Late last night, L used the 'D' word, 'Darling', and in a tone of voice that usually implies she's after a favour. Turns out she needs a run and wonders if I'd like to take her on one in the morning. As ever her wish is my command, so at 6am I'm up and getting ready. L, who is adept at clinging by her fingernails to a warm bed time for as along as possible, actually isn't that far behind.
The predicted snowfalls, which even looked feasible with last night's low temperatures haven't materialised. The weather is now 4-5 degrees warmer and it is p-ing it down. Nice.
I worry whether MD will be up for it, as he hasn't been recently but he's first to the front door. Doggo though is looking well reluctant, he likes his lie-in's as much as L and doesn't do rain.
We skip the pond because it would have been seriously muddy and instead stick to roads and the verges.
Run done, I take the bus in to work. I walk from the town centre out to Pride Park listening to the Killers new album. Is it just me or is Brandon Flowers starting to sound like Chris De Burgh? It's probably just me.
L's down to the last 20 lengths of her channel swim, so sometime tomorrow she'll be sipping a French red in a Dunkirk hostelry unless she lands in Calais and obviously pool staffing levels permitting. She says she'll still do her usual 40 lengths. In which case, she best watch her knees on the shingle when she hits that beach.
A bonus pub trip today, just to ensure we get two in before Christmas.
My squash opponent wants to know how my ‘scratch’ is. Hmmm, my stab wound has actually healed quite well and the doctor says I should be able to dispense with the white stick quite soon. I'm certainly fit enough to play tonight but alas we have a more pressing matter, relaunched Son has his parents evening at college. It's a shame, because I owe him an injury.
We come out of the college stunned, in fact, I feel like I've been hit on the head again, talk about a glowing report. Quite a turnaround.