That Old Trick

It's minus three but I brave it and bus/run to work. I run in the morning rather than in the afternoon because running after work, like Cycling, doesn't give my legs enough time to recover before squash. Then I arrive at work to an email telling me that my opponent has cancelled squash due to him having a bit of a sniffle. That's my diagnosis not his, he says he's on his death bed. He won't play me if there's any chance his performance is likely to be impaired to an extent that I beat him. So, I could have cycled and indeed could have swum post-work.

He claimed last week that I hadn't beaten him for a year. Hmmm, how embarrassing. I checked back through this highly useful blog and discovered that we'd had three 2-2 draws and in fact one, but just the one, 2-1 win for me. This I assume he's not counting because it was the one where he retired from heat exhaustion because it was so hot on court. Obviously, I am counting it. Why wouldn't I? I would happily have played on that day.

Excitement at the swimming pool for L, when the fire alarm goes off and they are evacuated. L decided she'd rather burn than get dressed outside the leisure centre so she, like all the other girls, slipped the essentials on first before finishing off in the foyer. Meanwhile all the chaps were outside freezing to death.

Apparently, it was one of the blokes who had accidently set the alarm off with the hair dryer. Ah, that old trick. He probably just wanted to watch all the girls get changed in the foyer. Someone always used to do that at school whenever the fifth form (year 11 in modern money) girls were in the showers after PE.

We're out of real coffee at work and only have de-caff, consequently I've been struggling to stay awake all day.

On the way home it starts snowing; we have around half an inch of pretty decent stuff. I take the boys for a walk in it, fearing it could be the last of the year. I don't reckon this batch will stick around long but obviously, the schools will be closed tomorrow.

So MD gets a good bomb around the pond. Doggo doesn’t bomb of course but is happy just meandering around in his own time, he likes to leave the bombing to others but even Doggo looked concerned when we thought we'd lost MD at one point. He reappeared eventually, from somewhere, and then sheepishly stuck to my side the rest of the time.

At home L is baking us a fruit cake for Scotland, whilst Daughter serenades us with White Lies, so they must have left an impression last night.