Best laid plans

I planned to go the gym yesterday after work but at 5pm Tracey emails me and says do you want to meet up for a quick drink? and I say aaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh tempting, but I’ve promised myself that I’m going to the gym after work and I wasn’t going to drink today and even if we only have one drink I’ll end up going home via the offy and she emails back and says but you won’t see me for two weeks as I’m going away on Monday, are you sure I can’t persuade you? and I say but it’s usually more than two weeks in between seeing you anyway and I’m logging off in a couple of minutes so you haven’t got long to persuade me and she emails back says it’s Friday? so I email back and say ok, when and where? and we meet up and have a glass of wine then go to meet her mate and her mate’s sister in another pub and we have two more glasses of wine then Tracey buys a bottle of champagne to celebrate getting her compensation money for the scar that no one can see and I manage to leave before every one else before I’m tempted to drink more wine and end up in hospital and get the train home and realise I’m a bit pissed as the pages of my book are all blurry and I get home and realise I’m supposed to blog and I look at the clock and I’ve got 35 minutes ’til it’s midnight and I’m wondering what my fingers/keyboard coordination would be like and I think rubbish probably and I go to bed and I wake up hungover although I only had three glasses of wine and half a glass of champagne but we didn’t eat due to a veggie sausage and mash based fiasco and I’m too knackered to go out for a run and I don’t get to try out my new running shoes

New running shoes

and I’ll have to force myself to do a running commute on Tuesday and try them out then.

Cake culture

What is it with people in offices and cakes?  Nearly every day someone’s celebrating because it’s their birthday / their milkman’s dog’s birthday / they’re leaving / they’re shocked someone else is leaving / it’s Hallowe’en / it’s 11am on a Wednesday morning and each time I venture over to the water machine I have to try and resist the cakes and flapjacks and jam tarts and chocolate slices and caramel slices and doughnuts and tins of Celebrations and some strange unappetising looking rhubarb thing today and the only time I’ve managed to resist is when I was on Veganthon when no matter how hard I tried to avoid the packaging DAIRY screamed out at me and so I was able to not be a fat lardy cow for oh, all of a month, and I said to Paula why do people keep bringing in cakes? when it’s my birthday I’m going to bring in apples and maybe some grapes and she said she doesn’t like fruit so I said I’ll just bring some seeds in then and she said there’s more cakes tomorrow and I said ah, but they’re for sale with the money going to charity and I’m far too tight to buy my own cakes so tomorrow I will be able to resist.  Hurrah.

Vodka + wine + lager =

A late post.  I would have posted when I got in last night but a) it was after midnight and therefore not strictly speaking yesterday and; b) I wasn’t sober enough for any finger/keyboard coordination, and I would cheat and pretend I posted this yesterday but I made a drunken confession on Facebook and Warriorwoman’s been up early stalking me again and has discovered my tardiness.

But the pancakes, cherry & honey vodka, cranberry vodka, wine and lager were very nice although my head this morning is telling me maybe such overindulgence on a school night might not have been the good idea that it seemed at the time.

Mud, mud, unglorious mud

Because Shaun is insisting that I don’t live near a forest, an assumption he comes to purely because he hasn’t seen it, even when I point out the photographic evidence on this here blog, I make the rash promise of a) getting up early (i.e. some time when it’s still the a.m. bit) on Sunday to take him to said forest; and b) agreeing to take the mountain bikes there and somehow I manage to ride to the station without a) doing the whole journey via the pavement; b) killing the old man on a bike that I nearly crash into; and c) falling under a bus.  Woo, go me.

We get to the forest and after about five minutes I start moaning about the amount of mud and wanting to get back home to my sofa and the big bag of Cheshire Cheese & Chutney flavour Kettle Chips but it has to be said that the trees are a pretty Autumnal colour

Epping forest

and I agree to have an action shot taken

Epping forest

and if I look like I’m wobbling and have absolutely no control over the two wheeled thing, that’s because I am and I haven’t but I manage not to fall off and we eventually leave the forest and Shaun wonders how I manage not to fall off into the mud and decides he quite likes Chingford and we go and look at house porn in estate agent’s windows and decide to buy a house there, although probably not the one for £1.8 million.

Stats:
Sunday mornings: 1
Old men nearly crashed into: 1
Mud: Loads
Times fallen off bike: 0
Houses for £1.8 million: 1

A JogBlog world record

Because I am an idiot, I get to the gym yesterday after work and realise I’ve forgotten my trainers and I think OH NO, BUT I HAD A CHOCOLATE BISCUIT AND NOW I’M GOING TO GET FAT AND IT WASN’T EVEN A NICE CHOCOLATE BISCUIT and so this morning I think I’d better go and burn some calories as although the scales are still showing me at 9st 2, the quicker they show me under 9st the better and as I’m running towards the footbridge I think this is scary obsessional behaviour and probably how anorexics start out and I think I have no plans to turn anorexic, at least not until after I’ve gone out for pizza tonight and I go past the stables and I can hear people behind me and I turn around and there’s a couple running behind me and I think well overtake me then and they don’t overtake me and I can hear their footsteps right behind me but then they do overtake me and I think hmm, actually, I don’t want you to overtake me and I wonder if I can catch them up but I don’t bother and they go through the bridge and I think wait for me, you can save me from any murderers under there and I wonder if they’ll be able to hear me gurgle if I get stabbed in the neck but I get through the bridge without being stabbed in the neck and the girl runs up the steep bit and I think if she can run up the steep bit then so can I and I’m wondering if I’m going to have to follow them all the way home but they turn off towards the marina and I’m going down the boring bit and a dark grey beetle comes past and I think it must be the same dark grey beetle that came past me last week as surely there aren’t two people in Walthamstow so boring that they would buy a dark grey beetle when you can get cool yellow ones instead

Yellow Beetle

which is the only car ever ever ever that would tempt me to learn to drive although if I’m as successful at driving a car as I was riding a motorbike it’s probably a better idea to stick to walking everywhere and I get home and fuck me, I’ve done the marshes in under 30 minutes for the first time ever ever ever.  YAY GO ME.

Splits 8 November 2008

Stats:
Distance: 3:03 miles
Time: 29:13
Pace: 9:38 m/m
Calories: 288
Chocolate biscuits: 1
Dark grey beetles: 1
Marshes in under 30 minutes: 1
Music
Cardiacs
Muse
Jeff Buckley
Bobby Conn
The Who

NaBlo thingy day 6

It’s day 6 of the blog every day thing but I have nothing to write about except what I had for lunch, which was leek and potato soup again and I’ve decided that I don’t care if no one cares what I had for lunch because I don’t have anything else to blog about except for yesterday’s traumatic experience when I was halfway to the station in the morning and realised that I’d forgotten my mobile which was traumatic enough by itself when I realised that I’d have no way of a) checking my personal email; and even more importantly b) updating my Facebook status, but this halfway to the station trauma was nowhere near as traumatic as the halfway through the morning trauma when I was struck dumb by the terror that was WHAT IF I GET HOME AND THERE’S NO MESSAGES?

Research has (probably, but I’m making this up) proven that this paranoia stems from the olden days when answering machines were first introduced and if you didn’t get home to find the little flashing red light on your phone signifying that someone somewhere wanted to contact you (in the days before the “please replace the handset, and try again” man) then you’d spend the rest of the evening in a deep paranoia that nobody loved you (instead of the modern day paranoia that only the “please replace the handset, and try again” man loves you).

I get home and I go upstairs and rescue the phone from the bed where the cat has probably spent all day updating Catbook with “looey is eating cat food and drinking out of the toilet bowl” and lo! there’s the little envelope icon (not to be confused with a gay icon) signifying that someone wanted to contact me and it’s not even only from O2 telling me I haven’t topped up in a while but a message via Facebook from someone I haven’t seen for 22 years. Thank you Facebook for saving me from my paranoia.

Stats:
Breakfast: Muesli
Lunch: Leek and potato soup
Dinner: Butternut squash pasta sauce with penne
Mobiles forgotten yesterday: 1
Messages on forgotten mobile: 1

NaBloPoMo day 5 (a retrospective)

Is it cheating to blog retrospectively?  I decide no, that’s what timestamps are for.  Although I was hoping to do it undetected but Warriorwoman has got up early to stalk me and spotted the gap in the NaBloPoMo thing.

But when you’re blogging retrospectively, but cheating by backdating the post stamp do you call it today or yesterday?  I suppose the sensible thing to do would be to cheat properly and backdate the post stamp and call it today and just pretend that it’s not really yesterday and then no one (except Warriorwoman) would know that you went out drinking and eating Chinese food instead of staying in and blogging and then tonight I can come home and blog and call it today and it really will be today and not yesterday.

This blog every day thing is too confusing.

Stats:
Blog posts on their proper days: 0
Breakfast: Muesli
Lunch: Leek and potato soup
Dinner: Hot and sour soup, pancake rolls, deep fried mushrooms, vegetables in curry sauce and noodles

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