Friday, 2 November 2012

Where Eagles Dare

I'm sitting in the lounge with the dog watching ‘Where Eagles Dare’.  I’m watching it, not the dog. She prefers Downton.  Eastwood and Burton.  A classic. Major Bernard Himler, Indeed! With Halloween out of the way I’m surrounded by small bags of sweets, this being due to a meagre attendance on the guising front. Maybe that was because I was hiding in the back room with the lights off. The kids these days just seem to stand there. What does trick or treat really mean? Where’s the poetry. A bit of MacBeth, thats all we want. I remember stumbling round Cumbernauld in a pillow case when I was four. Nothing to do with Halloween; thats just what we did then. Will the sweeties keep till next years Halloween... I think not.
Tonights track session wasn’t quite the snowy highlands of Bavaria but it was the first time I’ve run in freezing temperatures since getting back from the holiday and you could see the sparkling frost on parts of the red tartan.  Nice to run for the first time under the floodlights. It was like being at Maryhill all over again. Well, it would have been, I imagine, had Partick signed me up.

Took the bike abroad last week, which was just as well as it was plenty hot. Too hot to run. It was the end of the season, so there wasn’t hoards of folk around. Not sure why I took Dickens ‘Hard Times’ to read...hardly seaside literature. It was also a bit of a drag coughing and spluttering through each ride having picked up a snotty cold from my generous fellow passengers.  There were some tasty climbs, though, and I wish I had felt better.  But at least I’ve now a small, but select section on the ‘Strava’ website which is in greek.  Always good to bamboozle the competition. Not too hard to get near the top of the league on a greek island where there are only 2 other bikies.
Last night was the first time in a week and a half that I was feeling chipper and plodded round the dimly lit townscape with a bit of bounce (I should really leave those tumble dryer sheets at home).

I keep on seeing my former dentist who seems to have got the running bug bad. Trouble is he looks in good shape and finished just behind me at a 10k in the summer. I may have to invite him up to the house and keep him waiting for 20 minutes in the lounge before asking him to book for an appoinment on another day (as you do). That'll slow him down.

Tonight’s sesh of six times eight hundreds was passable but there’s a long way to go before I’m in any shape.  The home made chips and beer I’ve just had will help, but not in an athletics way.  Good for the soul I think they say. I even had a jam and bread afterwards.  What a rebel. Jabba the hutt. Clearly need to get a couple of target races to aim for and knock me into shape. Meanwhile the cyclo cross season is well underway and there’s a race in Dunbar next weekend so that might be a change. Need to see if theres enough greenbacks for the diesel.

I know how you relish the kitchenalia, so I can tell you that the toasters been binned now. Its been decades since I was perched over the sink with a knife scraping the burnt bit off the side that I left under the grill too long, but it brought back memories. The inconvenience has, however, got the better of nostalgia and It’ll be off to Argos to buy a new one today. The demise of the old one was messy and involved a wet tea-towel. The tea towel didn't make it either.

 Clint and Richard have just scrambled off the roof of the cable car now, so have to go.  

No comments: