Ooops is all I can say. Log on to enter a new post and see i’ve a draft in the system that I hadn’t noticed before and see it’s Sundays that I was convinced i’d posted before. Must have pressed the wrong button. Oh, well. In a year I guess it won’t matter that Sundays’ title shares todays date. Maybe it was a subliminal effort to conceal my inability to skydive in a safe and controlled manner. Still, it’s there to see now.
So tonight, in my effort to cause maximum abuse to myself before June’s out, I realise I was due to go out with Andy for a curry but forgot to let Jim know. So it’s off for a couple of pints and a feast before the Juneathon run. After last evening’s 5.4, I fancied a short run. But I just got out of the taxi to realise i’ve left my kit at work. So had to climb into the old Nike Pegasus for a bit of a drunk shin shattering mile in 8 minutes from cold and here I am thinking I need to go to bed.
So i’m off.
Sorry it’s brief but after this week, I need sleep. And if the neighbour hadn’t given birth by today, she was being induced. And with the walls being a bit prone to noise transferral, I may be a touch grouchy if I don’t catch up.
316 cars. 1mm rain. 1 mile. 1 inability to convince someone it’d be fun and worth it. Nuts. Gutted.