Well, I'm still sidelined with this virus. Just when I thought it had gone. A week last Thursday, I got up and thought, "Oh great, seems to be better". Voice back, feeling fine, so I went out on my 16-miler. Felt generally OK, apart from that ever-so-slightly starchy feeling at the bottom of the lungs. My goodness those last few miles were painful, though. Got up on Friday and felt bad again, coughing, blergh, and, having not had any lung related symptoms, feeling tight again. Rubbish!
Went away for the weekend with some of those Mad Asthma people. Spent a lovely time in Matlock and even had a successful stroll over the Heights of Abraham. Went shopping at a local Outlet Village on the Sunday, and discovered that Next can't make their mind up about how they are going to size their jeans.
So this week, I decided to be sensible (don't look so shocked) and not push it, and just try to allow myself to get better. However it hasn't reaped the benefits I was hoping - still coughing, bit tight, not done any running, and with a half-marathon to do tomorrow, I'm starting to doubt the benefits of Allowing Nature To Run Its Course. I have spent the last few days having a slight mental battle as to whether I'm actually going to go and run the half tomorrow, but I think I've come to the conclusion that I will go and have a go - and not be too disappointed if it doesn't all go to plan.
I shall continue to chunter quietly about how I have managed to go the entire winter without getting so much as a sniffle, only to have these little microscopic critters gunk me up six/seven weeks before possibly the most important race of my life. Bah. *chunter chunter chunter*
The SIS drinks and gels seem to be good though, and haven't caused any "gastrointestinal distress" (as they like to put it, bless 'em, they don't like to be crude). Found out that Tescos sell 'em cheaper than their own website, too, so that's a bonus.
Adios. I'll hopefully write in with a race report tomorrow.
Saturday, 14 March 2009
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Postal Purchasing
I love shopping online. Adore it. A larger range of products than you'd ever find in a shopping centre, combined with any necessary advice/reviews from people who've used 'em, and with all the time you like to browse and decide without some pushy or stroppy sales "assistant" breathing down your neck.
My SIS pack arrived yesterday - 2 sachets each of Go Electrolyte, Go PS22 Energy & Rego Recovery drinks, plus a few gels of each flavour to try. I'm always slightly wary about new energy drinks, as many of them contain artifical sweeteners - and these, as we all know, "when consumed in excess, can produce laxative effects". Yeah, that's a brill idea, isn't it. Put something in an energy drink, designed to be used on long runs, that can give you stomach cramps and the trots. Sensible. Anyhow, trying it out beforehand is always a plan, so I've drunk a sachet of the Go Electrolyte drink this evening and haven't suffered any ill-effects. It was vaguely reminiscent of Dioralyte. I'm not sure that's a good thing. However, going on the old adage "if it tastes bad it must be doing you good", then it's probably alright.
I'm not really sure about that adage though - I'm fairly certain cyanide isn't too healthy for you.
Last night, I indulged again by ordering a Camelbak (rucksack thingy which carries water) for my long runs, and a Powerbreathe. I was a bit cynical about Powerbreathe when it came out, thinking it was just other gimmick, but the research seems promising, and, frankly, if it'll offer any further support to my truculent twins (AKA my lungs) - then brilliant, I'll give it a go. If it's naff, well at least it's an avenue explored.
Happily, the URTI seems to be on its way out. I've been more back to my normal self today, and my voice is returning too. Mr Steve seems a little disappointed. ;-)
So, let's all keep fingers crossed for an upturn in the weather over the next few days and a continued improvement in the state of my upper respiratory tract. Hopefully, then, it'll be back to it for me.
I can't finish my blog entry today without saying a big thank you to some special friends who have, tonight, brought my fundraising total above the £700 mark. Thanks, guys - it means a lot.
My SIS pack arrived yesterday - 2 sachets each of Go Electrolyte, Go PS22 Energy & Rego Recovery drinks, plus a few gels of each flavour to try. I'm always slightly wary about new energy drinks, as many of them contain artifical sweeteners - and these, as we all know, "when consumed in excess, can produce laxative effects". Yeah, that's a brill idea, isn't it. Put something in an energy drink, designed to be used on long runs, that can give you stomach cramps and the trots. Sensible. Anyhow, trying it out beforehand is always a plan, so I've drunk a sachet of the Go Electrolyte drink this evening and haven't suffered any ill-effects. It was vaguely reminiscent of Dioralyte. I'm not sure that's a good thing. However, going on the old adage "if it tastes bad it must be doing you good", then it's probably alright.
I'm not really sure about that adage though - I'm fairly certain cyanide isn't too healthy for you.
Last night, I indulged again by ordering a Camelbak (rucksack thingy which carries water) for my long runs, and a Powerbreathe. I was a bit cynical about Powerbreathe when it came out, thinking it was just other gimmick, but the research seems promising, and, frankly, if it'll offer any further support to my truculent twins (AKA my lungs) - then brilliant, I'll give it a go. If it's naff, well at least it's an avenue explored.
Happily, the URTI seems to be on its way out. I've been more back to my normal self today, and my voice is returning too. Mr Steve seems a little disappointed. ;-)
So, let's all keep fingers crossed for an upturn in the weather over the next few days and a continued improvement in the state of my upper respiratory tract. Hopefully, then, it'll be back to it for me.
I can't finish my blog entry today without saying a big thank you to some special friends who have, tonight, brought my fundraising total above the £700 mark. Thanks, guys - it means a lot.
Increasing the population of London in one easy step
London is the most populous city in Europe. There is absolutely no reason to increase the number of people in it at any given time.
Mindful of this, they decide to organise a marathon there every year with 46,500 entrants.
If you were to assume that Dr Cath was an average entrant (something I'd never do, of course) then this would mean an extra 940,000 people descending on the Capital on race day - increasing London's population by 12.5%
That's a lot of people, and it doesn't include all of the support staff, official and other folk who will be required just to run the thing.
It also doesn't take into account the fact that Dr Cath is far from ordinary in one respect - the sheer number of people who will be turning up to support her! There are roughly 20 people expected at the moment, but every time we mention the event to someone new, we get more people threatening to join us.
Supporting Dr Cath should be straightforward, for two reasons. Firstly, Asthma UK have a couple of support stands that we can congregate at - and Asthma UK's "snot green" corporate colour scheme is both blindingly obvious in a crowd and bloomin' vile.
Secondly, a number of our friends are intending to do something that will make them "un-not-spottable" in the crowd. Now, quite what this is I'm not sure, but knowing who they are, I'm both certain it will be stunning and deeply worrying.
Let's just hope the car makes it to London without deep frying its electrics again...
Mindful of this, they decide to organise a marathon there every year with 46,500 entrants.
If you were to assume that Dr Cath was an average entrant (something I'd never do, of course) then this would mean an extra 940,000 people descending on the Capital on race day - increasing London's population by 12.5%
That's a lot of people, and it doesn't include all of the support staff, official and other folk who will be required just to run the thing.
It also doesn't take into account the fact that Dr Cath is far from ordinary in one respect - the sheer number of people who will be turning up to support her! There are roughly 20 people expected at the moment, but every time we mention the event to someone new, we get more people threatening to join us.
Supporting Dr Cath should be straightforward, for two reasons. Firstly, Asthma UK have a couple of support stands that we can congregate at - and Asthma UK's "snot green" corporate colour scheme is both blindingly obvious in a crowd and bloomin' vile.
Secondly, a number of our friends are intending to do something that will make them "un-not-spottable" in the crowd. Now, quite what this is I'm not sure, but knowing who they are, I'm both certain it will be stunning and deeply worrying.
Let's just hope the car makes it to London without deep frying its electrics again...
Monday, 2 March 2009
Physician, Heal Thyself
Blast, blast and triple blast. I have an URTI.
Have done really, really well and lasted the entire winter without coming down with any Lurgy (but being very careful in touching wood and not crowing too much about the fact), eight weeks before the London Marathon, I've got the grot.
It's not too bad, but it seems to have targetted my larynx, so it's been quite quiet over the last couple of days for me as the only way I can speak is in a low-volume husky croak. The main beneficiaries have been my husband (no nagging), receptionists at work (no gossiping) and, vicariously, some of my patients (highly amused that doctors get colds too).
I am keeping fingers crossed that it stays at larynx level, and doesn't feel any inclination to head further south. I need to get well and back to the training ASAP - I'm supposed to be running 16 miles this Thursday.
In other news, having been unable to run, I have geekily been statistically analysing my runs over the last two months. In February, despite having a week off for snow, I ran 50 miles and was on my feet for a total of 10 hours. That is quite depressing...
Have done really, really well and lasted the entire winter without coming down with any Lurgy (but being very careful in touching wood and not crowing too much about the fact), eight weeks before the London Marathon, I've got the grot.
It's not too bad, but it seems to have targetted my larynx, so it's been quite quiet over the last couple of days for me as the only way I can speak is in a low-volume husky croak. The main beneficiaries have been my husband (no nagging), receptionists at work (no gossiping) and, vicariously, some of my patients (highly amused that doctors get colds too).
I am keeping fingers crossed that it stays at larynx level, and doesn't feel any inclination to head further south. I need to get well and back to the training ASAP - I'm supposed to be running 16 miles this Thursday.
In other news, having been unable to run, I have geekily been statistically analysing my runs over the last two months. In February, despite having a week off for snow, I ran 50 miles and was on my feet for a total of 10 hours. That is quite depressing...
Friday, 27 February 2009
Love Hearts Can Be Surprisingly Accurate
When you're running Awfully Long Distances, you can't just run and run and run. You need fuel. Over the last few months I've experimented with a few different things, based on ideas from the RW fora and magazines. When I started out doing what are now shorter distances - 6 miles or so - I'd rely on just a carb drink (Lucozade Sport) to get me through. When I started to extend the distances, I tried Jelly Babies. This resulted in me returning home one afternoon to quote the immortal line, "There's a Cry-Baby Boobles at the top of the by-pass". There was. Really. I dropped it on my way down and only noticed when I stumbled past it again on my way back. Some small rodent must have thought it was Christmas come early.
Jelly Babies require some chewing though, and need a fair slug of liquid to rinse your mouth out. I tried Love Hearts initially a few weeks ago, then last week I thought I'd give a go with these fancy energy gels. I bought one - a Lucozade Sport, orange flavour - a few weeks back, and decided it was time to try it.
What I discovered was that they'd omitted to add two words to the flavour description, and in fact it should have read "Orange Wallpaper Paste Flavour". I had to expend more energy getting it out of the tube-packet than I actually gleaned from consuming it (I have to say "consumed" because the texture of the gel precludes using the words "eating" or "drinking"). The initial flavour was OK, but once it had started to go down - EURRRGH. Quick, pass the drink. It was, as we say in the Black Country, extremely "clarty" in the mouth, and really did seem as though I'd accidentally swallowed a small quantity of Solvite.
So, this week, I've ordered some gels from SIS (Science in Sport), which were top-rated by RW, being far more palatable and less pastey than other gels. In the meantime, though, it was back to the Love Hearts.
So, 14 miles yesterday. I started getting depressed by the prospect when trying to plot a route on G-Maps Pedometer and realised that I could run to Stourbridge Ring-Road and back and still not have covered the distance. And the prospect of running through Lye really wasn't appealing. Twenty-odd curry houses is great when you've had a few beers on a Friday night, but when you're stone-cold sober on a Thursday afternoon and you've still got to run back to Halesowen, it's a bit tough. So I decided to run up to Romsley instead.
It was certainly picturesque. The error I made, though, was forgetting exactly how much uphill is involved in getting from Halesowen to Romsley. About 2-3 miles, is how much. Mind you, it was very picturesque when I got up there - it was a perfect afternoon for it, the sun was out, and the Clent Hills always look great - even in the rain. And, following the inescapable laws of gravity, I got to run down it again the other side.
After that, it was the inescapable loop down the by-pass and back. By the time I was getting towards the top of the Hagley Mile - about 11 miles by this point - everything below my waist had started to dissolve into a kind of numb pain. By which I mean I was fully aware of the fact that things were painful, but I had started to lose appreciation of exactly how much. To give you an idea, after my run last week, I was getting in the bath when I clonked my left kneecap against the side of the bath. Usually this would be enough to at least make me turn the air blue and hop around a bit (this all relates to going ar*e over t*t in Portugal whilst running a couple of years ago, and landing directly on my left knee cap). I barely noticed it, but the bruising was very evident over the next few days.
Anyway, so I'm trudging on, some kind of bloody-mindedness causing me to put one foot in front of the other. It is almost overpoweringly tempting to stop at the Badger's Sett for a pint of lemonade, barring the fact that I have no money. But I carry on, and decide it's time for another Love Heart (I have been steadily letting them dissolve in my mouth over the past six miles, like a kind of glucose drip-feed). For some reason, I decide to read this one. I think I was getting a little desperate for distraction.
"CRAZY"
Nuff said.
Jelly Babies require some chewing though, and need a fair slug of liquid to rinse your mouth out. I tried Love Hearts initially a few weeks ago, then last week I thought I'd give a go with these fancy energy gels. I bought one - a Lucozade Sport, orange flavour - a few weeks back, and decided it was time to try it.
What I discovered was that they'd omitted to add two words to the flavour description, and in fact it should have read "Orange Wallpaper Paste Flavour". I had to expend more energy getting it out of the tube-packet than I actually gleaned from consuming it (I have to say "consumed" because the texture of the gel precludes using the words "eating" or "drinking"). The initial flavour was OK, but once it had started to go down - EURRRGH. Quick, pass the drink. It was, as we say in the Black Country, extremely "clarty" in the mouth, and really did seem as though I'd accidentally swallowed a small quantity of Solvite.
So, this week, I've ordered some gels from SIS (Science in Sport), which were top-rated by RW, being far more palatable and less pastey than other gels. In the meantime, though, it was back to the Love Hearts.
So, 14 miles yesterday. I started getting depressed by the prospect when trying to plot a route on G-Maps Pedometer and realised that I could run to Stourbridge Ring-Road and back and still not have covered the distance. And the prospect of running through Lye really wasn't appealing. Twenty-odd curry houses is great when you've had a few beers on a Friday night, but when you're stone-cold sober on a Thursday afternoon and you've still got to run back to Halesowen, it's a bit tough. So I decided to run up to Romsley instead.
It was certainly picturesque. The error I made, though, was forgetting exactly how much uphill is involved in getting from Halesowen to Romsley. About 2-3 miles, is how much. Mind you, it was very picturesque when I got up there - it was a perfect afternoon for it, the sun was out, and the Clent Hills always look great - even in the rain. And, following the inescapable laws of gravity, I got to run down it again the other side.
After that, it was the inescapable loop down the by-pass and back. By the time I was getting towards the top of the Hagley Mile - about 11 miles by this point - everything below my waist had started to dissolve into a kind of numb pain. By which I mean I was fully aware of the fact that things were painful, but I had started to lose appreciation of exactly how much. To give you an idea, after my run last week, I was getting in the bath when I clonked my left kneecap against the side of the bath. Usually this would be enough to at least make me turn the air blue and hop around a bit (this all relates to going ar*e over t*t in Portugal whilst running a couple of years ago, and landing directly on my left knee cap). I barely noticed it, but the bruising was very evident over the next few days.
Anyway, so I'm trudging on, some kind of bloody-mindedness causing me to put one foot in front of the other. It is almost overpoweringly tempting to stop at the Badger's Sett for a pint of lemonade, barring the fact that I have no money. But I carry on, and decide it's time for another Love Heart (I have been steadily letting them dissolve in my mouth over the past six miles, like a kind of glucose drip-feed). For some reason, I decide to read this one. I think I was getting a little desperate for distraction.
"CRAZY"
Nuff said.
Black Snot and Endorphins (Week 7)
So, I had a busy busy week last week. So much so that I didn't have time to blog. Golly, I'm awful at this whole blogging regularly thing.
We spent the weekend in London, it being mine & Mr Steve's birthdays (me on the 15th, him on the 20th). The journey down was....interesting (Carry On Driving-style, you can read all about it elsewhere), but we made it to the theatre on time to see "Oliver!", which was superb.
On the Saturday we met up with Adopted Daughters 1&2, went to the Science Museum, and had a meal together. Adopted Daughter No. 1 bought me a rather splendid running-themed book, "Running on Empty", by a bloke who used to write for Runner's World. It gives a great humourous look into the world of running, and he doesn't take himself too seriously, which makes it an engaging read (particularly for others like myself, who don't take running *too* seriously!). Of course, I should also mention Adopted Daughter No 2's present, for want of making her feel left out. Not strictly running-related, it was a splendid pair of cow-slippers. Marvellous.
Anyway, why am I waffling on about London? Ever since my second foray to the capital (my first was with my parents in my early teens, when we drove through it but didn't stop) I've come to the conclusion that it has to be one of the worst places to even think of running, or indeed doing any kind of exercise. At the end of the day, you go to your place of abode, you blow your nose and you get...Black Snot. Now, praise the Lord and give thanks for your nasal cilia, is all I can say. Those tiny hairs, beavering away to stop all this particulate rubbish from getting any further. But you can't help wondering about all the bits that they don't catch. All that lovely airbourne carbon and other diesel stuff that might make its way down to your bronchial tubes....mmmmm, splendid. Who on earth came up with the bright idea to stage Britain's flagship marathon in what is the lung-equivalent of a sewage swamp?
Mind you, according to RW magazine's feature this month, Birmingham isn't much better. "...the city is almost the most polluted in term of asthma-causing PM10 diesel particles". Note the "almost", please. When, as someone with an irritating lung condition who normally lives in a relatively clean-air area, you take a foray into a city centre, you certainly notice the difference.
In the world of respiratory medicine, a recently emerging concept is that of "One Airway, One Disease". Put basically, if inflammation is present in one part of the respiratory tract (which extends right from those lovely nasal cilia to the base of your alveoli in the lungs), then that can also mean inflammation in another. Relate this back to the splendid Black Snot, and you can see that this might result in a few problems.
So anyway, back to the actual running. This week it was 12 miles - the second-longest distance I've ever run. I gave into my insanity and ran down, and subsequently back up, the Hagley Mile. Disappointingly, I confirmed what I had previously suspected - the current entity known as the Hagley Mile isn't actually a mile. It's 0.7 miles. And when you're running back up it, it's 0.7 miles of not-so-sophisticated torture. Mind you, I didn't do too badly, considering the weekend dose of Black Snot. And the fact that I'd already run up Portsdown Road (incidentally, I realised I hadn't properly purged my MP3 player at the point, whilst turning puce and gasping, it started playing "Take My Breath Away". Not funny. Stop laughing). Got round the lot in 2hrs 10, not bad considering it was at "LSR" pace and the two hills.
Running a long distance does slightly funny things to your psyche. Getting through the first 30 mins is a challenge - it's a bit like making a truculent toddler do something it doesn't want to do. Namely, it spends a while throwing a strop, then settles down and grudgingly complies. Then, a few miles later, you get insidious thoughts leaking into your mind. "This is daft, I'll never make it. Stop it." If you manage to circumnavigate those, you're rewarded by a little boost a while later with a rush of those friendly endorphins, who envelope you in a lovely warming glow. "Well done," they seem to say. "You've made it this far. You can do it, just keep going." Then those 'orrible thoughts break through again (usually co-inciding with a hill, or similar), and we're back on the roller-coaster again. Given the fact that you're already running, going on a roller-coaster is just a bit rude. It just shows that sometimes, running is as much a mental battle as a physical one.
We spent the weekend in London, it being mine & Mr Steve's birthdays (me on the 15th, him on the 20th). The journey down was....interesting (Carry On Driving-style, you can read all about it elsewhere), but we made it to the theatre on time to see "Oliver!", which was superb.
On the Saturday we met up with Adopted Daughters 1&2, went to the Science Museum, and had a meal together. Adopted Daughter No. 1 bought me a rather splendid running-themed book, "Running on Empty", by a bloke who used to write for Runner's World. It gives a great humourous look into the world of running, and he doesn't take himself too seriously, which makes it an engaging read (particularly for others like myself, who don't take running *too* seriously!). Of course, I should also mention Adopted Daughter No 2's present, for want of making her feel left out. Not strictly running-related, it was a splendid pair of cow-slippers. Marvellous.
Anyway, why am I waffling on about London? Ever since my second foray to the capital (my first was with my parents in my early teens, when we drove through it but didn't stop) I've come to the conclusion that it has to be one of the worst places to even think of running, or indeed doing any kind of exercise. At the end of the day, you go to your place of abode, you blow your nose and you get...Black Snot. Now, praise the Lord and give thanks for your nasal cilia, is all I can say. Those tiny hairs, beavering away to stop all this particulate rubbish from getting any further. But you can't help wondering about all the bits that they don't catch. All that lovely airbourne carbon and other diesel stuff that might make its way down to your bronchial tubes....mmmmm, splendid. Who on earth came up with the bright idea to stage Britain's flagship marathon in what is the lung-equivalent of a sewage swamp?
Mind you, according to RW magazine's feature this month, Birmingham isn't much better. "...the city is almost the most polluted in term of asthma-causing PM10 diesel particles". Note the "almost", please. When, as someone with an irritating lung condition who normally lives in a relatively clean-air area, you take a foray into a city centre, you certainly notice the difference.
In the world of respiratory medicine, a recently emerging concept is that of "One Airway, One Disease". Put basically, if inflammation is present in one part of the respiratory tract (which extends right from those lovely nasal cilia to the base of your alveoli in the lungs), then that can also mean inflammation in another. Relate this back to the splendid Black Snot, and you can see that this might result in a few problems.
So anyway, back to the actual running. This week it was 12 miles - the second-longest distance I've ever run. I gave into my insanity and ran down, and subsequently back up, the Hagley Mile. Disappointingly, I confirmed what I had previously suspected - the current entity known as the Hagley Mile isn't actually a mile. It's 0.7 miles. And when you're running back up it, it's 0.7 miles of not-so-sophisticated torture. Mind you, I didn't do too badly, considering the weekend dose of Black Snot. And the fact that I'd already run up Portsdown Road (incidentally, I realised I hadn't properly purged my MP3 player at the point, whilst turning puce and gasping, it started playing "Take My Breath Away". Not funny. Stop laughing). Got round the lot in 2hrs 10, not bad considering it was at "LSR" pace and the two hills.
Running a long distance does slightly funny things to your psyche. Getting through the first 30 mins is a challenge - it's a bit like making a truculent toddler do something it doesn't want to do. Namely, it spends a while throwing a strop, then settles down and grudgingly complies. Then, a few miles later, you get insidious thoughts leaking into your mind. "This is daft, I'll never make it. Stop it." If you manage to circumnavigate those, you're rewarded by a little boost a while later with a rush of those friendly endorphins, who envelope you in a lovely warming glow. "Well done," they seem to say. "You've made it this far. You can do it, just keep going." Then those 'orrible thoughts break through again (usually co-inciding with a hill, or similar), and we're back on the roller-coaster again. Given the fact that you're already running, going on a roller-coaster is just a bit rude. It just shows that sometimes, running is as much a mental battle as a physical one.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Neglect - On So Many Levels
I'm sorry, I really am. I've been a thoroughly rubbish blogger over the past week or so. Sorry. Etc.
Well, snow, eh?! What about that, then. Well, I'll tell you what - it's brought my training to a halt, that's what. I did consider going out for a run - for all of about ten seconds. Then my "sensible" gland kicked in and told me "Don't be stupid, that would be foolish, you'll fall over and break/twist/rupture something". Thankfully, for once, I listened to my sensible gland. Frankly, it seems to be becoming somewhat over-developed nowadays.
So, whilst watching the snow fall and the pavements ice up, I have been consoling myself with the thought that it doesn't really matter how long it takes me to get around London, as long as I get round. And slipping over on black ice would seriously jeapordise that.
Fundraising - we're now up over the £400 mark, thanks to my incredibly daft but lovely husband. Thank you all!
In other news, I have my running jacket now. I still hadn't heard anything six days after placing the order (estimated shipping time - 2-3 days), and neither had any money left my bank account, so I dropped them a little email enquiring as to my jacket's whereabouts.
Roughly 30 minutes later, I received the following response:
Hmm, anyone else thinking that's an "Oooops, we forgot that one"-kind-of-email?!
Anyway, it duely arrived the next morning. Opened it and proudly brandished it to show Mr Steve.
"Hmmm...," quoth he. "That's......bright".
Somewhere, I think he's missed the point a bit...
(Attractive photo of me wearing the new bright jacket with my suit. Do you think it's a fashion that'll catch on?!)
Well, snow, eh?! What about that, then. Well, I'll tell you what - it's brought my training to a halt, that's what. I did consider going out for a run - for all of about ten seconds. Then my "sensible" gland kicked in and told me "Don't be stupid, that would be foolish, you'll fall over and break/twist/rupture something". Thankfully, for once, I listened to my sensible gland. Frankly, it seems to be becoming somewhat over-developed nowadays.
So, whilst watching the snow fall and the pavements ice up, I have been consoling myself with the thought that it doesn't really matter how long it takes me to get around London, as long as I get round. And slipping over on black ice would seriously jeapordise that.
Fundraising - we're now up over the £400 mark, thanks to my incredibly daft but lovely husband. Thank you all!
In other news, I have my running jacket now. I still hadn't heard anything six days after placing the order (estimated shipping time - 2-3 days), and neither had any money left my bank account, so I dropped them a little email enquiring as to my jacket's whereabouts.
Roughly 30 minutes later, I received the following response:
Hmm, anyone else thinking that's an "Oooops, we forgot that one"-kind-of-email?!
Anyway, it duely arrived the next morning. Opened it and proudly brandished it to show Mr Steve.
"Hmmm...," quoth he. "That's......bright".
Somewhere, I think he's missed the point a bit...
(Attractive photo of me wearing the new bright jacket with my suit. Do you think it's a fashion that'll catch on?!)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)