I’m taking no chances. After yesterday’s plod around the block, the remote calf twinge of the previous evening had shuffled a little closer. Not quite a wave at me, but definitely a sort of waggle of the little finger. So tonight I cancelled my run and went for a walk instead. To the pub. I needed a break. It’s been a tough week.
Yesterday morning I discovered by chance that a stretch of the Central Line will be closed at the weekend, including White City. This is the station next to the meeting point for the coaches to Silverstone on Sunday, and would have been the means of travel for nearly all of the 80 or so people coming with us.
Oh god. Mad panic.
Except it wasn’t really. No panic at all. Just an hour or two of option-weighing before arriving at the idea of Marble Arch, via the help of a phone call from Switzerland. It was young Swiss Bobby, with whom I once had a bitter dispute about bananas on the RW forum. Good suggestion, mate.
Anyway, it’s been a slightly fraught week. But nothing that a few pots of decent ale and a Champions League match can’t sort out.
Tomorrow I’ll run.
