January 2017

[Sweder]

Hold the phone, I've mastered this tapering malarkey, chaps.
True to the Good Book, I've throttled right back since my return from the Outer Colonies.
So much so that this morning's dainty wobble across the Downs is my ONLY outing since arriving home on Saturday afternoon.
4.44 humbling kilometres at the gentlest of paces. It was quite lovely, completed just before the nail sank in the cloud and Sussex started to sink. 

As if that wasn't enough, to guarantee a star turn this weekend, I nipped out to GBK last night for a pre-movie burger. In fairness, I did go naked*, so there was some thought given to training. I washed down the wonderful Kiwi Burger with a large glass of Malbec, staying true to Dr Phil even as my arteries audibly clogged. The movie in question was Split, the James McEvoy/ M. Night Shamalangadingdong hide-behind-the-sofa fest. It was enjoyable nonsense with a dash of genuine horror. McEvoy was exceptional, playing all 23 DID personas tucked away inside Kevin, a poor wretch long since hi-jacked by a gang of alter-egos known as the Hoard. Fans of Night won't be surprised to hear that the ending was a bit iffy, not to say confusing.

And so to Southampton on business, thence to meet MLCMMan in Lewes for supper and up at daft O'clock to ferry us and CC5 to Gatwick.
Commence au festival! Safe travels all, see you in Almeria.
*Naked at GBK means without buns. This isn't making things any easier to read, is it?