Slaying the Wolf

Firstly I have to say that we were actually rather good last night. We had pasta before we went out, gave the crisps and the scratching to the dogs (well most of them) and didn't have the cheese on toast. The beer though, which was called 'Wolf' and was 5.5%, I'm not apologising for.

We only quickly do the park because the dogs still look knackered from last night and then I slay last night's 'Wolf' by cycling to and from the match. Another 30 miles. The match is even worth it as Derby power in an equaliser in the third minute of injury time.

On the way back though my gears start playing up, which is not good with the Hellathon only three weeks away.

L's out at gym when I get home, slaying her own 'Wolf' obviously. I meet her afterwards at Johnsons, we feel the 'Wolf' needs company. Then we head up to the Ropewalk where perhaps we have too much wine. We haven't been in the Ropewalk for a while, well not really since they re-opened the excellent Hand And Heart a few doors down.

Here's a bit of trivia for you, the Ropewalk looks out onto what used to be (and still technically is) a crossroads, where they used to bury suicides at the end of the eighteenth century. It is now a modern mess of a junction. Crossroads were used for suicides because suicide was seen as a bad thing and according to legend when the spirit leaves the body it is filled with a desire to get back home. So they buried them at crossroads in the hope that the spirit would get lost and be unable to find its way back to its relatives. This is also apparently why people disguise themselves in black at funerals, so that the dead won't recognise them and follow them home.

None of this was going through my head as we finished the wine and managed to choose the right junction to stagger home.