Dug Up And Resuscitated

Not at work, so it's a bit like a Saturday and we get up really late. Around 11.30! Then onto the park with the dogs who are both getting far too presumptuous that this is going to happen every time I'm off.

Today is of course New Years Eve and L's been out shopping for new trendier clothes. She says she's having a new image for 2009 and this one is going to wear more girlie skirts. Sounds great, I can hardly wait. In fact I don't have to because she has a blindingly good new grungy yellow and black dress which she wears tonight.

We head out early for a few drinks and L's brother comes over to join us. This tempts Daughter out, which is great, it's good to get a bit of a 'crowd' together, well four of us, although this keeps us out of the grown up bars.

I spend the night or should that be the 'early evening' on the St. Austell Tribute which isn't the best but it's a good sociable 'early evening'. Then its home for more beer, take away curry and Jools' Hootananny or whatever it's called. Pre-recorded of course, why they persist with this, don't know. I reckon the guests would still come if was live but Jools himself would perhaps prefer to be elsewhere.

It's rather dull this year, there's no Kylie to slobber over, only Duffy and even Jools doesn't appear to relish that prospect. His star guests are Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, who have been dug up and resuscitated especially. Even we can't stick it through to the end. The Ting Tings (surprisingly) and The Hold Steady were both good but underused and we gave up waiting for them to perform again.

New Year comes and goes; Son stays in his room throughout, probably denying it's all happening, probably not a bad idea.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Favourite Films Of 2008

Second part of my review of the year, my favourite ten films of the year.

10. Juno



I will probably get stick for including this but it had its moments. Lightweight but still entertaining.

Read My Review

9. Somers Town



A pleasant thought provoking tale from Shane Meadows. Not one of his best but still very watchable.

Read My Review

8. Persepolis



Always interesting and often darkly humorous. A cracking 'cartoon'.

Read My Review

7. Son Of Rambow



In here for the insinuation that you can light a cigarette by connecting yourself to the mains electricity but for other reasons too. 'Skill on toast' as they said in them days.

Read My Review

6. Elegy



Old man pulls young student and photographs her chest. So a cracking plot... and there's more to it than that.

Read My Review

5. Burn After Reading



OMG, a Coen's film not at number one. Not their best but the Coen's are still coming up with something different.

Read My Review

4. In Search Of A Midnight Kiss



A cheap fun film with lots of rough edges. Just like life should be.

Read My Review

3. Baader Meinhoff Komplex



A fast and furious detailed history of the Red Army Fraction, squeezing 10 years into two and a half hours and doing it well.

Read My Review

2. Lust Caution



On the 6th January last year we though we'd seen number one already. Almost but not quite. I held my breath all the way through this excellent film.

Read My Review

1. No Country For Old Men



A botched plot and a botched ending but still gripping. What do you expect, it's the Coen's, it's got to be number one.

Read My Review

Wimps Or Three Wise Men?

My second and last day at work this week and I'm on the bus, I daren't risk running or cycling, it would take me a week to stop coughing afterwards.

It is announced that Droylsden have been thrown out of the FA Cup for fielding an ineligible player in their second-round replay win over Chesterfield. Sean Newton who scored both goals in their 2-1 win should have been serving a one-match ban. This is actually quite amusing and brings a bizarre conclusion to a match that was first abandoned due to fog, then the rearranged game was drawn and then the replay at Droylsden was abandoned because of floodlight failure with Chesterfield 2-0 up. Droylsden won at the fourth attempt. So perhaps justice has been done in the end, it was hardly Chesterfield's fault the lights failed.

After work, I walk in to Derby, where I meet the rest of the family who are planning on ice-skating with a group of friends of ours. Turns out the men, and L's brother, elect not to skate, wimps or three wise men, you choose. Although L's brother does eventually crack under pressure and have a brief go.

There's some great footage of Daughter getting irate at being filmed, which should be on youtube any day now, I'll keep you posted.

On reflection, it might have been warmer to have skated because it's absolutely freezing watching, all my extremities are frozen to such an extent that possibly only one thing can thaw them out. We head home in search of the cure. Mulled wine followed by real wine eventually does the trick and thaws them out.

Favourite Albums Of 2008

The first part of my review of 2008. These are my favourite ten albums of the last twelve months.

10. The Seldom Seen Kid - Elbow



I don't proclaim to be a great fan and it's not an album I listen to a huge amount but live the quality of this band and this record really come through.

9. Third - Portishead



Eleven years on from their second album, Portishead finally followed it up. I've always been a fan and this is great album, nothing will be as good as their debut 'Dummy' but this is a fair effort.

8. The '59 Sound - Gaslight Anthem



I've been listening to downloads of this for the last four months or so, now I've been given the album for Christmas so need to prosecute me. It's been pointed out to me how Springsteen like it is. Gosh, does this mean I'm officially old.

7. Silent Cry - Feeder



Nobody seemed to like this album, least of all the band themselves but I love it, a return to form.

6. St Jude - Courteeners



Great lyrics and wonderful guitars, a cracking debut album. If only Liam Fray didn't want to be Oasis quite so much.

5. Glasvegas - Glasvegas



The Glasvegas album was a let down when it came out because like the Arctic Monkeys a few years, everyone had the free downloads and the four singles already on their ipods. Still excellent though, just at least twelve months too late. Had this come out in 2007, it would perhaps have been my number one.

4. Hold on Now, Youngster - Los Campesinos



Los Campesinos aren't my usual sort of band, but this record by the seven-piece from Cardiff literally jumps out at you, punches you in the face and demands to be sung along to, so you oblige.

3. Do You Like Rock Music? - British Sea Power



British Sea Power are an odd bunch, if they weren't such an odd bunch they'd have been huge by now. This is their most normal record yet and possibly their best but they're still odd and consequently still relatively unknown.

2. Oracular Spectacular - MGMT



A mix of electronics and guitars produces something quite different. To top it all they managed to reproduce the sound live as well and without too much trickery.

1. Only By The Night - Kings Of Leon



Well they've done it again. Two years in a row as my number one but it's just such a good album.

Out On To The Battlefield

Being ill has totally ruined my training schedule, I should have been on the bike today but instead, I'm (whisper it) in the car. It also means I'm obviously not as fit and healthy as I thought I was. I'd also hoped to fit a swim or two in somewhere this week but no such luck. If everyone is as ill as I am, as appears to be the case, then the council will be shutting all the leisure centres again next year claiming no one used them this year. We've all been too ill.

It's cold at work with the heating having been off for four days, so I'm sure they're all thankful for me coming in and warming the place up with the high temperature I have. Mine you, everyone else seems to be the same

After Derby's defeat yesterday Paul Jewell resigned. Which is odd, I didn't have him down as a quitter. No idea how they're going to find anyone better qualified to take over. If someone with the record of Jewell can't hack it then who can.

I reckon our Chairman Adam Pearson fancies the job himself. I expect him to keep the current assistant Chris Hutchings on in the driver seat until the end of the season with Pearson in the backseat.

Predictably, there's no sandwich vans serving Pride Park today, despite the fact there are a surprisingly high number of offices occupied near us. The sandwich shops obviously can't be feeling the crunch then or they'd be out mopping up what business there was.

I look in our fridge to see what I have in stock for lunch, not much, a few yoghurts that are well out of date but one of those will do for starters. I learnt as an impoverished student never to let anything go to waste and certainly not to let something as trivial as a sell by date get in the way. After all what have you go to lose, if you eat it and it makes you ill, you'll probably be off food for a couple of days, saving even more money. It's a win-win situation.

All the same, I still venture out on to the battlefield that is Sainsbury's. The one bright point of being in the car this morning, was that there's was no traffic on the roads. The reason for this of course is that they're all in Sainsbury's car park and probably have been, since Christmas Eve trying to get out. Yet again there's hardly anyone actually in the store.

In the evening, we go to Broadway to check out 'Inkheart'. They have a beer called Rudolph's Ruin by Springhead, but at 4.2% it's hardly very ruinous. Daughter doesn't seem to like her posh organic cola, which is just fine and means I can steal it, to take into the cinema to oil my throat. Don't you just hate it when there's someone coughing during the film, spoiling everyone's enjoyment.

Well here's my review of 'Inkheart'. Hmmmm. Says it all really. Oh go on then I'll elaborate. It's the second film this week that I've seen that's had an excellent idea but badly executed (re: Hancock).

Mo Folchart (Brendan Fraser) has the gift of a 'silver tongue', which means not that he can charm the pants off the ladies but that he has the skill to make characters in books come alive as he reads the story.



Nine years ago, he carelessly lost his wife Resa (Sienna Guillory), presumably short for Theresa, this way as he was reading to his daughter Meggie (Eliza Hope Bennett) from the book 'Inkheart'. His 'gift' also causes real people to disappear into the book, whilst leaving the characters from 'Inkheart' roaming the real world, which they kind of grow to like.

Mo claims he's searched long and hard for another copy of this rare book, nine years or so, whilst travelling all over the world in the guise of a 'Book Doctor'. Hmmm, sounds like he's been living it up a bit to me. He's probably privately, been reading Princess Leia out of Star Wars whilst catching up with Catwoman every other Sunday. Well you would wouldn't you.

I mean surely he's heard of 'Google' or 'ebay' or could he not just have reached for a Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and got Holmes and Watson in on the case? Oh I should have been a script writer.



When he finally finds the book in the Italian Alps, one of its characters Dustfinger (Paul Bettany) stops him in the street to try to persuade Mo to read him back into the book, he, for one, wants to go home. Meanwhile the evil gang lord from the book, Capricorn (Andy Serkis), has no wish to return and pursues Mo.

They all end up locked away in Capricorn's castle where Capricorn wants Mo to read money and other riches out of books for him. He's been employing a less skilled 'silver tongue' which means they have amassed quite a zoo of imperfectly read-out characters. The story mentions loads of great books along the way but regrettably doesn't develop this part of the story.

All this time, Mo has kept his powers secret from his daughter but whilst they are locked up with the crocodile from Peter Pan ticking away next door, he goes for an explanation. Now I know its an odd request to demand realism in a fantasy movie but if your Father told you such a weird secret, that he read some weirdoes out of a book in exchange for your Mother, how would you react? Wouldn't you instantly think, oh that explains everything... or think perhaps he was joking, mad, drunk or perhaps all three? Then to top it all, it turns out that Meggie has the same gift as her father but she just hasn't noticed...



It comes down to Dustfinger to rescue them with the help of a lad called Farid who fell out of 'Arabian Nights' or was it 'Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves' and they all search out the author of the book (Jim Broadbent) for another copy and end up with the manuscript.



At the finish, with them all recaptured, Capricorn forces Meggie to read something awful called the 'Shadow' out of the book whilst the author is hurriedly trying to rewrite the ending. For God's sake somebody write and read anything, nobody said it had to be a good book. In the end it's down to Toto the dog from the Wizard Of Oz to deliver the new page to the Meggie, without eating it, MD couldn't have managed that, and listen girl. When you're reading the new ending and it's clearly working, helping to get rid of the bad guys, rescue your friends and your family, what is the last thing you should do... durrr stop reading. Silly girl.

It's an alright film but it gets progressively messier as it goes on. It's a shame, there are some good special effects, the baddies are superb and there's some decent acting, although I thought Mo was played by a rubber dummy but the others disagreed, assured me it was human and that he did ok. It also boasts the acting skills of Jim Broadbent and Helen Mirren but both their parts are mainly irrelevant to the story.

The film is based on the first book of a trilogy and probably leaves itself open 'to be continued'. The last film to attempt to start a franchise like that was, oh yes, 'The Golden Compass'. At least its better than that.

Suddenly at the end, out of nowhere, there's some love interest between Farid and Meggie. Which just highlights the lack of character development there's been throughout the film. There wasn't any chemistry between any of the other cast, not even Mo with his Daughter and certainly not with his wife. Whom they find and eventually free. She's spent the last nine years in what appears to be near slavery and has also gone mute, so perhaps that's why they're so estranged. Bet you wish you hadn't spent so much time with Princess Leia now eh Mo?

Preventative Measures

My physical condition is deteriorating, so L is very courageous indeed to brave the germs and administer TLC, even if she does refuse to look in my direction in case she catches something.

The dogs take advantage of my weakened state on the park. Doggo just seems to know that I can't shout very loudly at him and takes absolute liberties. MD then abandoned our ball game to go play chase with a Weimaraner. So not a good park session.

Another long-standing Christmas tradition is that Derby County lose all their Christmas games, so far it's two out of two.

L makes me a 'hot toddy' and has one herself too, preventative measures I believe it's called. I retire to bed early with the dogs and Chris Hoy. I got his book for Christmas, I'm already half way through it, and I'm crap at reading, so it must be good or it could just be the fact it has a big primary school typeface and pictures in it.

Idle Threats And Mamma Mia DVD's

After taking part in the Aston Christmas Walk we head over to my brother's to exchange presents. Then its home to be reunited with the kids and to cook our leg of lamb for L's parents who are coming over this evening.

In the afternoon, I watch 'Hancock' with Daughter. The idea of the film is quite ingenious because Hancock (Will Smith) is a drunken bum of a superhero who causes more damage than he prevents and consequently he is roundly hated by the general public.

The film started off very promisingly but as soon as Hancock started to get a PR make over, by Jason Bateman, whose life Hancock saved, it started to lose track of the original great idea. I thought it was going to pick up again and possibly get quite edgy when Charlize Theron looked as though she was going to try to bed a superhero but it turns out she's a superhero too. Doh, don't you just hate it when that happens.



Generally a fun film but not the best use of a great idea. This is rare case that when the remake is made, a few years from now, it's going to be a better film.

L's parents arrive and L's kitted out in those black stockings again, you can't beat the Christmas traditions.

There's been idle threats flying around for the last month or so of who's buying who the Mamma Mia DVD for Christmas and so everyone been on edge as a result. In the end, L is the only one who ends up with it. She seems thrilled, mainly because she can now try to inflict it on me. So far, I've been very proud to be one of that select group of people who haven’t seen it.

The lamb is excellent and there's not much left for the dogs but that's mainly because we let the other animals in the house, Son and Daughter, get their hands on the lamb bone first.

The Dreaded Cough

I've not been feeling my best for a few days and today the dreaded cough has arrived. However, I felt I could not deny Doggo his annual moment of fame and we head off to defend his title as top dog in the Boxing Day 5k on Darley Park.

There's quite a big crowd of entrants and supporters, obviously drawn by the fact that Doggo is going for three in a row and news must also have got out that MD is making his debut.

As ever, Doggo goes off too quick and drags me around the first half of the course, by which time he's knackered and I have to drag him around the rest of the way.

We come in 26th which is two places better than last year and this is despite the fact that I'm ill. Most importantly though Doggo is first canine home again, although we still don't get a trophy for it. MD comes in as 7th dog on his debut. Not bad for a first timer but I'm sure L was holding him back for his own good. He'd also do better if he spent a little less time playing to the crowd and trying to see off the other dogs.

My father manages to turn up before the start this year, he even missed the finish last year, and gets some good photos of the momentous occasion.

A few beers and then we head home. With the kids staying over at their father's and with both dogs stuck to the carpet by their own muddy undercarriages, we can have a relaxing warm down at home without fear of reprimand or interruption.

Later we have Sea Bass, which was a big success last year, and is equally good again, if it just wasn't for all those bones.

Yesterday's goose cuts up much more easily when it's cold which means there's load of leftovers for the dogs, which unsurprisingly they manage to wake up for.

As Is Tradition

It's Christmas Day and after getting the dogs nicely muddied up on the park, we head home to get the goose cooked, and also to make a start on disposing of the eggnog.

We are not one of the 10 million people in the UK who have turkey. I'm not sure where this turkey thing came from, the UK is on it's own in making this a Christmas tradition. In 1588, Elizabeth I enacted a law making it an offence to eat any bird other than Goose on Christmas day, I wouldn't want to disobey.

L also sticks to tradition with her dashing black stocking look; this should also be passed in law.

Her present to the dogs this year are a couple of pigs. Not real ones, toy ones although they sound very authentic. At first MD is terrified of both of them but it doesn't take long for him to overcome that fear and to get his teeth around their throats.

My parents arrive and we head off for another tradition, the lunchtime pint down the Plough, before returning for lunch. My Mum has been struck down with the lurgy that everyone seems to be getting at the moment but at least she's well enough for Christmas lunch.

The Goose, and we've never had problems before, turns out to be a bit of a tough old bird. Like someone had substituted grilled collie instead... Daughter? which would most certainly have been a bit tough and grizzled but no, a quick head count and we still have two of the brutes.

After my parents have gone, we revive another tradition, the Christmas Day run. It's obviously not a popular tradition because we don't see anyone else out pounding the streets. Although there were a few getting it in early this morning.

I try out my new Christmas present from L, an Ipod sensor that fits into your training shoe and tells you on your Ipod how far you've ran. It tells us rather generously we've done about 7km when we know it's nearer to 5km. It may be wrong but it's still a rather cool gadget and it'll hopefully be even cooler when I've got it calibrated and it starts giving out the correct information.

We get back home in time for the traditional Christmas message, from Wallace And Grommit.

Naughty Schoolboys

It's non-uniform day at work, where we are only open for the morning. We expect to be released at noon but they keep us in like naughty schoolboys until 12.30. At which point I get the bus to Beeston rather than home, where I meet L and the dogs for a late liquid lunch. L doesn't look too frazzled when she arrives having walked the two dogs across, I had been concerned that doing so might have an adverse effect on her alcohol consumption.

After sampling a few, fairly unspectacular Christmas ales, we wobble back home to get started on the cooking. I have my stuffing, pigs in blankets and the celebrated eggnog to make.

I still haven't managed to see any of the hoax signs that have supposedly been put up around Nottingham, telling people that it is legal to 'relieve' themselves in certain public places.



The official looking laminated signs which read "Public Urination Permitted After 7.30pm. In an attempt to reduce late night public nuisance, during the holiday period, Nottingham City Council has designated several public urination areas across the city. This urination area will be cleaned daily between the hours of 5am and 6am."

Nottingham City Council are now setting about removing them.

The advantage of having a blog (I knew there must be some advantage somewhere) is that you can look back and see what you did in the past. Apparently the last time we had the kids on Christmas Eve, we stayed in and got all romantic in the bedroom, without the kids, but with three bottles of Pelforth and John Malkovich as we watched 'Dangerous Liaisons'. If we're going to repeat the trick this year, all we've got in 'Lust Caution'...

As it happens we're knackered and slightly inebriated after lunchtime so it doesn't come to fruition, we also didn't have a disruptive puppy back then. It was also by no means certain we'd have him this Christmas Eve either, that is if Daughter had carried through any of her threats.

A Good Home

MD may have pushed Daughter a bit far this time; he's eaten £25 worth of tips from her paper round. Not completely his fault, someone left the stair-gate open again. I'm considering bolting that gate in place, that’ll solve the problem; everyone will just have to climb over it. Visitors can use the back door.

Daughter does a decent salvage job with sellotape and L takes them to the building society, who don't bat an eyelid despite the fact there were a few chunks missing. Daughter's not having a good week financially, yesterday someone palmed her off with a forged fiver, which the local Co-op then confiscated.

L is at work in the morning but then heads home to the 'angels'. She's getting in quite a lot of extra dog time at the moment. They are apparently both very sleepy. Well one of them would be; he's full of tenners as well as Thornton's toffee. I didn't mention the toffee did I...

I'm hoping this doesn't make my Christmas stocking but Burger King are marketing a fragrance called 'Flame', which they describe as 'the scent of seduction with a hint of flame-broiled meat'. Nice.

At lunchtime I venture in to Sainsbury's. They had three of those big bottles of Leffe Brune left, so I thought I best give a good home to all three. The shop itself wasn't too busy and if they had that many checkout staff on duty on a normal lunchtime then we’d all be happy with our lives. The car park though was horrendous; it took me a good twenty minutes to escape.

Later we play our rearranged game of squash. My opponent warns me that it could be a very slow and short game because he's not completely recovered from the flu. He reckons he's been eating like a hungry horse, has done no exercise of any sort and not had a drink for eight days. Sounds like ideal preparation to me; well rested, on the wagon and carbo loaded.

He's not kidding about the slow game. We're tied at 1-1 and he's taking huge breaks for a drink and practically having a lie down between points in game three. I guess the last thing he wanted was a game that went to 16-14 but he still won it. The match ends up 3-1. So I can't even beat him when he's stricken with flu.

Back home, L and I hit the Christmas wines and demolish a bottle of white.

Something Of An Achievement

A bit unusual for a Monday but with no dog training to get home for, I cycle into work. Don't know what's up with the weather; it was positively warm today. A joy to be on the bike because there were a lot less cars on the road trying to knock me off. The only hold up was when I came across a van, nicely parked on its side just outside Asda.

It's in the news about an elderly woman who got stuck up to her knees in mud whilst out walking her dogs along the banks of the River Severn near Tewkesbury and it was the next day before someone found her and called for help. She was very lucky the weather wasn't as cold as it was last week. I suggest she gets herself a couple of collies because her dogs obviously didn't pull like ours do. Doggo and MD would have soon pulled her free.

I bike home, then take L and the dogs for a run around the university. Then back home to make my usual Christmas stilton and port pate. We have a lot of guests due this Christmas, so I quadruple the quantities. I even keep off the port whilst I'm making it, which is something of an achievement. It's an AF evening, the last for a while me thinks.

A Bit Of Bing

L and I get up early and with help/hindrance from the dogs, do Son's paper round, although I am not offered any Christmas tips by any of the customers, not even a mince pie. Job done its back to bed with a coffee, the Sunday papers and the papergirl herself. Now that's what I call service. Well worth a tip.

A few hours later, I'm on the park with the dogs again whilst L's out running, her second run in two days. Seriously putting me to shame.

Apparently, I always take L to see something mushy at Christmas. This year she seems to have got about three lined up for me. First, an old 'classic' in err... 'White Christmas', which they are showing at Broadway and oddly, it's packed. In front of us are a group of girls who have sneaked bottles of wine, real glassware (plastic only allowed!) and plenty of mince pies etc past the attendants.

Perhaps being drunk is the best tactic but the half a pint of 7% Brew Dog's 'Not Just For Christmas' isn't quite working as we settle down to a bit of Bing.

I can't really slate 'White Christmas' now can I, in fact if modern rom-com's were like this the world would probably be a better place but it's all just as implausible as the modern equivalent.

By 1954 when the film was made, the song 'White Christmas' was already a 'classic', so they made a film around it and Bing. Exactly the sort of thing they'd do these days.

Bob Wallace (Bing Crosby) is coerced into becoming a song-and-dance duo with Phil Davis (Danny Kaye) in repayment for Phil saving his life when they were in the army. They are successful as a duo and Phil tries to pair the workaholic Bob off with a fellow performer Betty (Rosemary Clooney) one of the Haynes sisters, so that he can get some time for his own philandering. Bing must have been 50 when he made this, whilst Clooney was in her mid-twenties. Nice work if you can get it.



They follow Betty and her sister Judy (Vera-Ellen) to their next show in Vermont.
The inn in Vermont, is practically empty because despite it being December its 68 degrees fahrenheit and there's no snow. It turns out the inn is owned by their former army commander, General Waverly.

So they bring their show up to the inn, to try to drum up some business for him. Then it gets all rom-com, Betty thinks they are just doing it for some free publicity and goes AWOL, whilst Judy and Phil think that if they stage a phoney engagement it will encourage Betty to go for Bob. It doesn't.



In the end Bob gets all the troops from his division to surprise the general on Christmas Eve, this is the best bit of the movie. Betty realises Bob is her 'knight on a white horse' after all and they all live happily every after.

A fun and enjoyable film, despite some awful songs. Such as the cringe worthy 'Snow' sung in the dining car of the train to Vermont and another called 'Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep', which I shall teach to MD.

Back home, L does Wassail, which is hot beer with port and spices. A bit like mulled wine but with beer. Nice but heavy.

Off The Leash

Typical Saturday really, most of the morning in bed, then on the park with the 'boys' and then the football in the afternoon. I suppose the only untypical bit was that Derby won and actually played well enough to deserve the win.

The kids are both off to a party with their father, so we're totally off the leash tonight. L says we can paint the town red if we want. Which implies she thinks we don't usually paint the town red? I suppose it is more of an orange colour these days and having two collies in tow does somewhat cramp our style.

Talking of the 'boys', we feel we ought to take them with us tonight; they missed out on their usual Friday pub night because we were out living it up in the company of the Quo and they have been abandoned all afternoon. So, a walk to the Victoria it is.

When we get back later, we cook up a late night prawn curry, which we share with Daughter who has been dropped back home to do her papers. Son though stays at his father's, which means we're standing in for him on the paper round and will hopefully get lots of Christmas tips.

The Mighty Quo

I take the bus and run in. The ground is a bit slippery in patches but not too bad really. My legs are tired though this morning, don't know why.

L's off work today and claims to have been out on a pleasant walk. Pleasant? I assume she must have left the dogs at home then.

Watch out for the new blockbuster called 'Nottingham', although it's now not due out until 2010. Ridley Scott is making it and the subject is something that really hasn't been done before... Robin Hood. Yawn. The star who's going to play the lead... Russell Crowe. Yawn.

Tonight is my company's Christmas meal, although I won't be there because tonight we have the (dubious) honour of accompanying L’s Dad to see his favourite band... cue fanfare... ta da... Status Quo! I hang my head in shame. Although L reckons I could still be at the meal for dessert because Status Quo and their fans are now getting on a bit and will all be tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle and cocoa by 9pm. To be honest though, I don't really enjoy the Christmas meals and actually, whisper it quietly, I'm quite looking forward to the Quo, in a sadistic sort of way.

L can't decide what to wear. I would have thought that was obvious. White t-shirt, ripped jeans and a leather jacket naturally.

When we get there, I'm a little surprised at the size of the crowd. I thought Quo were perhaps the biggest thing to hit the Arena since the Dalai Lama sold out five nights there in May... but I reckon there was only about 2500-3000 there, whereas a full arena is around 8000. The whole thing could have probably been staged at the Concert Hall, which would have been more appropriate because the average age of a Quo fans seems to be about 55 and a lot of them struggled to climb the steep steps of the Arena seating.

Now I've mentioned the venue, let's get the Arena bashing out of the way. I don't know whose job it is to set the place up for bands but they're not very good at it. Tonight's setup was rubbish. The crowd were shoehorned into one-half of the stadium and the band were shoved down the other end. They had brought the stage forward a bit but not much. We were a lot further away from the band than was necessary, the stage could have been moved a lot nearer.

It was also all-seater, which would have been ok if people had wanted to sit but everyone down on the floor area clearly wanted to stand and dance. They didn't even put many seats down there; there were big areas of unused floor.

The arena staff got seriously caught out because loads of people went to the front to stand straight after the support finished and they weren't ready for them. Eventually they got themselves organised and prevented anyone else going down there but why, when at a normal gig they allow more people than that to stand.

Support was by Manfred Mann's Earth Band with Mr Mann himself on keyboards. Well I'm afraid I just found them desperately boring. I'm not terribly up on much of their material but obviously, I knew 'Blinded By the Light' which was ok and the 'Mighty Quinn' which they finished with and murdered. It was all very 70's and as is the tradition of that period the band were determined never to let a good tune get in the way of an overlong guitar solo.



One thing I have to say about the Arena tonight is that the sound was good. I think I've finally worked out how they sound check the gigs, it's all set up for the chap in Block 10 Row N Seat 20, that's me by the way. So excellent sound, just a shame I'm straining my ageing eyesight to see the band.

So to the mighty Quo. Rumours that they are being kept alive on life support are premature. As for their audience well, even they seem to have some life left in them and are soon air guitar-ing in the aisles and for the less mobile, tapping their walking sticks, as the band open with 'Caroline'. Rumour also had it that they're accepting bus passes as valid ID at the bar, where they're also selling cocoa and biscuits, alongside the sherry.

Quo are much maligned as just a three chord band, as characterised by themselves in last year's 'In Search Of The Fourth Chord' album from which the single 'Beginning Of The End' is given an airing. I can honestly say that there's more to them than the head down rock everyone knows. E.g. 'The Wanderer', 'Roll Over Lay Down', 'Down Down' etc etc, which are all present and correct tonight, at times accompanied by the sight of all four guitarists side by side, strumming away in the familiar Quo pose.

In fact, I'm actually impressed and surprised by their diversity. From the psychedelic sound of 'Pictures Of Matchstick Men' from 1968 from which this 'Pictures' tour, to celebrate 40 years of the Quo, takes it's name, to some more recent stuff, a couple of tracks 'The Oriental', which is a bit dubious, and 'Creeping Up On You', which isn't half bad, from 2002's 'Heavy Traffic' album.

There are also plenty of oldies, that is in the set list, as well as in the crowd, some which I certainly don't remember, but I was still in nappies when some of them came out. All the way through clips of videos and old footage appropriate to each song is displayed on the screens behind them.



For me the highlights tend to be when Rick Parfitt is at the mic, such as for the excellent 'Rain', for me he upstaged Francis Rossi every time he took the lead. Parfitt's singing was outstanding, particularly considering he had growths removed from his throat only two years ago.

There are a few irritations, like when they disappear off into a medley. I hate medleys. If you're going to play a song, play it in full or don't bother. If you want to fit in more songs then cut out irritation number two, the pointless drum solo.



They close pretty much as expected with a string of their hits from the 70's, culminating with 'Whatever You Want' and of course 'Rocking All Over The World'.

The encore is a bit odd. 'Burning Bridges' is rocky but not the best, a brief bit of 'Rock n Roll Music' and then finally 'Bye Bye Johnny'. Then the band troop off stage as the new Christmas single is played through the sound system and on the video screen. This falls totally flat and is cut off half way through to the accompaniment of boos from the disappointed crowd.

Quite why they couldn't bring themselves to perform, and therefore promote, their first ever Christmas single I suppose only they know. It was all a bit of a damp squid ending to what otherwise was a pretty impressive and dare I say, credible, performance.

I suppose now that I've been to seen the Quo, it must officially be Christmas.

End Of An Era

There's a bit of a commotion this morning as Doggo tries to see off one of Daughter's friends and in the process nips L. So, that's nought out of two dogs now getting presents in our house this Christmas.

I'm in the car today as its pub day and it turns out to be the end of an era. The chef and her husband, who have served us well for 8 years or so, retire on Sunday. They will be well and truly missed. It was appropriate that the legendary cottage pie was on the menu and was a good as ever. A fitting way to go out. What comes next for food at the Flowerpot I'm not sure, they are an impossible act to follow.

To wash it down the pub had no less than twelve Christmas ales on. I sample the Christmas pud ale, which even tastes a bit like the real thing. Very nice.

I finally get around to writing my Christmas cards, all seven of them. Most of the people I know have given up the ritual and I'm certainly not complaining. That's my meagre contribution to the 1.8 billion that are sent in the UK each year, and which causes 200,000 trees to be felled.

Squash is off. My opponent has been in bed all week with some sort of flu and reckons he could barely lift a squash racquet, let alone hit the ball... or an eye socket. He charitably decides not to play because it would be too embarrassing for me when he beat me in that state. Hmmm. It's a no win situation, if I did win he'd claim he was ill. We've rebooked for Tuesday, the leisure centre think they're open but they're not sure...

As it's the end of the week, for L, we take the boys down the Plough, where there's yet another new landlord and it's also free chilli night. Not to be sneezed at. It's also quiz night, which we usually avoid but we get talked into this one. L seems oddly competitive, even more so when we come second with 25 points out of 40. The winner got 27. Now if only the Titanic was built in Newcastle and we knew the lyrics to 'Windmills of your Mind'.

Retro

It's a bit icier today so I keep to the flatter route through Sandiacre, so I don't have any tricky downhills to do. The problem with that route though is the mountainous speed bumps that offer no grip in the wet, let alone in the ice. These are obviously designed and installed without a single thought to cyclists because they usually end up forcing you to cycle in the middle of the road.

I text L to let her know I'm alive which just prompts a questioning email to elaborate in case that means I've fallen off, broken something but obviously lived to tell the tale.

In fact, it was a rather uneventful ride, not half as interesting as my virtual cycle along the A9 coast road. According to the map, as I close in on John O'Groats, I need to take a short ferry ride across from Cromarty to Nigg but it turns out that the ferry is closed for the winter. Well, I could swim across, I suppose. Luckily, I've done the odd triathlon, or I could back track to get the bridge over at Shoreton which means an extra 40km. L would insist I stay on the road I suppose, which means I now have 123km to go and not 83km.

My colleague at work turns up on a rather well looked after 1970’s Raleigh Record Special Edition, which could be a collector's item, might even be worth a few bob. I'll have to dust down my old Raleigh Arena and challenge him to a retro race. Retro is very in at the moment, they've even brought back pickled onion Monster Munch. Which were disgusting the first time around, but there you go.

After work, I cycle to the pool and I'm rather perturbed when the chap in front of me gets a Christmas card from the leisure centre. Favouritism or what.

As I head home, I get a text 'Out with bloody dogs. Dinner in the oven'. Ah, seems MD is being a pain again. Seven out of ten dogs receive Christmas presents from Santa but in our house, it might be 1 out of 2. I get home and jog up to meet them.

When I catch up with L and complain to her about the chap getting a card from the leisure centre, I find out that they've given L one too. Seems I'm Billy no mates yet again.

I've ordered a new modem, to try to cure our limping internet and immediately the computer perks up and seems fine. How does it know?

MSG

I arrive at work all in one piece, no problems with ice on the roads today and it's an incident free ride in.

The Kennel Club have confirmed that they and the BBC cannot come to agreement after their spat over the BBC's documentary earlier this year and consequently they'll be no TV coverage of the 2009 event. Typical. The one year I qualify with Doggo and we get a TV blackout. Just terrific. So no need to set the video then for our moment of fame. My mum will get gutted.

So far I've managed to do all my Christmas shopping without stepping foot inside a shop. The consequence is that I have a huge pile of parcels by my desk at work including a case of Christmas wine for home consumption. All I need now is to bring the car into work to transport them home, I certainly won’t be bringing that lot back on my bike.

L heads off into Derby to meet some friends, they going to one of those 'all you eat' Chinese places. So she'll be as high as a kite from all that Monosodium glutamate when she gets home. Which, you never know, could work to my advantage.

I had planned to run with the boys tonight but MD is asleep in his bed from almost the moment I get in the door. Lancing the myth, put about by L and Daughter, that he's a livewire every night or perhaps he's still to get his gigantic Lakeland walk out of his system. Doggo is also keeping a low profile because it's raining, only ever so lightly, but he's taking no chances.

Instead, I drag them out for a walk to meet L off the bus. Even in the rain, we are knights in shining armour and fur. She's not that high on the MSG but high enough.

The Taste Police

Still off work today and a man comes round to fix our boiler, which keeps losing pressure and switching itself off. This means we never wake up to, or come home to, a warm house. He's only here a few minutes and claims to have fixed it. I don't believe him naturally but time will tell.

The first thing I notice is that the pressure keeps rising rather than falling. This is slightly worrying. I take the dogs on the park, at least I won't be around if the whole thing goes bang.

I get back from the park, with two 'edge free' dogs, to find the house is still standing, good news so far, and the heating is still on, even better news. The dogs snuggle up by the radiators and promptly fall asleep. So they should be nicely recharged by the time L gets home.

Our internet is still limping but possibly limping a bit quicker, a bit like me. I manage to read about a woman in South Shields who has been told to remove her Christmas lights and 4ft Santa Claus by a housing association worker, in case they offended her non-Christian neighbours. Hmmm, is she sure it was a housing association worker and not just the taste police.

Trying To Look Fit And Professional

No walk today because the planned entertainment is worse, it's called the Langdale 10k. It doesn't start until noon, so it's a leisurely start. Time to sleep off last night's four pints and a mulled wine but surprisingly the old head is clear.

The start is on the road, which is very narrow, so it's essential to try and get near the front or else I'll get bunched in. I try and find someone fast to stand behind, they all look fast, so I settle for the one with the ponytail... Then we're off and that's the last I see of her.

The cottage we're staying in is at both the 3km and 7km points, so I have to try to look fit and professional twice, which could be tricky but I think I pull it off.

When I pass our supporters at the cottage for the second time, I'm just behind a chap who's running in long trousers and the need to put on a good show encourages me to sprint up the hill past our cottage. I go past the guy there and he never gets back on terms with me. So having a fan club there certainly helped.

I had predicted to our friends that I would do between 41:30 and 42:00. I wasn't expecting a good time, what with my bruised hip from the cycling incident and the beer last night. So, it's somewhat of a surprise to be approaching the line and looking set to break 41:00. I contemplate jogging on the spot to kill time but with quite a crowd gathered outside the Stickle Barn this could make me look rather stupid, particularly if someone dressed as Santa jogged past me. So instead, I finish in 40:45. Not bad at all in the circumstances. I am then handed a cheap Tesco's Christmas pud which is a bit disappointing when the shop down the road are selling Lakeland ones. I'd pay extra on the entry fee for one of those.

I jog off to get the dogs and we all cheer L across the line before we nip into the pub to celebrate with half a pint of Old Peculiar each. We may have missed out on it last night but they still sell it at this pub.

Then we head home to a well-earned late breakfast, it's now 2pm.

That about wraps up the weekend away and we head home, dodging the M6 because it was allegedly at a standstill, and then later, dodging the M1 for the same reason.

We arrive home to discover that Britain's Olympic cycling team have continued their domination over... well everybody, by taking a clean sweep of the BBC Sports 'Personality' awards:- Team of the Year, Coach of the Year (Dave Brailsford) and well done Chris Hoy, who won the main award.



L was convinced that 'that Adlington woman' would win it. She’s certainly been putting in the PR effort; she’s been popping up absolutely everywhere. Jo Jackson, who got the bronze medal, has been sadly forgotten about but she's probably been slogging it in the pool ever since and will win everything next time around because Ms Adlington is so unfit.

Smugger Than They

From the bedroom we can hear the sizzle of the pan, the ping of the microwave and the deafening din of the smoke alarm... it all sounds very productive downstairs as our friends cook breakfast, as they are always kind enough to do when we come away. We also know there's no rush to get out of bed because their breakfasts do take a little time in the preparation but hey, we're on holiday and their breakfasts, it has to be said, are always hearty and well worth waiting for.

I also have to be careful what I say as L's has broken the veil of secrecy around this blog, as regards my friends that is, and they are now 'in the know' and could be reading this, gulp.

In the afternoon, we partake in a four hour navigation of the valley floor. This is by far the furthest MD has ever walked and he loves it. He also loves the sheep he meets for the first time, we have to pull him away with cries of 'leave it'. Doggo stands around looking bored as we reprimand MD, as if we never had this problem with him. Mid walk we sit outside a pub and have a warming mulled wine. Doggo looks well miffed that he hasn't got a nice warm floor and a roaring fire to warm his paws on, just a damp courtyard full of puddles. I promise him such a scenario later.

We have arranged to meet our friends at the Old Dungeon Ghyll for a 5pm Old Peculiar. They are there waiting for us, sipping hot chocolate, warm, dry, smug etc etc as we walk in a tad damp but feeling smugger than they. The dogs soon have a good shake, sharing their dampness with them and throughout the pub.

I go to the bar and return to let L know that there's bad news and good news. The bad news is that for the first time in over ten years of coming here there's no Old Peculiar, the good news is there's Snecklifter instead and it's so gorgeous. We have two pints each, despite the fact that this is only 5pm and we have a race tomorrow. L's theory is, drink early and leave more time to sober up... I like the first part of that theory.

We walk the two miles home whilst our friends race home in their car, they're not total miserable b******* for not giving us a lift, I fully understand that there's not enough room for us and two very wet dogs. In any case, we need the walk to work off the Snecklifter.

They compensate by having a roaring fire going when we get back, the missing parts of the fire lighting jigsaw sourced from the local shop, which means I now have problems getting L out of the cottage and to the pub for some food.

Tonight's Goulash is much more of a meal than last nights children's chilli was. Although funnily enough when my mate has the chilli tonight it's of a much more reasonable size, which is just so typical.

The Liberation is on tonight, so after a few of those we all stagger home, full of food and beer.

Two Sticks To Rub Together

I had a few beers last night but nothing serious, so I don't really know why I have a headache this morning but it ruins most of my day off. Despite that I still manage a morning swim with L. So, what with surviving squash last night and now a swim this morning, things are looking a bit more promising for Sunday.

Later on, we head up to the Lakes for the weekend but we're a bit later setting off than we had planned. Daughter isn't with us. As is always the case, weeks of free weekends, then the moment we arrange something, something else crops up, in this case a reunion sort of thing with her junior school. She starting the weekend at L's parents and then finishing it at a friends house. In between, anything could happen.

On the M6, we get a phone call from the friends we are meeting up in Lakeland, apologising for their own lateness. We find they're only 7 miles behind us on the motorway which means they're sure to catch us up. Damn, they never beat us up there and my car can't go any faster. Then on the country lanes near Ambleside we have someone behind us flashing their lights, yep they've caught us but we held them off valiantly.

Due to the lateness of the evening and the fact we need food; we head straight to the pub, where an interesting dark ale by Thwaites, called Liberation is very off. A bad start followed by the fact that the meal I choose, a chilli, is positively child portion in size, well at least compared with everyone else's humongous meals. The beer we do end up with, is something called 'Newcastle', I didn't get the brewery and no it's not the brown ale. It's actually rather good and we come prepared with a take-out tub to take some back to our cottage. Which will be great, if only we could get the real fire lit. There's plenty of coal but no fire-lighters and not even two sticks of wood to rub together boy scout style. So, the electric fire it is then. Still a good night.

Unnecessary Ducking

I've been miles behind with this blog, partly due to being really busy at work and what makes that worse if that from lunchtime I'm off work until Tuesday, which means everyone wants things done before I go. I'm also behind because my internet connection at home seems to have gone part-time. So although I've had most of my incoherent rambles written I haven't been able to upload them. I hope I haven't disappointed my readers, both of them.

I'm still limping and therefore on the bus again today, although L compliments my walking, saying it looks much better this morning, even after I was jumped on by MD. MD usually inflicts injuries elsewhere, by landing with both front paws in delicate areas. The main thing is that L is no longer embarrassed to be seen with me. On Tuesday night she reckoned it was like walking with my dad, who's just had a hip operation.

I even managed a brief jog for the bus, so I could possibly be up for a walk around the squash court tonight. I need to do something. I have another 10k on Sunday.

I feel that in my weakened state that if I'm going to win anything in tonight's squash game I have to get in early. So I make sure I start well and win the first game, then it's all downhill from there but winning the first game is never a good idea as it just gets my opponent angry and then he wipes the floor with me. One thing is very noticeable tonight, there's a lot of unnecessary ducking going on. After the incident two weeks ago, neither of want to be on the receiving end of a repeat.

Teeth Breaking Territory

Thanks to my 'off' yesterday, this weeks training regime is totally stuffed and I hobble off to the bus instead. L's concerned but I'm sure it's just a bruise. After all I've had plenty similar in my football days and of course I'm a man, so I wouldn’t consult a doctor unless they laid the ambulance on especially. Men, or should I say most men, just shrug it off when they get injured and keep going. We wouldn't knock off work to snuggle up with the cat and spend the day with the Hugh Grant box set and a tub of Maltesers now would we.

By the time I get the bus home again, I think I've perfected my hobble pretty well.

In the evening, it's Doggo's 2nd Christmas party in three days, MD gatecrashes this one and thoroughly enjoys his disruptive self. We have races and 'fun' things, some of which aren't as bad as they sound and some that are worse. There's a big tub of Quality Street which is a disaster because, and I've never liked Quality Street partly because of this, they're nearly all hard centres and with the temperature hovering around zero we're seriously into teeth breaking territory.

Doggo wins a tug, which as soon as we get home, MD claims as his. Boys eh?

Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining

It's positively sub-zero this morning but none the less, I brave it and go into work on the bike. As expected the main roads were well salted and fine. Fine that is unless you want your gears full of salt; I make a mental note to do a full clean of the bike this week. The side roads though were a bit treacherous and I regretted taking one of my usual short cuts because it's got a bit of a steep downhill in it. They also don’t seem to do as much salting in Derby as they do in Nottingham, which I usually think is a good thing.... The road was so bad that I went onto the pavement because I though it looked better but oops, bad idea. My front wheel just disappeared. I’m going to have a nice bruise on my hip, so no moshing at the gig tonight.

I email L and tell her of my mishap and she promises to check out my bruising tonight. Every cloud has a silver lining as they say. As my Grandma would always say, it needs kissing better. She was a bit of a dark horse was my Grandma.

I vow to be more careful on the way home and that's not just my bruise talking.

Tonight we are at Rock City. The support band are four lads from Toronto known as the The Mark Inside. They make you 'stand up' and take notice because they play loud, some times heavy and the lead singer likes to shred his vocal chords Frank Black style. Underneath all their noise and energy are plenty of decent guitar riffs fighting to get out. I understand the band have been together for some time and released their debut back in 2005, their next record is available in the spring, it could be worth checking out.

The Hold Steady had to postpone their October UK tour due to guitarist Tad Kubler's illness. He's now recovered and tonight it's the third night of the rescheduled tour.

They begin with 'Constructive Summer', also the opening track of their latest album 'Stay Positive'. Summer? How quaint on such a cold Tuesday night in December but those of us who brave the elements are treated to an impressive set culled from their four albums. I checked out the set list from the previous nights to try to gauge what they might play but it seems they rip it up and changed around half the songs each night. So certainly, a band you could go to see every night without getting remotely bored.



Craig Finn, a most unlikely looking rock star if ever there was one, is bouncing around the stage from the first note. He's obviously intent on having a good and I'm sure he hopes the crowd do too but I don't reckon it would spoil his enjoyment if they didn't.

'Massive Nights' from the brilliant 'Girls And Boys In America' album rings out and the crowd gradually thaw out, well, it is cold. Rock City is probably only about half full tonight, which is a shame because the Hold Steady are pure entertainment and certainly under appreciated.



By the time 'The Swish' and 'Magazines' had been despatched the crowd were much more up for it. Particularly down the front, where they were singing Finn's lyrics back at him and attempting to get away with crowd surfing. When the band rock out like this they're really good but Finn is a storyteller at heart and tonight they leave out some of their rockier numbers which causes the set to get a little bogged down in the middle. There are a few too many Jackanory moments.

Not that this bothered the thirty or so anoraks (and I mean that in a nice way) down the front who knew all the words to all the songs, including some pretty obscure oldies. Finn, I think, was impressed, as well as delighted. Although occasionally he seems to forget the rest of us, singing some of his vocals off mike and straight at his select group down the front.

Kubler digs out a huge twin-necked twelve-string guitar for another slow one 'Lord I'm Discouraged' but then the set picks up pace again towards the end and it's a storming finish, 'Your Little Hoodrat Friend', 'Sequestered In Memphis', 'Chips Ahoy' and 'Slapped Actress' to finish.



Finn lost faith with music back when he was at his supposed peak but later rediscovered it, realising it was all just meant to be fun and formed the Hold Steady. This aspect comes across in bucket loads in the band performance, they are a band who clearly love what they do.

They return to play another jewel from 'Girls And Boys In America' with 'Stuck Between Stations' before 'Navy Sheets' and the 'First Night' closes the show.

Finn says he's not living the life he thought he would at his age, he's almost as much of an oldie as me, although he's not yet gone over 'that hill'. For that, he says, he is thankful. Something for us all to aspire to.

Her Word Is My Bond

Last night L proposed an early morning run and her word, as ever, is my bond, so I don't let her back out this morning. This is despite the fact she tries to tempt me back in to bed. I also had my doubts as to whether MD would be up for it but he is, in fact both dogs are.

The problem with a 6am run is it leaves me knackered for the trip into work. This morning I need the help of John Grisham to keep me awake in the car.

L's back at the pool and is now a kilometre on her way to somewhere, we know not where, yet.

Disaster on my lunchtime shopping trip, Sainsbury’s have run out of dark Leffe. Damn. The Riggwelter is on special offer though, so that'll have to do. Never mind, we're in the Lakes at the weekend where hopefully strong and dark will prevail.

We're both at our last Monday dog training sessions before Christmas and it would have been nice to finish off with an end of term pub trip but unfortunately our session is going to be an extra long one to compensate for the long Christmas break.

We contribute a present to Santa's sack and get a better one back in return. It would be nice to put it under the tree but with 'Jaws' around it's probably going to be a last minute thing putting that up. Instead I give it Doggo to open, something he's always been rubbish out. I was sure MD would help him out and be much better, but oddly he isn't.

At Least It Doesn't Have A Pudding As A Memento

L was very assertive and entered the Edwinstone 10k months ago. I felt I couldn't let her compete alone, so I sent off an entry too. At least it doesn't have a pudding as a memento, like the race the other week and the one next week.

The main thing to say about this morning is that it's very cold. Even at 10.30am, the race start time, the ground is still icy.

We have a minor disaster before we even start. We have both dogs with us but not a lead between them. It's not like us to forget such vital kit. I use the belt from my jeans to lasso MD, whilst Doggo runs free. Then MD slips his collar and runs free too, only it's not quite so easy to get him back under control. Eventually job done and that's my warm-up accomplished into the bargain.

Due to the near Arctic weather, I opt to compete in long trousers and immediately feel a wimp for doing so. Naturally, many people are still kitted out as if it's mid-summer, if you're in Barbados.



The race is described as a trail race but isn't quite as serious as that usually implies, the race is on trails through Sherwood Forest. They're actually quite easy to run on, the frozen ground helps, otherwise it may have been very soft underfoot.

A few kilometres in and it appears that the km markers are not correctly spaced because I start impressively fast, slow to almost a jog by the 2km mark and then accelerate back up to PB pace by the 4km mark, all without changing my stride....

By the time we get to 6km they seem to have settled down and I can see I'm heading for a 41 minute race, slow by road standards but I've no idea really what a good off road pace is for me.

I get in a good group with three other lads and we seem to work well together until a young lass comes and naturally, spoils it. She catches us up, runs with us for a while and then tries to push the pace. Naturally, we all try to go with her and are gradually burned off one by one. A sobering experience indeed and I wasn't last to go but nor was I first.

The first 2km were mostly downhill so I'm expecting an uphill stretch towards the end and I'm not disappointed. One of the other guys who got dropped catches me up just before the final climb and despite my best efforts sticks to me up the hill. I know he intends to go past me on the descent and if he wants it that bad he can have it, I'm in no mood for a sprint finish.



I'm not happy with my time, obviously, but position wise, it's much better than I expected and I come inside the top 30 out of over 330. L says she though I was taking it easy. Well I was, kind of. I can’t believe I did that well.

Then it's home for the customary hot bath and warm down. Later, rather than hit the pub we stay in and ward off the cold with an out-of-date, by two years, bottle of mulled wine, which is rather good. Well matured I suppose. Followed by some Leffe and French porter. As a real treat I cook up Corned Beef curry, a real credit crunch meal.

Somewhat Of A Relief

Daughter's off out this morning to a Kabbalat Torah service, I would elaborate if I could, and L is up and away to help her with her mammoth paper round, before I nor the dogs realise what’s happening.

We console ourselves with an amble on the park before heading off to part with loads of money food shopping and placing a Christmas order at our local farm shop.

Then misery as Derby lose yet again in the league. So it looks like we're concentrating on our fluky cup run instead. They made the draw this morning for the semis and I expected to get teed up for annihilation again by Burnley, they stuffed us a fortnight ago. So perhaps it's somewhat of a relief to get Manchester United... or perhaps not.

Tonight Clint Eastwood's 'Changeling', which is a true story that explores the dark side of 1920s Los Angeles.

Christine Collins (Angelina Jolie) is a single parent who works as a roller-skating supervisor for Pacific Telephone in what looks like the equivalent of a modern day 'call centre'. One weekend she is asked to work a Saturday shift and has to leave her young son Walter home alone. When she returns after work, she is greeted by an empty house. Walter is missing and when she contacts the police, they are extremely unhelpful.

She hears nothing for months but then, when all hope seemed lost, the police produce a child whom they claim is Walter but from the moment he steps off the train, Christine insists that he is most definitely not. The LAPD, who are portrayed throughout as being a corrupt gang of thugs who answer to no one, are desperate for some good publicity to restore their tarnished name. Their thinking is that returning a missing kid to his hard working, single mother would do the trick, no matter if it's the wrong child.



So, they tell her to smile for the press and take him home, telling her she's in shock and anyway young children can change so quickly. They dismiss the ton of evidence supporting her claim. Saying it would not be usual for a child to shrink three inches, acquire a completely different set of teeth to those in his dental records, forget his teacher and all classmates and even get himself circumcised in the months he was missing. Although didn't she have an old photograph of her son that could have helped clear all this up?



Christine continues to challenge the force and their particularly obnoxious chief J. J. Jones (Jeffrey Donovan), who is corruption personified. She is determined to uncover the truth and find her real son but the police continually deny any wrongdoing and try to discredit her as an unfit mother.

The only person willing to believe and help her is the Reverend Briegleb (John Malkovich), a man trying to expose the LAPD on his radio show.



When she tells all to the press, Jones invokes ‘Code 12’, a rule under which citizens can be committed to a mental asylum without a warrant. Scary. She is told she will stay there until she agrees to tow the line. The mental institution, like a lot of the film, does not make easy viewing.

Meanwhile, at a ranch outside the city, a good cop, Detective Ybarra (Michael Kelly) find a young Canadian boy who has chilling story to tell and so unfolds the tale of the Wineville Chicken Murders. The police trace and convict the perpetrator; serial kidnapper and killer, Gordon Northcott played to perfection by Jason Butler Harner. Slowly the details emerge of the grisly murders almost in the style of a horror movie as Detective Ybarra uncovers what really happened to Walter and many other boys.



The uncovering of the murders, helps Briegleb and a lawyer, who is working for free, to get Christine out of the asylum but unfortunately as a survivor of the abductions turns up and tells his story; there is no happy conclusion.

Overall, a good film, disturbing in some scenes and sometimes difficult to sit through, but still impressive. Jolie, who isn't really used to roles that test her, is convincing without being outstanding.

It's certainly not for the casual viewer who's after a bit of the usual Hollywood escapism but in my opinion, all the better for that. Just don't expect to leave the cinema with a smile on your face.