I Believe In Faeries

It’s L’s birthday today. Her diverse mix of presents for me are the gift wrapped Hathersage Triathlon entry, a maybe not quite so cool florescent cycling jacket (she needs to train) and something from Nancy Farmer’s Fornicating Faeries selection, she’s an artist by the way, who among other things paints very real looking faeries.

She’s also had a vampire book from Son, 'Let the right one in'. Vampires, faeries and triathlons; what does that say about L...

It’s Daughter’s last day of lessons at school today and she insisted on washing her school clothes for one final uniformed fling. The only problem is that our washer is kaput and the new one doesn't arrive until later today, hence we have drip drying uniform everywhere.

Talking of Daughter, I hope she’s not checking out the Nancy Farmer’s website during her final few lessons. Although I suppose it would fit in with her Graphics lesson, she might even get extra marks.

I cycle into work against another strong head wind. During the ride, an ambulance comes up behind me but there are two lanes and he’s in the outside lane, so there’s no need for me to take any evasive action. One of the cars in front of me did though; they drove up on to the pavement to get out of the way, nearly wiping out a pedestrian in the process. Almost causing them to need said ambulance.

It starts raining before I leave for the return journey and having offered L her choice of evening tonight, she slyly suggests that as a birthday treat I cycle straight to the Victoria where I would have to sit supping my beer in wet lycra all night. Hmmm. I’m not sure the rest of the pub would approve.

Thankfully there’s a change of plan because it’s all happening back at home. Daughter is getting ready to go out to celebrate her last day and Son is having his second shower of the day as he prepares to go out as well. He’s stocked up on alcohol, with L’s help, lots of Strongbow and blue WKD, which I would hope is for the ladies... Now all he’s got to do is get that lot over to Gedling on the bus without the driver seeing it as he flashes his under 18’s bus pass.

The upshot of all this is that we have the house to ourselves. So L tells me to meet her at home. Cool, perhaps she's sent the dogs out to a party too. So there’s plenty of motivation for a storming ride home. L even forgets to add her usual ‘be careful’. I’m going so fast that I even pass one of those motorised bikes. Ok perhaps that’s not terribly impressive; they don’t seem to go very fast. It actually seems much easier to pedal the things that wait for the battery to get you up the hills. The chap on it was actually on the slight downhill through Bramcote when I passed him. Blimey, I screech into our driveway, it only took me 46 minutes, a new PB.

We have a quiet house, the dogs are dozing as we decadently we sip wine and discuss the finer points of art before we exercise the dogs with a walk down the Plough.