By the time I was 18, I’d fallen in love a hundred or so times. One of my victims was a racehorse called Wollow, and like most of my relationships, it was fun while it lasted, but at the end, I felt kinda let down. They later said that a piece of metal, a fastener, had twisted under her saddle. Twisted under her saddle, pierced her flank and distracted her.… READ MORE.... …
Month: August 2004
“Avoid Huddersfield at all costs. I can’t exaggerate how awful it is there at the moment”. No, this advice comes not from me or some other hotel victim, but from the chap who does the traffic on Radio Leeds. His warning, earlier this evening, was referring to the flooding that has closed off half the town. Fortunately I heard the tip before I set off from Leeds, and was able to exploit my local knowledge to good effect.… READ MORE.... …
It wasn’t pretty, but it sort of happened. Woke at 6am and prevaricated for an hour before getting up and out onto the damp streets of Huddersfield. I switched hotel last week, but am now back at the George, no longer believing this to be such a sleaze-hole. Last week’s grim experience at the low end of town, with its throbbing discos and pissed-up, door-banging neighbours and three-in-the-morning fire alarms was instructive.… READ MORE.... …
Time for another false dawn, surely. It must be at least a week since the last time I made a declaration about a new regime that I knew I couldn’t keep. And at least a week since I had a decent run, too. This, yawn, will all change early tomorrow morning, mmmm yeah, when I’ll get out there in the sodden streets of Huddersfield to start off a new era, yeah right, of running and rude good health.… READ MORE.... …
And again, although this time I have more of an excuse. The "again" applies to various things. The end-of-the-week collapse, for instance, though a combination of the start of the football season with its social commitments, and the weekend visit of some friends from Lancashire, are cast iron get-outs. Aren’t they? Then there’s the small matter of yet another abortive long run.… READ MORE.... …
Sisyphus rides again. When it comes to health and wellbeing, I work a kind of shift system. 4 days on, 3 days off. Last Friday, after the previous evening’s life-affirming jog-climb in Wharfedale, the culmination of a week of good, interesting running and textbook nutrition, I was at the top of my game. Yes, I was knackered, but nice-knackered. Post-coital nice-knackered.… READ MORE.... …