January 2009

[Sweder]

A real shocker of a run this morning. I'd set out intent on knocking out a quickie, partly to test my knee but mostly to enjoy the benefits of resting up for most of last week and missing what must've been a brutal session with the JSJers yesterday. Ten minutes in I knew the gig was up; warm, sweaty, a real slug-fest . . . it was horrible, horrible . . . a slow, ugly flounder in near-perfect conditions. I could spit. I'll go out again on Wednesday of course. Who knows? Perhaps this was one of those lethargic meanders that pop up occasionally to keep us honest . . . or maybe Time the Avenger has seen enough hubris in these hallowed halls to administer a timely kicking. All in all it was an effort so lame as to make Andy Murray's inglorious exit this morning look positively game.

I won't get too down-hearted. And the knee's fine, which is a relief. Of more immediate concern is trouble brewing for No.1 Daughter. Teenage years are without doubt the toughest and she's going through the mill. Friendship squalls, a pre-Christmas cold that won't quit, falling out with teachers, raging hormones, monstrous mood-swings, all against the backdrop of managing her diabetes. It's looking bleak for Mrs S coming to Almeria - we'll both be mortified if she can't go as it's our one chance this year for some time without our beloved children. We've had offers of help from friends and relatives but if the girl need her Mum there's nothing for it but to bite the bullet.