Quote of the day: “When it’s brown it’s cooked, when it’s black it’s fooked”.
This gem appeared on a TV programme about a failing Yorkshire restaurant this evening, and I feel duty-bound to pass the wisdom on to all chefs in need of a guiding rule.
Back to business. Yesterday’s entry wasn’t intended to be so gloomy, but I’ve had enough encouraging messages today to tell me that it must have come across like that. I was a bit fed up, but was trying to sound determined to get back on track rather than unhappy about being a bit behind.
Anyway, a good 5 miles before breakfast this morning made the world seem a brighter place than it was yesterday. I’ve noticed something interesting. On these sunny spring mornings, when getting out there is no great hardship, the payback doesn’t seem quite as good as when it’s black and freezing. In mid-winter, the post-run buzz lasts nearly all day. On kinder mornings, it’s nowhere near as dramatic. A good thing. You need more reward when it’s tougher.
Today’s post brought a letter from Copenhagen, detailing the arrangements. Unusually, there’s no requirement to pay in advance. I definitely have a place and a number, but I’m to pay when I turn up at the expo. This will be at some place spelt with lots of Øs and Ås.
The other interesting snippet is the discovery that the leader of a pacing group is, apparently, called a fartholder.
I see.
