Wednesday, 19 November 2008

Riding A Christmas Tree

The day dawns dry, which is good news for those of us with botched brakes. My dodgy brakes turned out to be the least of my problems, the wind was just so horrible this morning and it was like pedalling in treacle. It felt like it took about two hours to get to work although I turned out to be only slightly slower than usual.

On my virtual road to John O'Groats, I should be in Perth by tonight. Next week I'll start my assault on the Cairngorms. With the weather forecast the way it is, I could even stop off for a virtual ski at Aviemore.

Every day appears to be designated as a day to champion something and today is no exception. I get an email advertising World Toilet Day, which isn't quite as ghastly as it sounds. It is a day to raise awareness of the global lack of such facilities. It's not about your local council trying to close all their public conveniences either (hello Derby City Council) but about the fact that 2.5 billion people have nowhere to go.

Son number two, that's the hard working, clean shaven, early to bed literature student not Son number one, the long haired, up all night playing computer games, failed science student, wants to try contact lens. I wonder who she is?

After work I cycle to the pool and momentarily get stuck behind and blinded by a chap with that many flashing red lights on the back of his bike, I counted six, that at first I think he's riding a Christmas tree. I'm sure the traffic will see him but I also think he's increasing the chances of someone deliberately running him over.

L's due at the leisure centre too for yoga, though I don't see her. Not sure, what flavour of yoga this is. Hatha, Vinyasa, Supramental, Restorative, Power, Hot or Gentle... I kid you not. I have no real desire to learn yoga but the names are good. In fact, it doesn't sound like yoga at all. Daughter even brought home details of something called 'Sun Salutation', which sounds like a cocktail to me but I think it was yoga. L threatened to have me practicing it wearing my lycra but she hasn't got me drunk enough yet.

I may be doing everything in my lycra cycling trousers soon because I'm having problems with the zips on them, they keep getting stuck. So soon I might not be able to get out of them at all. This may please L. Although she keeps saying she likes to see guys with the zips on their ankles upzipped, girls eh?, I'm not sure what effect this has on her, it might be worth an experiment though and could be a good way of passing the time one evening. In these days of the credit crunch, you have to make your own entertainment.

I get back from my swim, manage to extract myself from my cycling trousers and take the boys training.

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