N-‘s language skills are now at the bants level. “F- keeps pulling my hair, daddy! If he keeps doing that, I’ll have no hair. Like you!”. And (after watching me give some money to a rather dishevelled looking gentleman on the overground) “Is that your Dad?”.
I appreciate the previous paragraph is in the “kids say the funniest things” genre. What can I say? Slow news week.
The Mirror reported “Brit punters will ‘need to drink 124 pints each’ in order to save UK pubs after lockdown”. After rising early on Monday to put on my drinking trousers, a friend pointed out that this figure was based on the additional spending required in the next 12 months. I still had a couple this week, I’m not going to lie.
I’m in week 8 of the couch to 5k plan. I had a good run on Wednesday, felt like I’d set off a bit quick but managed to keep the pace until the end. I haven’t managed to repeat that this week, but as Michael Johnson keeps telling me (through the app, he’s not my mate), it’s about the distance not the speed.
I bought a new pair of shoes (online, natch) a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been limping around waiting for the right one to soften ever since. Yesterday I realised there was a big bit of plastic inside the toe that I hadn’t removed.
Nae Pasaran!, the documentary about Glaswegian Rolls Royce workers who refused to service engines for Pinochet’s jets, is on iplayer for the next 18 days (if the BBC survives that long). It’s great.