Friday 15th July, 2016

Well my weekend is suddenly looking a lot more appealing.  I have decided not to do my Long March. 

I’m not proud of this truth be told.  As I imagine you had sensed I had been fairly determined to do the Race to the Stones.

I eschewed alcohol all week and had managed to potter about a 9 miler and an 18 miler just last week by way of training runs. 

Perhaps it was the fact that I was stone cold sober but when a friend said to me over a quick working lunch that if I wanted to prove to myself I could do something crazy why not try taking hero**in it resonated.  Why was I even contemplating such a ludicrous exercise?  

I wandered back to the office and rang my brother to tell him I wouldn’t be needing the four packs of raspberry energy gel packs he had bought for me.

So, ( and remind me to tell you something I need to get off my chest ) I will be lounging around at home on Saturday and Sunday and instead of killing my knees I will be making sure that  Bob gives the car a clean.  

There I was last Sunday evening hoping for a catch up with him before his first day at work ( putting marquees up and down ) when he rang to say he had got the car stuck in a field.  It’s a VW Polo for goodness sake.  What was it doing in a field in the first place?  It transpires that if you want you to chase down the perfect pigeon flight line you have to be prepared to take the car not necessarily where it’s mean to go. 

When he eventually came home, 10.30 that night, having been pulled out of his plight by his “mother in law” in her 4 by 4, you would sympathise with my fury.  Quite apart from the delicious dinner I had cooked which was by now cold, the car was trashed.

How ironic that the day after this sorry incident Bob was finally commissioned, having set up a sign outside our house offering “Well Rotted Horse Manure” for sale, to deliver “ a small trailer load “.  He readily accepted the order and offered to deliver the dung, albeit we don’t actually have a small trailer. 

I’m ashamed to say I couldn’t stop myself offering a solution.  “ Well done Bob,  Why don’t you just fork a load into the boot of the Polo.  Job done.”

So, anyway,…... If you listen closely you will find your colleagues, family, newsreader, comedians, politicians…pretty much everyone, will preface pronouncements with the word SO.  It’s only a few years ago that very word gave me kittens.  You may remember, I’ve told you before, how I derived a derogatory ACROSTIC for Tony Blair when I heard him speak in Las Vegas.  It was quite inspired of me though I say it myself…… until I came to thinking about how I could explain the second S.  The only word I could think to start the fourth paragraph with, which needed to begin with the letter S, was So.  These days I wouldn’t have any problem, but at the time I couldn’t imagine that I would be able to persuade anyone my acrostic was anything other than contrived.  I kissed my job at CLSA goodbye, but no one noticed thank goodness and my stellar career went on unchecked.  Go me.