Today saw the second anniversary of the greatest union of the twenty first century. Forget anything that happened in America; forget any political conjuring; forget all reference to science.
After a few months thinking she was safe, two years ago today finally saw JogBlog see sense (through the bottom of a Hoegarden glass) and succumb to my obvious attractiveness.
So we went to the pub that saw witness to the event, followed by a visit to the Indian restaurant that makes me want to move back to Headcorn (but I had Indian Thai fusion food that is simply irresistable), followed by a pint of Flowers in the pub over the road. And here I am, having to get up before six o’clock, still to Juneathon at 11.25pm.
So tonight, Matthew, Juneathon is going to be press-ups.
Specifically: “How many press ups can I do after a big meal and two pints and a coke. When I’ve been up since 5.45. In 30 seconds.”
One way to find out…
Ok, I did 5 to warm up. Then rested for 10 seconds. And then, in what may be the shortest Juneathon in history, having not done quick press ups for a good few years (how many excuses can I make for not doing as many as I used to?!), the result is:
So, one anniversary. One very tired man. One marvellous evening. 49 press ups in 30 seconds. (The 5 done in preparation, if it can be called that, don’t count). And a need for sleep.
I’m going now.