Life’s great, the way it offers surprises to alter a day. Waking up I wondered what sort of experiences I’d have. I’d rather not have found out one of them, at least.
This morning was unremarkable except for my fury at my labourer for sitting in a traffic jam for 2 hours, updating the entire site with what was occurring around him (nothing, mainly. He was sat on a road between several other idiots) until I found out and suggested he turned around and came to work a different way. Especially since we were paying for his fuel. And his truck. 20 minutes later he arrived. Prick.
Just before lunch I was hunting for drain fittings I was sure I’d ordered and, having just found them, caught a smell of drain. Not known for my sense of smell I looked down the manhole damaged by the roadworks gang 4 months ago (not worth repairing it yet) and saw it was blocked. Turning around I saw, along with the forklift driver, a veritable of sea of excrement. The next manhole in line had lifted it’s lid with hydraulic pressure and the shit was about 10 feet all around it. Getting the driver to obtain some drain rods while I opened the fence, I obtained a plank to make a way to the chamber to rod it (or at least see if the blockage was there and not off site). When he got back I approached the brickwork and didn’t think. Simply didn’t engage my brain that we’d left the backfilling of the manhole until after the last connection. Before I could stop myself I stepped from the plank onto not the brickwork structure for which I should have aimed but just before it. Into a knee deep cesspit of shit. Other peoples (the drain serves our site and the row of 14 houses alongside it) shit. Straight down my boot, filling it up. Just short of my coat; thankfully I kept my balance as I started laughing.
Finding the blockage was easy. Knowing my feet were surrounded by turds less so. A hasty retreat to wash myself was undertaken. Trousers changed for the pair I drive to work in. Boots thrown away (I’ll never wash them out well enough. Might as well not bother). Feet washed (before changing) in an outside tap. That was cold. Legs washed in the site sinks. Socks disposed of and swapped for my running socks – the first truly excellent thing Janathon has done for me! The worst bit was actually having to buy fuel on the way home. In my black trousers, black shoes and white socks. If there had been a nightclub around I’d have had 40 year-old stereotype written all over me. I wanted a sign to excuse my sartorial inelegance. I just had to put up with shame.
Once washed, though, my feet seemed to burn with heat. Nice, considering it was still freezing outside.
Once settled down and fed, it was time to go for a jog. And since the sun had reappeared, what better route than yesterday’s countryside and frozen lane run backwards. That’s as in the reverse route, not running backwards. Not even Janathon will make me do that.
I had a veritable spring in my step but the uphills really hurt my thighs. Definitely a sign of fatigue as the miles pile up. Still a bit better than yesterday though. Maybe swapping my fleece for a running top and hi-vis was a good bet; I was worried I’d still be out as it got dark as well as hoping the extra nylon layer might be about right for temperature maintenance. It didn’t get dark and all but my hands stayed warm. Nice.
No rain today. Nor snow. Fingers crossed things stay that way.