It's nearly February and there is still Christmas food in the house.
It's all bad, too - Quality Street and chocolate orange.
All the good I am doing with running and walking and working out is being undone by Christmas food.
Tonight it was six times round the 660-metre loop on Paignton seafront with rests in between. Mine went 2.52, 2.45, 2.47, 2.48, 2.48, 2.50, so if you take the first one as a 'sighter', they were pretty consistent. I finished ahead of a couple of people I would normally finish behind, so I was happy.
Then I went and spoiled it all by eating something stupid like Mrs H's fabulous risotto and a fistful of Quality Street...
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
Walk Home Wednesday
I HAVE started a new thing, a thing which will probably last all of a fortnight.
I am going to get a lift to work on Wednesdays, and then walk home.
Why?
I have no idea.
Maybe it's something to do with my carbon footprint, maybe it's to do with fitness. Certainly I need to get some miles in with some long races coming up this season.
So I ducked out of the office door at 5.05 and stepped it out for the six miles home. I made Torre Station at 5.22, then the Grand Hotel at 5.37. I made up a bit of time up over Hollicombe (5.50) and was at Manor Cross by 6.00. A couple of shortcuts through town saw me at Conway Road for 6.15, then a final push up the hill brought me through the door at 6.27. Not bad going. A benchmark of 1h 22m is set, and I'm not sure I could go much faster without breaking into a trot, which I'm not going to do.
I never even put on the iPod, which I had carefully pre-loaded with inspirational tunes.
It will be more fun when the evenings are lighter, I reckon.
I am going to get a lift to work on Wednesdays, and then walk home.
Why?
I have no idea.
Maybe it's something to do with my carbon footprint, maybe it's to do with fitness. Certainly I need to get some miles in with some long races coming up this season.
So I ducked out of the office door at 5.05 and stepped it out for the six miles home. I made Torre Station at 5.22, then the Grand Hotel at 5.37. I made up a bit of time up over Hollicombe (5.50) and was at Manor Cross by 6.00. A couple of shortcuts through town saw me at Conway Road for 6.15, then a final push up the hill brought me through the door at 6.27. Not bad going. A benchmark of 1h 22m is set, and I'm not sure I could go much faster without breaking into a trot, which I'm not going to do.
I never even put on the iPod, which I had carefully pre-loaded with inspirational tunes.
It will be more fun when the evenings are lighter, I reckon.
Thursday, 14 January 2010
Winter Wonderland 2
Well, it's been a while.
It did snow that night, but not all that much.
Mrs H, Reg and I went out walking in the morning and it looked like this
Titter ye not, that's a lot of snow for Paignton.
Then, over the next few days, it all turned to compacted ice and slush, and it wasn't so much fun. Mrs H was just waiting for me to fall over, but I just about stayed upright.
Her car still won't start, though. It's a mystery, and one we hope to get solved with a bit of expert intervention this weekend.
Both daughters have gone back to Bristol now, Older one on the train and Younger one thanks to a drive up the M5 through the blizzards yesterday.
Blizzards might be going it a bit, but it was certainly snowing pretty hard around Bridgwater, and Bristol itself had a good thick blanket of the stuff.
The drive back was pretty grim, but brightened somewhere around Wellington, where the grey motorway stretched away into the fog, with white banks on all sides. A heron suddenly appeared from the side of the road and flapped lazily across six lanes of traffic, about 12 feet off the ground, in brilliant detail against the gunmetal late afternoon sky. It was just high enough to avoid everyone and treat us all with the disdain we deserved, and as it crossed the hard shoulder it spread out its great curved wings ready for landing.
OK, it's not a herd of wildebeest crossing the Serengeti plain, but it was a bright spot in a dull journey.
It did snow that night, but not all that much.
Mrs H, Reg and I went out walking in the morning and it looked like this
Titter ye not, that's a lot of snow for Paignton.Then, over the next few days, it all turned to compacted ice and slush, and it wasn't so much fun. Mrs H was just waiting for me to fall over, but I just about stayed upright.
Her car still won't start, though. It's a mystery, and one we hope to get solved with a bit of expert intervention this weekend.
Both daughters have gone back to Bristol now, Older one on the train and Younger one thanks to a drive up the M5 through the blizzards yesterday.
Blizzards might be going it a bit, but it was certainly snowing pretty hard around Bridgwater, and Bristol itself had a good thick blanket of the stuff.
The drive back was pretty grim, but brightened somewhere around Wellington, where the grey motorway stretched away into the fog, with white banks on all sides. A heron suddenly appeared from the side of the road and flapped lazily across six lanes of traffic, about 12 feet off the ground, in brilliant detail against the gunmetal late afternoon sky. It was just high enough to avoid everyone and treat us all with the disdain we deserved, and as it crossed the hard shoulder it spread out its great curved wings ready for landing.
OK, it's not a herd of wildebeest crossing the Serengeti plain, but it was a bright spot in a dull journey.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Winter Wonderland 1
SNOW is falling, all around me.
Outside the cul-de-sac is quieter than usual, because no-one has ventured out much tonight. We made a slippery dash to the Spar shop about nine, but there's no sound out there now.
Someone has spread grit across the road, which is nice. I have put a couple of shovel-fulls on the steep sloping driveway in the hope of being able to get the car out tomorrow.
Mrs H's car is refusing to start at the moment, so we are a one-Mazda family for the time being.
So, the big question is this. When the alarm goes off in the morning and we look out of the window towards Collaton and the green hills beyond, how much snow will there be?
At the moment you can just see a handful of tiny flakes fluttering about under the orange street lights. A dusting has settled on the ground, about the thickness of icing sugar on a mince pie.
The weathermen say much more is up there in the clouds, waiting to fall. How much will there be?
Outside the cul-de-sac is quieter than usual, because no-one has ventured out much tonight. We made a slippery dash to the Spar shop about nine, but there's no sound out there now.
Someone has spread grit across the road, which is nice. I have put a couple of shovel-fulls on the steep sloping driveway in the hope of being able to get the car out tomorrow.
Mrs H's car is refusing to start at the moment, so we are a one-Mazda family for the time being.
So, the big question is this. When the alarm goes off in the morning and we look out of the window towards Collaton and the green hills beyond, how much snow will there be?
At the moment you can just see a handful of tiny flakes fluttering about under the orange street lights. A dusting has settled on the ground, about the thickness of icing sugar on a mince pie.
The weathermen say much more is up there in the clouds, waiting to fall. How much will there be?
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
Back to normal
THE roads are still quiet, but otherwise it's pretty much back to normal after an excellent Christmas break.
I think I may have found a new career for myself at the Totnes Christmas market. I am going to live on a commune in Dunkeswell, grown a beard and bake bread. That seems to be what these chaps do, and they look well on it.
Their bread is great, their beards are bushy and they all appear stress-free and serene. I'm signing on.
Elsewhere, there was ice aplenty, and the Caerphilly Kid's significant other, Rachel, fell and broke her wrist badly on a patch of ice about 50 yards down the road from us.
With the Kid out fearlessly delivering Her Majesty's Royal Mail in conditions of Arctic cold, we drove her to hospital, picking our way between crashed cars and sliding pedestrians as we did so.
Mrs H had her knee operation cancelled because the surgeon was stuck out in the sticks somewhere.
Alan even had to cancel our traditional Christmas Eve club run because of the ice, so we retired to a house of plentiful refreshment for a fried breakfast instead.
After a perfect Christmas Day with family and fine food, the Boxing Day Dip beckoned, and five fearless runners took the plunge.
Then it was Daughter of Caerphilly Kid's 18th birthday party, with Neil, younger son of Bazza and brother of Tom Down Under, performing DJ duties. It is a small world indeed.
I was in dancing mode, with several pints of cider on board, but Mrs H has been under the weather and didn't throw as many shapes as we might have liked. And not even a blast of vintage Abba could get Mr Fangio onto the parquet flooring.
Bob Sinclar's 'Love Generation' saw me in full arm-swinging soft-shoe shuffling mode. Click here for a great tune. Your arms will be swinging too.
Bank Holiday brought a long dog walk and an extraordinary lunch courtesy of Nanna and DIY Dave. Reg and Baxter drove one another to distraction while we dined on Nanna's wonderful cooking.
And so back to work. Happy holidays, and New Year still to come...
I think I may have found a new career for myself at the Totnes Christmas market. I am going to live on a commune in Dunkeswell, grown a beard and bake bread. That seems to be what these chaps do, and they look well on it.
Their bread is great, their beards are bushy and they all appear stress-free and serene. I'm signing on.
Elsewhere, there was ice aplenty, and the Caerphilly Kid's significant other, Rachel, fell and broke her wrist badly on a patch of ice about 50 yards down the road from us.
With the Kid out fearlessly delivering Her Majesty's Royal Mail in conditions of Arctic cold, we drove her to hospital, picking our way between crashed cars and sliding pedestrians as we did so.
Mrs H had her knee operation cancelled because the surgeon was stuck out in the sticks somewhere.
Alan even had to cancel our traditional Christmas Eve club run because of the ice, so we retired to a house of plentiful refreshment for a fried breakfast instead.
After a perfect Christmas Day with family and fine food, the Boxing Day Dip beckoned, and five fearless runners took the plunge.
Then it was Daughter of Caerphilly Kid's 18th birthday party, with Neil, younger son of Bazza and brother of Tom Down Under, performing DJ duties. It is a small world indeed.
I was in dancing mode, with several pints of cider on board, but Mrs H has been under the weather and didn't throw as many shapes as we might have liked. And not even a blast of vintage Abba could get Mr Fangio onto the parquet flooring.
Bob Sinclar's 'Love Generation' saw me in full arm-swinging soft-shoe shuffling mode. Click here for a great tune. Your arms will be swinging too.
Bank Holiday brought a long dog walk and an extraordinary lunch courtesy of Nanna and DIY Dave. Reg and Baxter drove one another to distraction while we dined on Nanna's wonderful cooking.
And so back to work. Happy holidays, and New Year still to come...
Monday, 21 December 2009
Festivities and humbug
IT'S all very festive.
Downstairs Mrs H is slaving away over a hot laptop, doing an assignment of some sort. Younger Daughter is having a nap, having started work at stupid o'clock this morning. All you can see of Reg the Jack Russell is his backside sticking out from under Younger Daughter's blanket. He is not for moving.
Older Daughter is still in Bristol, where it has by all accounts been snowing and looking lovely.
I have taken advantage of the break to wrap some presents. As usual they look as if they have been stuck together by a myopic orang-utan with his digits taped together.
Last night we joined Mrs H's mum and dad at the carol service at their church, and most convivial it was, too.
This is a church built in the middle of a bustling main street, so it always looks busy even when it isn't. It was full last night and the minister was very welcoming, particularly as he only sees us once a year.
On Christmas Eve the vicar down at our nearest church will see us for the one and only time this year, too.
They must get quite peeved at the people who only ever turn up for carols, especially when, like us, they spread their favours from one code to the other willy-nilly.
Anyway, Mrs H's dad, with whom you would be unwise to dispute territory, bagged a table and a large plate of mince pies in the middle of the church hall afterwards for the assembled family members.
It was all extremely friendly and festive.
It was a bit less festive at Oldway Mansion this afternoon where we lost the opening skirmish in the Battle for Paignton Green.
Torbay Council have granted planning permission for a big play park on the Green, which means the 2010 Paignton Regatta could be the last of its kind. If we carry on after that, it will be on a much smaller scale.
More than 160 years of tradition may be lost if the National Lottery now comes up with the cash for the play park.
There was plenty of good debate from both sides, and then the four Tories voted for the play park, and the three non-Tories voted against it.
We could all have saved an hour of our lives if we had only looked at the make-up of the committee in advance. We were done over by the party whip, and it was always going to be so.
Humbug.
Downstairs Mrs H is slaving away over a hot laptop, doing an assignment of some sort. Younger Daughter is having a nap, having started work at stupid o'clock this morning. All you can see of Reg the Jack Russell is his backside sticking out from under Younger Daughter's blanket. He is not for moving.
Older Daughter is still in Bristol, where it has by all accounts been snowing and looking lovely.
I have taken advantage of the break to wrap some presents. As usual they look as if they have been stuck together by a myopic orang-utan with his digits taped together.
Last night we joined Mrs H's mum and dad at the carol service at their church, and most convivial it was, too.
This is a church built in the middle of a bustling main street, so it always looks busy even when it isn't. It was full last night and the minister was very welcoming, particularly as he only sees us once a year.
On Christmas Eve the vicar down at our nearest church will see us for the one and only time this year, too.
They must get quite peeved at the people who only ever turn up for carols, especially when, like us, they spread their favours from one code to the other willy-nilly.
Anyway, Mrs H's dad, with whom you would be unwise to dispute territory, bagged a table and a large plate of mince pies in the middle of the church hall afterwards for the assembled family members.
It was all extremely friendly and festive.
It was a bit less festive at Oldway Mansion this afternoon where we lost the opening skirmish in the Battle for Paignton Green.
Torbay Council have granted planning permission for a big play park on the Green, which means the 2010 Paignton Regatta could be the last of its kind. If we carry on after that, it will be on a much smaller scale.
More than 160 years of tradition may be lost if the National Lottery now comes up with the cash for the play park.
There was plenty of good debate from both sides, and then the four Tories voted for the play park, and the three non-Tories voted against it.
We could all have saved an hour of our lives if we had only looked at the make-up of the committee in advance. We were done over by the party whip, and it was always going to be so.
Humbug.
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Bananaman cometh...
IT was cold down on the prom tonight, where the Tuesday night crew assembled for training.
Alan had planned a pyramid of sprints between the lamp-posts, gradually stretching out to the furthest one and then winding back down again. A couple of minutes rest, then repeat.
It was tough, and cold, but back in the car park our beloved coach appeared with a Santa sack full of goodies. I got a banana.
Now I have hiccups. I never get hiccups.
Maybe I will be one of those people who has hiccups for 30 years. Maybe they will stop in 10 minutes. I will keep you posted.
Meanwhile, I blame Bananaman.
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