And that, I’m afraid, will be the limit of positive expression this week.
A chilly (yep, in late June. Thanks, wind and cloud. Longest day indeed. If you turn the lights on early. In fact, having to have the dining room lights on to read the paper as I eat at 6.20am is a bit of a joke but I’m sure the utility companies are rubbing their collective hands with glee) mountainbike ride yesterday where I forgot to start the Garmin for a fair portion of the ride was fun and fast since only two of us were out, but a badly nosedived landing off one of only about three jumps doesn’t bode well for Morzine in a month. Must get more air time before departure.
And awaking today to the howling wind made me pretty sure I wouldn’t be running. I’ve given up with the weather.
But my mood became lower and lower as the afternoon wore on (despite cleaning the house, hoovering and washing the floors, changing the bed and hoovering the walls. Yep, hoovering the walls. It’s an 18th century former bakery and corbels in from 1.5b wall thickness to 1b halfway up the walls upstairs – a lovely, soft curve. Which collects dust. I usually forget to hoover it, today I was feeling thorough) and by 5.30 I decided that the only hope was a jog.
So I set off for 3 miles around the lanes and, by 2 miles, decided it was a good job I was only out for another 1. Not a happy boy at all.
Only 40 miles targeted for the end of the month and I don’t know if I can be arsed to do many more than about 20. Hopefully I’ll have a good trip to London tomorrow evening – work have decided they couldn’t be bothered to sort cover for my (1 month ago) booked day off and are presuming I’ll be there on Monday. As I feel at the moment, they might be unlucky.
A return to happy blogging before the end of Juneathon? Hmm, let me think about that…