Wax ‘n’ Polish

I hobble into work via the bus. Although my calf seems to be ok at the moment, the reason for this is probably because my ‘broken’ ankle has simply taken my mind off it. I think it was the double football on Saturday morning with the dogs that did it but I’m not worried about the ankle, I’ve been running on it in that state for years, and even my ‘dislocated’ shoulder seems to be mending slowing.

L’s been at the gym, doing her Sportive training workout on the bike. This is instead of the Kilomathon training workout and the LBD training workout. LBD, I assumed was lower body... something but I’m corrected. It stands for little black dress.

She’s also forgotten her breakfast again. This she seems to do more times than I care to remember or is it all part of the LBD training workout. Honestly she should be as thin as a rake but she’ll probably be at the chocolate biscuits for breakfast instead. Oooh I stand corrected, it was scrounged Ryvita.

After work she heads off for a quick skate on the outdoor rink. Well it won’t be a quick skate as she has to wait for the tardy one, Daughter. So it’s a good job the 6pm session is booked up solid because Daughter would have been at least twenty minutes late for it. Something to do with the whole wax ‘n’ polish ‘n’ hairspray thing a teenager has to put themselves through.

Having mastered the art of skating and talking simultaneously during their Saturday session, L now intends to work on the slightly important art of stopping; that is without having to crash into the barriers. This isn’t, I don’t think, how the professionals do it. Well, you never see them do it like that on the TV. So she’s been having some skating lessons, courtesy of YouTube, to try and find a more ladylike way to stop. Son learnt to snowboard on a video game so why not. So tonight, she’ll hopefully be trying out the snowplough or the t-stop.

If I wasn’t in the Brunswick having a few pints, I’d be there for moral support and to take sneaky photos. As it is I have to contend myself with the beer and a new beer at that, Derby Pride, which is nice and dark but still isn’t as good as the Railway Porter. Then it’s off for a pizza before catching the bus back home, where I’m met by L and the boys. L showing no noticeable signs of barrier bruising from her evening’s activities.