I’ve been feeling a mounting panic and pressure at work, probably for not much reason, but then these things rarely are in my experience. Even if they are, the greater scheme of things probably won’t be altered by my activities and it’s this in the back of my mind that helps keep things pleasant. But challenging a visiting superior to the site to sack me for not following company policy on a couple of issues, while providing me personally with merry amusement, may not have been too effective in my “how to keep your head below the parapet” job security policy. I’ll wait for his report to assess the shrapnel damage.
I spent the afternoon considering my cucumbers and the sheep in the field behind my house. They’ve had their summer haircut and look ridiculous, all goggle eyed and skinny, but then they possibly think the same of me so I won’t tell them…there’s 22 of them to throw abuse back, after all. When not thinking of this or the run, the time flew and the seafront beckoned. Along with the rain starting just as I left the office. I thought it might be nice to get wet from the outside for a change, but it stopped after about a mile so I was left pondering my leg pain. Which is a bit harsh, so a short run may be tomorrow’s recipe. Still, I had a shock at about 2.5 (I’ll go decimal to avoid 1/2 mile confusion from now on…anything to help!) miles in…
I’ve never seen anything so hideous as the bloke running toward me, all vest and short, short shorts with HIS BOLLOCKS HANGING OUT OF HIS LEFT LEG.
Yep, two knackers. His cods on display. A pair of swinging plums. Thank god I couldn’t see his emaciated spam javelin; instead of nearly crying in horror and laughter, i’d probably have chundered over him if I had, but wow! I new my eyes hated me before, but this was new depths. Fashion police? Surely just the police would do!
Suffice to say, the run back to the office seemed to pass in a flash…
Then in the car, taking the slow route through Silverhill, I spotted the most orange legs of my career…really dayglow to half way up the calves, then tango to the skirt line.
Hastings, you did me proud today.
Oh, and 12mm rain. 4.2 Juneathon miles. 346 cars.