We drove the 7 hour round trip to take my father out for lunch on Saturday, together with our younger son who came back for the weekend. My father is still in very good shape for 95, and long may that continue.
I spent a couple of hours at the cycle park on Sunday, helping to run more training classes for children still on balance bikes, and some just moving on to pedals. With a good deal of pedal removal and saddle height and brake adjustments, it was a rewarding session, but hard work in unseasonal sunshine.
A long walk Sunday afternoon was a great way to finish the weekend and a visit to the gym early on Monday morning for a hard 50 minutes was a good way to start the new week. I’m a bit worried that I’m enjoying the gym too much and have even caught myself looking in the mirrors (happily, my physique does not justify any vanity on my part).
Later on Monday we drove up to London to take our son back, check the older boy’s flat and collect my wife’s (ridiculously expensive) watch from its (ridiculously expensive) battery change and service. Still, she gets great pleasure from it so it’s well worthwhile.
On Tuesday morning we ran from the flat and did the usual run into Hammersmith, down the Thames Path and back. In all, 7 km (4.3 miles) and very enjoyable in more good weather. Nearly a seventh of next year’s the ultra marathon distance – not sure if I’m encouraged or daunted.
My crusade to make contact with fellow runners in London was not going well until one very nice lady runner not only smiled but engaged in a brief conversation. From such small beginnings ….
On Wednesday I spent some time going through the bike graveyard that has accumulated in association with the Woman’s tour coming through Faringdon, and the cycle training and cycle park. The aim is to produce some workable bikes for use in the training.
After that I mowed. The willow tree succeeded in taking the ear defenders off my head and has a new tactic – it managed to sweep the lever that operates the blades into the off position so I mowed a certain amount beneath the willow without cutting any grass at all. I hate to admit it but that’s 2-0 to the willow …. outsmarted by a tree.
To paraphrase ‘Chicken Run’, those willows are organised.
On a rather more professional sporting note, a classic cricket ‘Ashes’* series against Australia has finished – a 2 wins each from the 5 matches (one match drawn), the series is tied, but Australia retain the Ashes (boo).
Now on to the Rugby World Cup. I wish the best of luck to everyone competing and look forward to a great tournament – but I hope that all but England are fighting for the runners-up spot.
*Australian cricket had its first series win in England in 1882-3. A mock obituary to the death of English cricket appeared in a newspaper, stating that the body would be burnt and the ashes taken to Australia. After wins on the next tour in Australia, the English team were presented with a small urn said to contain the ashes of a burnt bail (one of the bits of wood that sits on the top of the stumps) described as the ashes of Australian cricket – a symbol of what the English team had come to retake. The urn takes pride of place at Lord’s cricket ground in London, the ‘home of cricket’.
(an Old Man in Lycra) 