St Swithin's Day and beyond

[stillwaddler]

Yesterday evening after work I went for a run. I don’t normally run after work, I’m usually either too busy doing other things or just too plain cream crackered, but after a really busy day with no time for the lunchtime run I had planned I thought I had better get out there because my regime of getting out for a short waddle at least three times a week had gone woefully all to cock last week. Expanding the chicken run, watering in the greenhouse on the lottie, dancing the night away in my highest heels during a swing night ( that is “swing” without at the “er” suffix, I took absolutely no notice of the lude and suggestive remarks that my colleagues made when I told them what I was doing that evening) at the most divine Italian restaurant in Manchester (Stock – if any one is interested) sadly, my runs lapsed to just 2 for the week ( well sort of sadly, I was after all having a good time).

Forgive the brackets, I was just having a touch of the Pratchet’s

The run was wet, very wet. 4.7 miles and I can’t remember when I enjoyed a run more. There is something childishly gleeful in getting really soaking wet in minimal clothing and not caring a jot.

The Wet One just tips me over the 500 mile marker for 2010