I knew today was going to be fretful, what with the architect (in fact, 2 of them) being down on site, but the afternoon turned out to be almost catastrophic.
I’d been planning to pick someone up from the station and hate being late, so warned everyone i’d be off early. But, predictably when the time came I had a demand to be in two places at the same time. So I compromised and did half a job and left a few minutes later than hoped. Only to receive a message 5 minutes from home that I was late. Bugger. And that was after driving like a rally driver (well, I always did state there was no point in traction control and anti-lock brakes if they weren’t to be used. Did nothing to control the sliding drifts on the better corners still, but hey, a man’s got to live!), too.
So, got home eventually, enjoyed a brilliant evening, nice meal, decent beer, receiving just the right amount of abuse and piss taking, returned my guest to the station and ran home. In the worst trainers, but hey, it’s still Juneathon. Not a great distance. But a great evening, so baa!. Back to the seafront tomorrow.
0.7 miles. 300 cars. One massive story about lying about ones age. Smart.
