Below is the Sportstracker from my cycle into the office today. Yes evidently I really was cycling at an average speed of 1752 km/hour for 202 km. Only slightly different from last week's journey of 30km at 24km/hour
Maybe.
I was missing Auntie Gwen who hasn't put finger to keyboard for ages it seems. So I sent her a text to find out what was going on. Evidently her broadband is supplied by her company, and they have banned her blog. Too much porn and fecking (which is one and the same really). Poor Auntie Gwen...I hope she finds a way round it - I would suggest a proxy server, but don't really know what that means or how to go about it.....
After a bit of a lull, our busy social life has begun to pick up again. Friday night we went to see Florence and The Machine. The last time we tried that, it nearly ended up in tears as the tickets we had been sent were forgeries...it was only through the sterling efforts of the ticketing agency that we managed to get new ones and got to enjoy a brilliant show. This time it was easier...did I get them through American Express, I may have done, it was certainly without problems. We four went with The Spanish Girl and her husband and went for a delicious meal first. I'm not sure that fine dining really goes with a gig, but hey ho. She was performing at Ally Pally, which if you've never been to is an absolutely splendid place with one of the best views of London you can imagine. She performed brilliantly, faultlessly with a band that included a string section and a chorus. We weren't as near to the front as I'm used to...but the days when it was just The Boy and I and we would arrive early and shoulder our way to the front are long gone, but standing on tip-toe we could generally see her (well I would have been able to if I'd brought my glasses). Amazingly she still comes across as a rather pleasant girl from suburbia.
On Saturday, whilst The Boy went off on an inter-school United Nations event The Cat's Mother and I went off to the big shopping centre at Westfield Stratford...which was the sort of mindless exercise we needed being so tired that we could have spent the whole day asleep. The only thing to report from there is that SHE wouldn't allow me to buy a new camera, which seems quite harsh following on as it does from being told not to buy a new motorbike. I'm feeling hard done by, but less broke than I would if I'd been encouraged. Although The Boy didn't fully explain it, the event he was at was one where several schools get together to discuss matters of international interest. The Boy was representing the USA, which was always going to be an uphill challenge. Everyone is supposed to follow the views of the country they are representing. We received some interesting texts from him during the course of the day including "Don't they understand, the USA has a hangover" and "China and N Korea are knobs". Anyway, fortunately World War Three was narrowly avoided, even if the world order seemed to have changed - which included Portugal supporting North Korea, and some inappropriate and quite undiplomatic advances from Mexico.
Yesterday was spent at an Edwardian breakfast. And it was a fair reflection of those times that it started at midday. Whether it was authentic I have no idea. I do know it was scrummy. There were around thirty of us at Butchers Farm. Which is owned by a baker. There was no sign of the candlestick maker. Breakfast consisted of:
Grapefruit (with red wine)
Porridge (with whisky)
Kedgeree (with white wine)
Eggs, bacon, sausages, black pudding, baked beans potato fritters, tomato (with port)
Pastries (with cognac)
As the clearing up started, the boys all plonked themselves in front of the TV to pass judgement on the English team and the French-speaking Irish ref. Their view of the French team was decided long before kick-off. The wine flowed throughout, especially as it was a nail biting game. No wonder we were poured into the taxi at the end of it.
Sat here at my desk on Monday morning, I'm feeling weary.....and no wonder. Oh, have I said that already?