A Victory Of Sorts

For once it's a pleasant drive to work, as it's the school holidays, the absence of all those people carriers makes such a difference.

No Hellathon training today but I do fit in a game of squash. I resolve to get more motivated this week and to serve a lot harder and deeper. My rejuvenated enthusiasm seems to catch my opponent out. I win the first game and then lose a close second that I really should have won. Normality seems to be restored when he wins the third but as he's leading the fourth, time is called by the next people due on court. Now invoking his own rules, used on those rare occasions when I've been leading at the end of play, that's a draw, as neither of us have won the required three games for victory. 'No result' he calls it instead. No matter what he sees it as, I see it as a victory of sorts.

After the match I'm practically AF, as I have a 3.6% mild, hardly counts as alcohol and I know L will be necking something on her running/eating/drinking night out in Derby. Then he tips his Belgian beer collection into the boot of my car. He's sold me over 30 bottles that he's not been drinking and all for a fiver because they're all well out of date. Not that that tends to matter with Belgian ale. Should keep us going for a bit.