Swivel

Holy macaroni. I nipped into a stationary store today to buy paper, a swivelly chair for Aggie and a new phone. The paper was for me. The chair offers cheap entertainment to her majesty. Her idea of a good time is to jump out of the hedge at you while you're cutting it with a petrol driven hedge trimmer. We need something safer. The phone had broken but is also needed so that she can practice her shouting when she can't hear whose at the other end of the line.

At the checkout they asked if I wanted insurance - some sort of extended guarantee 'just in case the chair breaks' they said. I declined. Did they know whom I was getting it for? They then tried to foist a store card on me. Also declined. I was waiting for them to ask for my email address which is the most recent way to squeeze you dry of your personal details, but by that time I had swivelled my way out of the swing doors. My inside leg measurement was safe for another week.

On the way home, chair and phone safely tucked up, I stopped at the local mini-supermarket to buy toilet paper. Yes, I'm not afraid to admit that those that frequent the small room in chez Al are not blue blooded. Well that's the commoners, at least: Aggie claims to be descended from Cauldwell of that Ilk from the 17th Century. I checked this. Apart from missing 150 years of evidence, it could well be true. I think, however, she goes too far with her tiara, white gloves and sedan chair.  I digress.

The till operator asked if I wanted a bag for the bog roll, which was already in a bag. I said 'why not?'. They asked if I had a store card. I advised not. They asked if I wanted one.  I declined. They then gave me my change and sent me on my way saying 'Enjoy'.   I mean...eh? its toilet paper, not caviar?

...look at the verge on that..

Back home I mused on this weeks training. I had knocked out a sterling 35 miles from Sunday to Wednesday including an exotic midweek 6 miles round Lincoln in the sun; but yesterday was a no exercise day, as a result of being down country, but mostly because I was on the M6 where its tricky to park up and jog. Today I'm thinking there could be a race on at the weekend and the idea of a 45 minute plod through the woods may prove adequate. If I'm a little short of miles by the weekend I could always ask someone to tape me into Aggies new chair and launch me down the hill - 'sgotta be worth a couple more miles. By the way, caviar is about eighty quid for 30 grammes. Just so you know. Stick to the gels.