Wobble, Wobble.

I am sitting with the early day sun seeping into my wee room with a cooling brew nestling in a William Morris decorated mug. We lost one of the set last week. It happens. Tom Morton’s weekly offering on the Beatcroft Social is on the Mixcloud. Gary Moore's on at the mo. 🙋

I eventually dispensed with Madame Bovary 3 weeks ago. Flaubert’s effort is, regrettably, not a classic now. Was it ever? No more salacious than Armchair Theatre or Tales of the Unexpected, both of which  are being replayed on a tele near you. More interesting, perhaps as a piece of social commentary of late 19th Century provincial France. It took me an age to read. In comparison I hurried through William Boyd’s spy novel 'Waiting for Sunrise'. When he writes well he delivers quality fiction. I found his novel Bethany Melmoth very disappointing however, but I guess everyone is allowed a wobble or two every now and again. I am now onto Ian McEwan’s Black Dogs. All charity shop buys I should point out. 😉

We have booked a couple of days in the Borders and a week, later this year, in Aberfoyle. Its all touch and go whether Scotland will be open and quite frankly I have ran out of patience with the whole thing; graphs and selective statistics; All this at the expense of every other ailment? 'phooey' as Nero Woolf would say. My dentists practice also appears to be having a having a wobble and its taken some persistent detective work to get a date for an appointment for a replacement filling 😓. In the meantime I have had to lay off the bike (cycling and cavities don’t mix well), but strangely not the chocolate. I have found myself handing over a tenner every week at the local gym. This is in order for me to throw around a couple of dumbells, squat like I was Jagger and strut around catching my reflection out the corner of my eye in one of the many full height mirrors. In the process I can also get closer to any number of similar intumescent musclebound humans. Value for money in my book, he said in a whimsical manner. Lockdown lockup. He's playing Georgie Fame now. 

I have been out tentatively in trainers once or twice this week. It seems my calf is not quite ready for more than 3 miles. When catechized, it says it's because of Covid and under today’s guidelines, regulations, statutory instruments and heresay it's not allowed to go any further. I am also running rather bow-legged as the calves say they have to be no less than a metre apart. They seem perfectly happy, however, on the bike or taking part in leg presses. They even enjoy watching their fellow quads on the adductor machine, although I think that there’s an unhealthy touch of shadenfreude there. 

The running club have hosted a couple of track meetings in the last month or two. These have drawn in athletes from all over the place desperate for a race and including a fair few athletes from up north. Not the Diamond league but some impressive performers out there. Chef Linds and Speedy Joe took part in a 800m and a 3000m and both managed pb's. The club is muttering about another meeting in October. I found myself mulling it over, but what with all this muscle I am building, I reckon its the 100m for me. Either that or Mr Olympiad with my budgies on 💪. I was offered a place at the late running Larig Ghru which was frustrating, but I had to decline it. The race went ahead, though, which I thought was laudable.

The blue Condor is in the charity bike workshop (Watbike) for a check-up before it goes on the road for the first time since its re-spray. It looks the biz. Can't wait to get my filling sorted and get out on it. I guess one benefit of all this business is that the Pro Cycling UCI calendar has all been shoe-horned into the autumn months and I have enjoyed watching race after race on whatever screen I can find. Anyway, best be off. The new backyard patio slabs won't lay themselves. Lets hope I'm up to the job. If its crap, its ok. I'll just blame the virus and todays guidelines.