What a day that was. Up before the crack of dawn to wake myself up at the gym. Pumped a bit of iron to wake up the boys and then on to the treadmill. They default to a 10 minute session and I forgot to change it to my usual 30 minutes. I didn’t notice my error until it started to slow after 10 minutes. My ‘in flight’ attempts to extend the time only succeeded in putting the motherboard in a right hump and it started to accelerate. And it just kept going. Ignoring my battering of the speed lever.
When it showed 25kph, I thought it sensible to abandon ship as – well – I have grandchildren and they love their grandad. Unfortunately, the lady on the neighbouring treadmill asked me if I had tried pulling back on the speed lever and my reply, asking her whether she really thought that I hadn’t thought of doing that, was delivered with a distinct lack of oxygen and a mouth full of goo. It must’ve sounded a bit overly aggressive as she powered down from her 2kph walk and left.
Not much better luck in my post work out swim. I seem to spend most of my time trying to avoid old ladies as they float around aimlessly trying to recover their wigs. I’m sure they try to gag passing men with heavy clouds of Lily of the Valley and whilst we’re disorientated, they move in to touch us inappropriately. Maybe I’m just paranoid but I DON’T LIKE IT!!!
After showering in the welcome safety of my home, I was delighted when Facebook reminded me that ‘on this day’ 4 years ago, I inadvertently left this stain after cooking piri piri chicken. A remarkable resemblance to Scrat, the acorn loving squirrel thing from the Ice Age trilogy.
I then got a text from Leanne asking me if I was still available for a sort out at the shed in the afternoon. The problem here was two fold. I was unaware of an up and coming shed sort out and I don’t know anyone called Leanne. Turned out she asked a mutual friend for the number of a different Dave but was given my number by mistake. So we wished each other a fab weekend and I moved on to the cheesy tuna pasta bake.
I needed 600ml of milk and actually had 605ml which was enough for the bake but who in their right mind can go through the day knowing that they have only 5ml of milk in their fridge? So I prepared the bake and gambled that the 20 minutes cooking time was long enough for a Tesco dash to restore my milk situation.
It took 18 minutes and that was despite the fact that a Deli Dolly caught my eye and I ended up buying 1.5kg of pork belly – even that wasn’t straight forward as I’m sure I saw her launch a spit bubble during the exchange of pleasantries. I wasn’t sure where it went but convinced myself that 4 hours in a slow cooker would neutralise any unpleasant business. I’m not sure I would be so agreeable had I been served by a man. Is that weird?
Anyway, I rammed together some cheese pastries for the skittles team. A batch with bacon and a batch with chilli and spinach. The spinach made the pastries a little damp and I was worried about the integrity of the structure but they seem OK.
Then I noticed that my landline handset said ‘no line’ so with a sinking soul, I got on to the TalkTalk online chat. These things never go well but I find it better than trying to understand a thick sub-continent accent. The problem is still outstanding but they promise me they are trying. Bless.
The slow cooked pork belly (with or without a neutralised Deli Dolly’s spit bubble) was a triumph and I made my way to skittles. After my topsy turvy day, what was skittles going to add?
No surprises. At last. A taste of normality. That’s what skittles added. Another loss but a very very fine evening of beer and screaming shenanigans. Pretty much as expected.
Anyway, I’d better go. Family lunch to commemorate the second anniversary of my mother’s death. Oh dear.
davesimba 