Anarchy?

The day starts much the same as yesterday: - longish lie in with sex and coffee etc. All good stuff. Followed by a walk on the park with Doggo and today L joins us.

When we get back, I have the 80's session I promised myself after we saw Starter for 10 the other day. Tears For Fears, Human League, OMD, that sort of thing.

Finally got around to putting my new bike pedals onto my bike. This is not as easy as it sounds and I have to consult the internet for instructions. Then once I get the hang of it. I'm on a role so I put my old pedals onto the turbo trainer. All I need to do now is to find the guts to get out on my bike and try out my new pedals.

As it's New Years Eve we take my parents out for a Chinese in Beeston. They love it. The meal is only average but for £12 per head for three courses, it's good value. There's so much food we couldn't eat it all, not even with our gannets, Son and Daughter, there. We share a bottle of red between four of us and I have a Singapore Tiger beer.

We get home and spend the traditional New Year with Jools Holland. On paper his lie-up looks poor but in the end it makes for a really good show. Ade Edmonson does Anarchy In The UK. It is excellent but we annoy Daughter by the playing her the original.

We demolish another half bottle of dessert white as we see in the new year and then start on a cheaper dryer one from Virgin Wines. We take Advocaat to bed.

57 units for the week. Horrendous. Three days of AF due now until Thursday. Blessed relief.

Facing The Rolling Pin

Short and sweet entry today because it's a pretty normal Saturday.

A nice longish lie in with good sex, orange juice, coffee and a dog on my feet. All pretty typical Saturday stuff.

Then I walk said dog on the park.

Then off to the match. Derby are incredibly lucky as they beat Plymouth 1-0 to stay third. Still not impressed.

I have a good Fantasy Day for once.

Then we have a night out in Nottingham. Down the Poacher for the first time in ages - Elsie Mo 4.7% and 2 x Good King Senseless 5.2% then a half of Marleys Ghost at 7.0% in Langtrys. Then we hit Scruffys on the way home for a couple of Leffe Brune's.

Then we stagger home to face the rolling pin from Daughter, who has told us not to get wasted.

More Eighties Nostalgia

We did our early morning swim again; Pool was packed again. L again did 30, think I was down around 22 today.

Afterwards L, who has obviously been too busy clocking other people rather than concentrating on the swimming, asks if I noticed how few people use their legs when they swim because apparently, today, absolutely no one was kicking. She says one particular old man never moved a leg muscle and another was actually walking up and down the pool. She says I wouldn't have noticed any of this because I don't have my head under water much. Hmmm I think that was a thinly disguised dig at my technique.

Of course I always check out people’s legs underwater, well the nice female ones anyway but it was all a bit wrinkly today so didn’t dare look most of the time, except at L's shapely pins of course.

AND I did notice the old chap, wasn't too sure he was alive, I though perhaps he was just floating lifelessly on the top of the water, like an expired fish. Then again no one dived into help him, which isn't good news. L assures me that she would notice if I stopped floundering.

Went home to rouse Son but he was just leaving for his paper round as I got there. Impressive.

I'm at work. L is at home. She drops me a email to tell me that the government's own figures say that women who do housework for exercise are less at risk of breast cancer than those who do sport for exercise. She hopes that this might create more room in the swimming pools for us.

How do the government come up with such silly things, housework isn’t exercise, although I suppose those semi-conscious people this morning might have got more out of a good hoovering session than they did out of their swim.

She also tells me that, apparently, Doggo is lying down by the front door waiting for me to come home. She often says this. Hmmm. Yes collies are supposed to be loyal dogs but I do doubt the loyalty of my own faithful beast. When he's lying by the front door, he's also technically very close to the bedroom door. So I'm sure L's confusing his 'waiting for me to come home' with 'waiting for someone to open the bedroom door'. He does love his bed, I mean OUR bed.

L's mother is in hospital having her replacement hip joint re-aligned, they expect her to be in for 4-5 days. L plans to visit today but then hears her Mum has already gone home. So it's true. The NHS really is working miracles these days.

Get home and get a nice welcome. We get 'romantic' on the bed. Wa-Hey. My girl has wonderful hands.

Later L, Daughter and myself go off to the cinema to see Starter For 10. Daughter comes reluctantly. She does everything reluctantly even if she really really wants to do something. Must be a teenage thing but makes it very difficult to discover what she does actually want to do.

Starter for 10 is set in 1985/86 and is about a lad's first year at University. He also wants to become a contestant on 'University Challenge', hence the title. Although dramatised up, it was still very true to life at uni in the 80's for anyone who was there e.g. Me. The eighties detail is excellent and the soundtrack is brilliant. Superb stuff from Tears For Fears and The Cure among others. The film is very very funny although the ending is far too mushy. Funny films shouldn't have romantic endings. I suggest an attempted suicide as a better ending with our hero surviving, just, and his girl mopping the blood off him again but L shouts me down. We break a rule of mine by walking out on an excellent song as the credits rolled, my second favourite Cure song, Pictures Of you.

We complete a very 80's day as I watch the first part of Swap Shop again with L before a touch more 'romance' in the bedroom.

A rare AF day.

Nostalgia

We get up at the usual time and take advantage of the council's utmost kindness in opening a swimming pool, on what is actually a normal working day. Pool was packed, standing room only, they really need to get more pools open. L does 30 lengths I think I do 24. Then I'm off to home to holler at Son to get up for his papers and then on to work. L walks Doggo.

Get to work and have a one sided email chat with her. I'm receiving her emails but she's not getting mine and I have to reply by text. Technology eh!

Last time I was at work it was Thursday and pub day. By some sheer coincidence it's Thursday again and so we're off to the pub again. A giant Yorkshire and beef stew goes down well, as does the pint of Resurrection, it's Xmas so we have another half.

Get home and L and Daughter take the car to go off to badminton. Then they get home and I go off in the car to my ritual mauling at squash. All these trips are to the same leisure centre as it's the only one open.

The council were reluctant to open the leisure centre in the evenings over Xmas because no one ever shows up, well tonight the squash courts are busy and they have to keep turning people away from the fitness suite because customers had assumed that the advertised 9pm closing time meant that all the facilities were open until 9pm. Don't be silly the fitness suite closes at 8pm.

Squash starts well and we have a close first game, although I lose 15-11. Things go downhill from there as my opponent gets his serve into a rhythm and soon I am four games down. Then he loses his rhythm and I seize my chance and win the next two. It ends 5-2 which is about usual.

I have a low-alcohol Lees mild at the pub 3.5%, almost AF.

Get home and actually watch some TV! The last half hour of Dracula and 30 years of Multicoloured Swap Shop, ahhh the nostalgia of it all.

Christmas Walk

I have a day off work today but we have to get up to do Son's papers for him. Well L does, Doggo and I follow on to try and help but by the time we find her the job is done. Then we head into Derby to collect the kids and on to another tradition, the village walk at Aston. We do the 'long' walk which is 4.1 miles. Son and Daughter both do it, a seasonal concession from them as they never usually walk and no, thumb screws were not required. Daughter only asks 'how much further' about ten times, which is good, and doesn't storm off at all, a rare treat indeed. Even Doggo behaves himself and fails to upset any other dogs. We do however, have to keep a reasonable distance between him and my Brother, who have had a bit of dislike of each other since my Brother upset him when he was a pup. Bingo numbers are placed along the route and you have to mark off number on a bingo card. A full house wins you a prize. As is the tradition everyone wins except me, Daughter wins a hangman game but only because someone else has beaten her to the last of the chocolate prizes, Son wins ermmm, the last of the chocolate prizes.

We pop to the pub for a pint of Jennings Cumberland, which is shadow of its former self, thanks for that W&D Breweries and a two-course meal for £4.95. It's only a child portion but what do you expect for a fiver.

L has to be at work for 3.00, so I rush her off there and then take the kids home.

Later I nip into town to get my friend a birthday card; he inconsiderately has a birthday on the 29th December, which means it's a nightmare to get a card to him. The shop has to dig deep in its stock room to find any cards that are suitable as all the shelves are still full of Xmas cards. Shops note, birthdays do not have a Xmas break. I even get time to browse round my former favourite shop, Selectadisc. It is pleasing to see that 20 years on since I first visited it is still the best record shop on the planet.

At 6.15 I meet L out of work and we pop to the Ropewalk for a quick Leffe. Four Leffe's later we stagger up the road, to home and turkey sandwiches.

In The Hands Of My Masseur

Tempted to break my abstinence but L won't hear of it. Sex is officially prohibited until tonight. Hope she can cope with what she might unleash.

We get up and drive the kids over to their father's and then head to the Furnace for the Boxing Day run, that they hold there. Doggo is going to be allowed to run in this one, attached to me and boy is he excited. He loves a good running race but he is rarely allowed to compete himself, so today is a big Christmas treat for him.

We line up at the back of the field so that Doggo doesn't leg any runners down and cause a pile up. I have to physically hold him back, he is so hyped up. With hindsight simply being at the back wasn't enough, we needed to be in the next street.

Eventually I let him start and we rocket off the start line, I think we pass 50 people within the first 20 metres. We get the usual comments that I am cheating, being dog assisted and for the first two miles it is true, Doggo hardly stops to breathe. This is probably because he can't breathe, he is pulling that hard he practically choking himself. I have to hold him back for fear that he'll wear me out. When finally he starts to wane he tries to have a sneaky rest by peeing up a litter bin but I'm having none of that. The course is three miles and as we approach the finish we are still passing other runners and moving up the field. As we approach the line, Doggo decides he needs a drink from one of the puddles, or is he just trying to grab a few seconds rest. No way. The line is in sight and someone is stood there waving a box of chocolate liquors in the air, presumably a spot prize. Just as the chocolates come into touching range they are snatched away by the chap in front of us. We finish 46th the spot prize goes to 45th, now if Doggo hadn't tried to stop for that drink they'd have been ours. The chap who is now clutching the chocolates turns to us and says how relived he was that we didn't pass him, he heard us panting behind him (hopefully that was Doggo and not me) and half expected us to come past. He doesn't offer us a chocolate. Happy Christmas mate.

L comes in a 100 or so places behind us, raving about the view (as usual) and how many dogs she's seen on the course. Both me and Doggo shrug. Dogs? What dogs? View? What view?

After lots of hugging and kissing by strange women I don't know. Christmas does odd things to people. It's not something that I would usually complain about but my legs feel like jelly and I just want to sit down. At least Doggo looks worse than me.

I take L home and then go watch Derby play Wolves. The two teams provide better entertainment, an end-to-end match, than we've seen for a while, it's almost not boring. However, I suppose the teams performance isn't as good (or rather as clinical) as usual and we lose 2-0.

Get a text from L offering hot oils for my aching thighs. Wa-Hey. Thought I was supposed to be seducing her tonight. Eat your heart out John Malkovich (see Xmas Eve).

Rush my parents round to my Brothers and briefly pop in to say hi. Then off home to seduce L.

Have promised L romance, so I crank up the heating (far too hot), move the table into the lounge, and light the candles. I do a simple Mexican chilli sort of thing but with rib eye steak cut into chunks and char grilled on a kebab. I serve it with tortillas, rice and salsa. It seems to go down rather well, as do the several glasses of wine I ply her with. All the time Doggo keeps a worried eye on proceeds from his favourite corner of the lounge, not really trusting the darkened room and the candlelight.

All in all the seduction seems to work as L changes into her masseur's outfit of vest and knickers. She fetches the massage oils and selects the criminally underused 'time for passion'. Then my thighs and calves get a good pasting, easing away the aches and the stiffness from the morning run. However the undoubted skills of my masseur just seem to drive the problem elsewhere and she eventually has to turn her attention to another area that is eagerly clamouring to be taken notice of. I must say that it is an honour and a pleasure to be in the hands of such a talented and gorgeous masseur. So much so that I feel that I have little option than to thank her in the traditional way and take advantage of her under the Xmas Tree lights.

Seduction complete, I take my girl and an advocaat to bed.

Happy Alcoholic Christmas

Christmas Day. My favourite Christmas present is already unwrapped beside me and although time is short, you can't start the big day without sex.

Doggo is the loser and only gets half an hour on the park, L walks across to meet us. When we get back to the house my Mum and Dad are just arriving, they're early. Daughter is up and raring to go but no sign of Son, still in bed. Eventually we get him up and into the bath, where he languishes for another half an hour or so. Unable to do any unwrapping until he emerges we do what anyone would do in the same situation, we hit the eggnog. Not good news for my parents, who are cholesterolly challenged, but this is likely to be one of only many sins they commit today.

Son emerges looking surprisingly lively and we start exchanging presents. L and I swap boots! Daughter gets her long longed for Ipod and Son a new TV, should have been a computer, and will be at some point but for now it's still 'in the post'.

We hit the pub for the traditional Christmas Day beer. I have Sooty Stout and Legend, both brewed on site by the Nottingham Brewery. Local ales! Take note Greene King.

We go home for food, our two alcoholic pate and some excellent vegetable soup that L has cooked up. Then we have Turkey which is excellent too, along with some sweetish white wines (Alsace) that we got the other day from Majestic. They too are very good. Then its Christmas pud covered in more alcohol, in the form of rum sauce!

We manage to avoid the appalling stuff on TV for most of the day apart from Doctor Who that Daughter insists we watch. It is not one of their better efforts.

My parents depart around 8pm and we take some more white wine to bed, where very quickly we proceed to sleep it all off. We are possibly too drunk and too knackered for sex but we decide on abstinence anyway. We have the house too ourselves tomorrow night and I'm planning a romantic night in.

The Most Romantic Film Ever

Brief lie in, quick sex, then a run with L and Doggo, around 3.5 miles in 40 dog minutes.

We go off to pick up the bird for Xmas Day for our local farm shop and then nip to Sainsbury's because we haven't got enough plates to feed six people off. Amazingly for Xmas Eve we get served straight away.

I make two pates. One chicken liver and brandy, the other Port and Stilton. Not good for the alcohol units. I also make my stuffing and the 'pigs in blankets' ready for Xmas Day. Then we start on the eggnog. Also not good for the alcohol units!

We walk Doggo down to our local, which is uncharacteristically full, so we walk back. Daughter has taken possession of the lounge and the TV as usual, so we borrow her TV and DVD player and retire to our bedroom to watch a DVD of one of the most 'romantic' films ever made, Dangerous Liaisons, which surprisingly L has never seen. It is one of my all time favourite films, such a good and magnificently evil plot. John Malkovich is so demoniacally good in it.

We snuggled up romantically with three bottles of Pelforth each and Doggo and immersed ourselves in the power games, the deceit, the malice, the desire, the control, the power, the lust, and a naked teenage Uma Thurman. Wonderful stuff.

Then when Daughter's inquisitiveness get the batter of her she joins us too. Briefly. Until she gets chucked out when John Malkovich sets about talking Uma out of her virginity.

The film ends and L agrees it's a good film. Then just as I'm about to do a Malcovich and perhaps "teach her some Latin", Daughter reappears. The girl has immaculate timing.

In the end we let the kids stay up until midnight to see in Christmas Day and then I proceed in trying to 'romance' L into a post midnight watershed shag.

It's difficult to tell for sure but I reckon around 41 units for the week, oh dear.

Romance Isn't Dead

Dogging in Grantham today but thanks to the dodgy postal service, I do not have my schedule yet. Normally I leave for these things at around 7am but it's Xmas, so Doggo and me opt for a late start. Enough time for a bit of indulgence with L before we head off around 8.30. Forgot to get any sausages as treats for Doggo, so he's on the cheese today instead.

We get there just in time to do our first run, something called Unders & Overs. In all we do four courses, nothing spectacular, as my main aim is to make sure I reinforce all the stuff we've been doing in training rather than go for speed. Not that Doggo does speed anyhow; well not unless there's a Weimaraner in close proximity. We have three clears and I thought it was four. As we crossed the line, I looked back at the judge for the customary clap of hands for a clear round but no he was walking back up the course to replace a pole that someone had dislodged. I don't remember us doing that. I look at Doggo, who seems to shrug his shoulders and roll his eyes upwards "Wasn't me Guv, Where's me cheese?"

Derby get a bore draw, 0-0 at Burnley.

It's quite a short day for a dog show and I get home for just after 4.00. Make myself busy making eggnog laced with rum and brandy, to oil the wheels of our Xmas festivities.

In the evening I treat L to romantic meal for two at Scruffys. Where we have Leffe Brune, a bottle of Faustino Crianza and their special liquor coffee (which was good but not really that special). Oh yes we have food too, L has tortillas with chilli and I have Moroccan Lamb. We stagger home and take a port to bed. I expected L to be knackered but she 'slips into something more comfortable', black French knickers. Naturally with provocation like that she going to get fucked. Who says romance is dead.

Deep Water, Deep Sleep

Day off work today but no lie in for us fitness freaks, we are up at more or less the usual time and running round the pond and park with Doggo. Three miles or so in a leisurely fashion, thanks to a dog who's more stop than go. Then we head off to the pool for 30 minutes there. I flounder my way to 20 lengths; L does more than that naturally. Apparently an early morning workout is good for your libido. So we head off home, hopefully back to bed and to test out that theory.

Life is never that simple. All of this running, swimming and hopefully shagging is to the worrying backdrop of the thought that the man from Whirlpool could turn up at any minute to fix our freezer. We get home and we haven't missed him, so, so far so good. I ring Whirlpool who assures us we have a morning appointment.

Another complication in the cunning plan is that the kids are off Christmas shopping with their father at 9am but he is naturally as late as late as ever. At 9.30 he rings to say he's on his way. Kids eventually leave, only one hour late.

No sign of Whirlpool, so, with one eye on the road outside for the expected white van, we leap (well kind of) back into bed and indulge in a spot of frantic, against the clock, sex. L doesn't work well under pressure. Normally in these kind of situations, if ever there's an interruption, poor old L ends up being frustrated but today she plays a blinder and we finish with seconds to spare before a van pulls up outside. I hurriedly get dressed to let Whirlpool in while L is still recovering in the bedroom.

Whirlpool man diagnoses the problem in about 5 seconds, our three-week-old freezer needs a new compressor, sounds like he's on the ball, so should be a quick job. Afraid not, he doesn't install compressors, we need another man for that! Could be after Christmas we're told. However a few phone calls later, another man is on his way down from Mansfield to sort us out.

Thirty minutes later, the man arrives and sets about replacing our dodgy Brazilian (no not that kind) compressor with a better Italian one. L hides Doggo in the back room in case he turns ferocious. He has a random dislike of some people; how he differentiates we can't quite work out. The man finishes the job and Doggo decides he loves him after all and both quickly become good friends.

We head into to town to get L's Xmas present, boots this time. Unlike our last shopping trip it is over in minutes as L is more decisive about her boots. We ponder on dress shopping and although it is a spectator sport that I quite enjoy, well the stripping off bit anyway, we decide things will most probably be cheaper in the sales. Something to look forward to. I have now being shopping more times with L in the last week than in the previous 10 years.

We head to the Bell to celebrate and have possibly our last ever H&H Rocking Rudolph.

Later that night we go see the film Deep Water and have a Hopback beer in the bar first. The beer is decidedly dodgy and I have to finish L's half.

The film is about Donald Crowhurst bizarre participation in the 1969 competition to sail around the world solo without stopping. The film includes 16mm footage shot at the time. Almost immediately his boat started leaking. It would have been suicidal for him to continue but returning home meant humiliation and financial ruin, so he faked his journey but then topped himself anyway.

The film is good but either doesn't hold L's attention or the combination of our hectic day has done her in because despite numerous digs in the ribs from me, she sleeps through most of it. I fill her in with all the details afterwards, so that if anyone asks she can sound knowledgeable about it.

Later than evening L seems slightly more awake so we head down the Plough for a couple of Sooty Stouts. Then have a glass of wine back at home.

My Girl's Life Of Crime

On the bus again today, it was very late but there was no traffic so I was still on time for work.

I discover that I am sharing my life with a criminal. L informs me that she has been shopping in M&S on her boss's credit card. , She didn't actually go as far as forging his signature because the card wasn't signed. Isn't that alone illegal? Instead he had given her his pin code. Luckily the shop assistant appeared to be a bit dim, certainly too dim to rumble her. She tried to charge her £175 for 6 x £60 gift vouchers. I'm sure even Daughter, who's not known for her mathematical prowess, would have got closer than that.

L says she had a speech worked out in her head ready for the Police. Perhaps tonight I'll put her in handcuffs and find out just what she was going to say to the police. Personally if I was the arresting police officer I would let her use whatever bribery and corruption she thought was appropriate.

L seems to think that her possession of a D cup chest would have been enough to convince me. Admittedly that would have been a good start but I would have held out for more.

Pub lunch Cottage pie and Cottage Xmas Ale 4.5%. Very nice.

Our friends the gypsies are currently camped out at JJB Soccerdome, just down the road. I don't think they're actually on the football pitches, at least not yet. Apparently a court order has been served to evict them from tomorrow evening so to prevent a repeat of last week's incident they are putting a fence across the road to seal off our offices from Friday afternoon until Tuesday morning. Wonder where they'll surface next, keep a close eye on your back garden.

Apparently I'm on a promise for rampant sex tonight. Hope L's cold has cleared up; don't want her to suffocate while she's dishing out her bribery and corruption! All I've got to do is survive squash and the Victoria first.

I do survive squash, just. I go down 6-1, winning only the second game. Newby Wyke ale 3/9% in the pub afterwards and then a not very nice Bateman's 5% ale at home. That's a shame because we have a crate of 12 to get through.

Undercooked Goose

Came on the bus today. Took a gamble and caught a later bus, banking on the traffic not being so bad now that's it's nearly Xmas. When I try and plug myself into my Ipod I realise that the screen is broken. Disaster. Think I broke it when I had too much jammed into my pack on the bike yesterday and it was among all my other stuff. A new screen is going to cost me £49 about half the price of a new Ipod.

Glad I left home before Daughter got up. When I called up to her as I left, she didn’t sound at her best after her late night on the town.

Very foggy. L says she struggled to keep her eye on the dog this morning, despite the fact that he is equipped with a flashing light on his back. She could have lost him, which is something she says she's been trying to do for some considerable time. Could probably do with some more lights on him.

On the way home the 5.35 bus is busy because as usual it arrives before the 5.20 which is always late. So I don't get a seat to myself. A girl sits next to me plugged into her music, it's the Killers, yes it's that loud I can hear every note. Well at least she's got taste. After about ten attempts selecting music on my Ipod, because my damaged screen makes it difficult to read the menus, I settle on Forward Russia to drown her out. The girl, well she's early thirties, is now busy texting. I nosily steal a glance or two at her screen. I'm sure at one point she's texts 'b home in 20 on knees in 25'. Sounds like someone's in for a bit of a 'welcome home'.

We are going to the theatre tonight, a nice romantic play called the 'Golden Goose'. Yes it's a Christmas 'special' put on by Daughter's Guides group at the local church hall. I drop her off there for final rehearsal then take Doggo for a wander round the pond, then I shove him in the car and meet L at Guides.

The play, as expected, is shockingly awful. Apathetic and mostly inaudible acting by most of the all female cast. It makes you wonder why they've bothered. Glenda the Goose is good though, as are a few others, Daughter included. She at least puts feeling into the two lines she gets to deliver; perhaps all the drama classes etc have taught her something after all. We get cake (very small) and coffee (very anaemic) included for our £1 entry fee. We smuggle a slice of Xmas cake out for Doggo, no icing obviously.

Afterwards we do a Xmas food shop at Sainsbury's and bring home one of their curry meals for four, only £10.99. It is actually very good, although very microwave intensive, we are 'binging' away for ages. The meal easily feeds four of us with the addition of only Naan bread. Although Son only picks out the best bits of his curry, not that he doesn't like it or isn't hungry, it's just that his computer game is waiting and eating is not a good use of his time.

Girls On The Pull

Came on bike today, was slow though, my hamstring hurts. I think I aggravated it with the double sports session last night.

Apparently MY dog chased a deer on the park this morning and I wasn't even there. Then apparently as an encore he decided to see off two poor unfortunate men who were attempting to leave their own garden. He soon put a stop to that. I'm sure MY dog wouldn’t do that sort of thing.

L worries about the minefield at her work: - mince pies, biscuits, chocolate fingers. It's not stopped her though, she's on the cream scones, and that's ahead of our cholesterol feast at a French restaurant tonight. Mind you I’ve had two mince pies as a protein recovery after my biking.

Got stitched up in the fantasy league this week by some rule that says I must have 3 defenders on the pitch, so I end up playing with only 9 players again and Faye’s 4 points count for nothing.

We also now have something else to worry about - The Fantasy Cup. I’ve been drawn against FC Crazy, should be a push over. Every week is a cup round, now for the next 20 weeks, until the end of the season as they whittle the one million plus teams down to one winner on a knockout basis. Beats the hell out of that champions' league rubbish.

Biked home and the visibility was fading fast as the fog came down. I was about to overtake this chap: - bobble hat, white beard, one of those yellow workmen's' jacket, trousers tucked in socks. Although he'd got a good racing bike, I reckoned I could have him. Then he turned off just before I could pass him. I'm reliably informed that this is a standard tactic for avoiding a race you think you can't win. So got to feel quite pleased with myself.

Get home and only really have time to swab some of the sweat off me because we need to get the bus over to Derby. L puts together a fantastic all black look: - black underwear, black vest, black tights, and black boots. Well racy. It's the kind of look you don't really want to let escape from the bedroom but bugger, that's not the finished article and she puts a dress over the top of it all. To be fair, it's a very sexy and colourful dress, and she still looks fabulous.

Daughter is also well tarted up; the two of them look like they're off clubbing and on the pull, a mother and daughter pulling team. Perhaps they're going out without me but no it's night out as planned with L's family. L's sister is over visiting from Singapore. Son has been into town, he has all his presents bought and wrapped in time. I'm impressed.

The buses are that infrequent that we have to get one that's going to get us into Derby far too early but it doesn't help when I get the times wrong. When we arrive in Derby they won't let us wait in the restaurant, we are a whopping 45 mins early. Britain is such a child friendly country that no pubs will take the kids and all the café's are shut, so we end up in the upmarket surroundings of Subway, where we have a practically undrinkable coffee.

Eventually we are able to get into the restaurant and a very pleasant evening ensues. L reckons that Daughter and her sister are very alike, which in a way they are. I enquire if her sister is as good at slamming doors as Daughter is. This sets Daughter off on a charm offensive trying to convince every one she is 'cuddly', her words, and not a serial 'door slammer'. Even Son is chatty. L behaves herself and slags no one off, as she is sometimes prone to do, despite the fact that we have copious quantities of red wine.

I reckon L and her sister are also very alike; tonight they even wear the same style of dress. They are also both apparently touchy about their chests or just perhaps all women are. Tonight's L's is well pumped up and looks well desirable. Luckily she is sat next to me and not across from me or else I may not have been able to pay attention to anyone else all night. All the women look great; it is an honour to be with such attractive company.

On the way home the Red Arrow sees us coming and wheel spins away from the bus stop before we can get on. They are so good at this; they must teach the drivers this skill before they give them a licence.

So we get the slow bus back, which is supposed to take an hour but the driver does it in 45 minutes. Nothing wrong with that from our point of view but you wonder how many people missed the bus because it was so far ahead of schedule.

As we saunter home from the bus stop Daughters sugar levels run out just before we get home, this is despite a sizeable top up with sticky toffee pudding in the restaurant, although to be fair, it's late and she's tired. She trips over and throws her boots away, walking home barefoot.

Get home and Doggo is pleased to see us; he's had a crap night. Never mind mate, Christmas will be so hectic you'll soon be ready for a night in on your own to recover.

Intimidation

Drive in this morning, not bad – 40 minutes, people must be off starting their Xmas shopping.

The cricket is over.

My mate survived his brush with the red wine on Saturday night, normally guarantees him a hangover apparently but this time he comes through it relatively unscathed. Must just be Mild that he has no tolerance for then.

It may have been a good drive in this morning but in the evening getting off Pride Park takes forever.

I drive over to Beeston to meet L. Who has arranged to pick up a Xmas present for Son from there.

We have no dog training tonight; we are on a Xmas break, so I take Doggo for a run round the pond. L joins us. Once we've done that, we go swimming. We go for a normal session rather than our usual 'Adults Only' because it starts and finishes earlier. I half expect the session to be full of kids but it isn't, there are only two in there, two overweight boys dive-bombing each other. They also have two lanes set out at one end. I daringly go in one lane; L goes in the other. At first there is just one chap in my lane but then another joins. They are both doing very professional looking front crawl and are a lot faster than I am. At first I try and stay ahead of them but when one almost swims over the top of me and the other, coming towards me, seems to almost swim under me, I admit defeat and am intimidated out of the lanes. Thoroughly put in my place I rejoin the main pool. Soon though L has her lane to herself and I join her there, not that L herself isn't intimidating, because she is, but the pace will be more gentle.

No sooner had I managed to put in a few lengths of dodgy front crawl that another psycho arrives, a big muscled bald headed chap with a girl in tow. I see him eyeing up our lane and get ready to bale out but luckily he goes in the lane next to ours. The girl doesn't go in the lanes, she obviously knows what’s coming and is too intimated to share a lane with him. She turns out to be a very competent front crawler and easily does a length faster than me. The psycho though is in a totally different league entirely. He starts doing very fast front crawl using only his arms; he has a float between his thighs (this is some psycho technique for strengthening your arms that L told me about but that I don't fully understand). He does three lengths in the time it takes me to do one. He's even doing kick turns still with the float between his thighs. He might as well be in my lane as the aftershock from the waves he's making with his kick turns can be felt in my lane, the waves are almost high enough to surf on. The girl is impressed; I think he's pulled tonight.

We get home and L does her trademark beans dish, this time with posh M&S Chorizo and Stilton! It is fantastic.

It's been all go tonight and after a bit of Xmas present wrapping L turns in, the double sports session has done her in. It's also done me, in that in my hamstring throb is back. It keeps me awake, although I often experience sleepless nights, usually one a week but since I've been biking I've been so knackered that I thought they'd become a thing of the past.

Bad Dream

Had a bit of an erotic bad dream overnight. Can't quite remember the details now, I never do with dreams, but it was quite a turn on at the time. The dream ended when Nicky Campbell woke me up, as usual, with his banal chat on the radio. Perhaps I should have tried to relay the details to L before I jumped her but I didn't. It wasn't until I gathered she wasn't terribly impressed that I realised that Nicky Campbell doesn't actually work Sundays and also that it was actually only around 2am, not the morning after all. Oops. I quickly finished and skulked back to my side of the bed. Possibly not the best way to start a relationship with a new girlfriend.

We get up to cover Son's paper round and then take Doggo for a run round the park and the pond, having decided to duck out of the orienteering events that are on today. Surprisingly no one compliments me on the new woman in my life. Well I'm impressed, so chores done, I take her home and back to bed.

Our brand new, three week old freezer packs up, just after we've filled it with fresh meat. Bugger.

We go to Majestic to stock up on Xmas wines.

4.30 we collect the kids from Derby and go round to my brothers for an hour to exchange presents. A necessary deed but it is difficult to talk when he has two young children demanding attention. Another job done we head for home and I cook Lasagne with Stilton.

In the evening we watch a DVD - Everything. Ray Winstone plays the lead and for a change doesn't play a thug. He plays a man who visits a prostitute (Jan Graveson) but does not want the obvious. Each day he returns to talk but always refuses any sexual favours. Instead he wants to befriend her and understand her life. Jan Graveson has a face of stone, the body of an athlete and some mind-boggling underwear.

Watching it was almost like going to the theatre, as almost all the action takes place in one room and focuses on the two main characters without much going on elsewhere. In fact it would make a very good play. It’s a dark and deep film, which needs thought but is compelling. It is well made with top drawer acting and kept us intrigued throughout. I loved it and even liked the alternative ending.

L and I like a film that is thought provoking so that we can have a good discussion about it afterwards. There wasn't much to say about 'Everything'. In the end it was all pretty straightforward and didn’t need any deconstructing but it was still a good film.

31 Units for the week, not bad but could do better.

'New' Girlfriend

Wake up and we have the planned lie in. L is wearing the vest and knickers she went to bed in. As I said yesterday this is tempting fate; a red rag to a bull. It's great when a girl wears something sexy to bed; just as long as it there to be removed!

The cricket is just too horrible to mention.

I take Doggo on the park and then we do a meat shop from our local farm shop. After which I go see another workmanlike but dull Derby victory, 1-0 over Crystal Palace. Lupoli the talented young Italian we have on loan from Arsenal bamboozles the Palace defence, sets up the goal but then, job done, gets taken off as we sit on the 1-0 lead. Am I the only one who doesn't like these dull, flair less victories. Winning ugly they call it. Most of the crowd seem to be asleep in the second half.

The most exciting thing that happens after we have scored the winner is when L's texts me. She says its mission accomplished off, that's code for - she's finally got a push-up bra. Hurrah! The really really stunning news is that it's a 38D. Wow! I have a new women in my life, the 36C girl who I woke up with this morning is history, sorry love, consider yourself dumped, I have moved on to bigger and better things.

Unfortunately when I get home we are too pushed for time for me to get properly acquainted with my new fuller chested girl, as we are due round at the house of some friends that evening for Chilli and wine.

Just as we are leaving I get an emergency text for drill bits and cumin. I'm loathed to lend him anything, I'll probably not see the drill bits again, last time I lent him anything it took me 10 years to get it back and then it was damaged. He claims he's a reformed character.

We meet Son at the bus stop, but we weren't supposed to, he should have been on the bus an hour earlier. Being a teenager, naturally he didn't come out in a coat, despite the fact that it's a mere 3 degrees Celsius. He is that frozen we practically have to chip the ice off him. L puts him on the next bus to Derby, even though it'll take an hour, just to get him in the warm.

We get to our friend's place, the Leeds supporter. He had offered to put on a film on his big screen for us but as he hasn't got a copy of ‘Leeds United the Season so Far’ ha ha I decline.

Luckily he has no home brew on at the moment. L is relieved; she reckons that the only time she gets a hangover is when she’s been on his home brewed beer. I also forget that they don't drink red wine, so it's a good job that we've brought a bottle of our own. Unfortunately as it's only one bottle, my plan to stay on red wine all night falls apart, instead I mix red with white and two bottles of Pelforth. The chilli is excellent.

We catch a late bus home and I take a 38 inch chest to bed for the first time. Unfortunately we are slightly inebriated, tired, and full of chilli, so frustratingly I have still not totally got to grips with my new women.

The Road To Home Is Paved With Troublesome Interventions

As expected England can't take advantage of a useful position and concede a first innings lead of 29 to Australia. Think that's about that then, the Aussies never get bowled out cheaply twice in a row.

A pre-Juggernaut intimate holding session then onto my bike, au-natural again. As I struggle with my toe clips at a set of traffic lights, I get overtaken by a chap on a straight handle bar commuter bike. I track him for the next few miles. I catch him easily on the hills but he pulls away from me on the downs. I don't know why. I don't try and go past him, as I don't want it turning into a race and him coming flying past me. Tussles with fellow cyclists apart, it is also windy again and I seem to be cycling into a perpetual head wind, consequently I record a slow time, slower than Wednesday even.

Once at work I find that our unwanted guests have been moved on, although not very far, they’ve just moved across Pride Park to another car park!

My squash opponent is complaining of a hangover, for God's sake we were only drinking mild, 3.7% mild at that. He'll have to stick to the orange juice. It's his age you know.

L was brave with her morning run; she went round the pond. Can be a bit quite round there and a bit creepy but suppose she was trying to avoid the park benches. The collie should protect her but when he's got his nose in something good I'm not sure he'd notice if someone grabbed her. They don't help out on the paper round today because Son is in no hurry, he doesn't have to be in school until noon.

Activity outside my office window. We’re being fenced in, it’s like they’re putting the Berlin Wall up! It really reinforces the fact that it is a bit like being in a prison camp out here. Assume it’s to stop the Gypsies coming back but can’t see how it’s going to work; people are going to have to get in and out to park. Perhaps we’re getting watchtowers and armed guards as well.

Later on, I go downstairs and the whole office is going da da da da da, you know Chelsea Daggering. The track of the year apparently? I tip them off about the Sunshine Underground and my album of the year 'Raise The Alarm'. Their office now rocks to a rather tinny version (dodgy laptop speakers) of 'Commercial Breakdown'. Feel I've done my bit for society today.

Nightmare biking home. The wind doesn't seem to be as favourable to me as it was on Wednesday and it joins forces with various other incidents to slow me down. First I catch another, different person on a straight handle bar commuter bike. Seems to be a lot of them about today. The person has long blonde hair and a shapely rear. Female? It looks likely but I'm taking nothing for granted, you can never be too sure. They've not got a great bike and have a huge pack on their back which must be slowing them down but they are wearing almost full Lycra cycling kit including overshoes, although a crap helmet. Big decision time, the last thing I want to do is go blasting past only for them to up the ante and coming speeding past me on the climb out of Borrowash, leaving me a wasted, heaving wreck, in the gutter somewhere. Particularly if it’s a girl! However 'she' is so slow, doing around 10kph, that I have to go for it. I get out the saddle and overtake. I hope it's not a trap. When I reach the next roundabout I look back and it looks as if I have opened a safe gap. When I next look back, 10 very fast miles later, there is no sign of them, Phew! Good job because now I'm knackered.

One ordeal over but another manifests itself. As I do the nice downhill bit into Risley the car in front of me slows down and puts its hazards on. It cruises down the hill at just the wrong speed, slow enough to hold me up but fast enough to prevent me over taking it. Totally ruins my descent. Finally it grinds to a halt when the roads next goes uphill, presumably stranded. Suppose I should stop to offer assistance but no chance.

Then finally more hassle going up the cycle path to the Balloon Wood junction. This big, dare I say fat, guy on at mountain bike is weaving from side to side in an alarming fashion, blocking the entire cycle path. Its annoying because it's the only bit of cycle path on my entire route that's worth using. It is slightly uphill but it's really not that bad. When I shout to him 'Excuse Me' his wobbling just gets worse, so I bump down the curb and go onto the road to get past him, better to voluntarily take the road than be shunted onto it.

As I strip off my sweaty cycle shorts L is, regrettably, again not there to witness it, her and Daughter have gone to the 5.00 showing of Chicago. At 7.30 Doggo and I drive into town to pick them up.

Once home we get ready to take Doggo for a walk... to the pub. Unfortunately by now it is raining so we decide to skip it. Son's TV has just gone bang so he has taken up resident in the lounge with Zelda and his Gamecube. Amazingly Daughter has let him, she doesn't normally concede possession of the TV so easily, and she disappears upstairs. Not sure that particular truce will last the weekend. So L and I retire to the bedroom with a bottle of red and the dog. Perhaps I should get Son to occupy the lounge more often as I manage to get L sloshed, seduce her and jump her, twice. Then she goes to sleep wearing her sexy vest and knickers, now that is tempting fate.

Park Benches

Wake up to find out that Panesar has been picked and takes 5 wickets. England dismiss Australia for 244. Unfortunately they now have to bat out 14 overs or so, they'll probably be 50-3 by the close.

Take the car to work; as it is my turn to drive to the pub. The drive in is not too bad, well not until I got to Pride 'Car' Park anyway.

Encampment still here. So no overnight siege then. Day Four.

L's run with Doggo was disrupted when one of the park benches turned into a deer with antlers. Perhaps I should explain, from a distance, in the early morning or late evening gloom, when they are lying down; the deer do really look a bit like park benches. Honest. I hadn’t seen any deer for ages, assumed they’d shot them all but perhaps they’ve all just been posing as park benches, crafty animals.

England finish on 51-2, better than expected.

Pub lunch. Cottage pie and Oatmeal Stout from a new brewery whose name I can't remember. Our MD joins us, drives there, and pays for the car park next to the pub, which as impoverished employees we can't afford. We don't even get offered a lift.

L and Daughter are going into Derby tonight, Xmas shopping. So am I as it happens but I'll probably be in and out before they arrive. Just planning a smash and grab raid on HMV. I’ll have the Leffe ready for her when she's gets home about 10pm, it’s bound to be hell out there.

After my brief foray shopping I get home and have another 'chat' with Son about his exams. He actually mentions that 'history was quite hard'. Does that mean he's failed?

Squash. I win the first game which is possibly the worst thing I could do as he trounces me in the next one. I should have won the third but lose 15-13, I do win the fifth game and should have won the sixth. Finishes 5-2.

We got to the pub and have Damson Porter and a very nice 3.7% Mild.

Get home and L is on the wine. They've had a successful shopping trip I think, well Daughter has anyway.

Certainly No 'shambles

On the bike today, it is bloody windy though and although I feel it is a good ride, the time is slow, 59 minutes.

Day three of the Gypsy encampment. L warns me to keep a good watch on my bike, which is parked outside, so that it doesn't disappear.

L has had to lug a load of files into work, she reckons she must have at least burnt off a Pelforth and a slab of cake. Sounds like she's planning ahead to me.

In the paper today that men live longer on four beers a day, up to ten years longer than tea totallers apparently. Read into that what you will. I've made my own assumptions.

We have a helicopter circling overhead. A rumour goes round that there are police cars parked down the road. The talk is, unlikely though is sounds, that the Gypsy encampment is about to be stormed. Hmmm. Nothing happens.

She tells me she's been naughty during her lunch hour. She went into town for a push-up bra but bought some boots instead. They were calling out to her apparently. I will look forward to the fashion show later.

For the first time I ride home au-natural under my cycling shorts, the way cyclists are supposed to. It does actually feel better and is supposed to lesson the feeling of saddle soreness, which it does. Call me weird if you like but it is also quite a turn on. I have the urge to shout out to all the women at the bus stops that I'm naked under my shorts but don't want to upset any Grannies who might be there. It’s still windy on my way home and although I had expected the wind to have shifted direction, just to spite me, this doesn't appear to be the case. Apart from odd hairy moment when I catch a side wind, it's a blast and I set a wind assisted PB of 52.19.

Get home and have a detailed discussion with Son about how his exams are going, apparently they are going 'ok'.

L get's home and I do get my fashion show. Her new boots look great with her jeans. I tell her I'd need to see them with one of her new skirts before I can fully make a decision. Also hope she'll be popping back into town for that push-up bra sometime. The boots would go well with that, black I think, to match the boots and with matching French knickers.

L takes Daughter to Guides and then goes for an intimidating swim, lots of speed freaks in the lanes tonight.

Have a good hour of football with Doggo in the garden, no training tonight as I'm to see Babyshambles tonight. L texts to say that she hope Pete turns up. So do I.

I get picked up for the gig and we go for a beer prior to the gig. Which saves us paying £4 a pint at the venue. We have Deuchars IPA. We get to the gig and catch the end of the Holloways, who are quite good.

There's quite an atmosphere, which is something you don't get much at gigs these days. Are they looking forward to seeing the band or have they just come to see if he shows up. Well, not only does Pete turn up this time but he's also bang on time. 9.30 on the dot and the band are on stage. He gets a big cheer when he announces that for the first time ever they have turned up for every night of a tour. He is also on form and is excellent entertainment.

In contrast to the 'Dirty Pretty Things' gig the other week when everyone was five foot tall at most, tonight everyone is six foot six, including most of the women. It is a lively gig, again almost a throw back to the old days. These days crowd reaction seems to be a thing of the past. Tonight there's also a striking reduction in the number of camera phones being used.

Opening with stuff off the new EP and then mixing loads of new tracks with stuff from 'Albion' and Libertines classics such as storming versions of 'Up The Bracket' and 'What Katie Did'. If Carl is appealing to the Mizz crowd then Pete seems to have hung on to the Libertines hardcore. The crowd sing most of 'Can't Stand Me Now', particularly the parts that Carl would have sang. There seems some irony in this.

'Killamangiro' almost causes a riot, then after a Nottinghamised version of Albion, they close with 'Fuck Forever' having played for an hour and twenty. A good innings by today's standards. There's no encore, no 'Loyalty Song', no '32nd Of December'. Is this their choice or the Rock City 11pm curfew. Can image if Rock City told them they'd only got time for one more song, he'd problem tell them to stuff it.

Get home and L is on the wine. She is fuming, Daughter is 40 minutes late leaving Guides. Although we were expecting them to be out late as they were supposed to be on an extended rehearsal session for next weeks Xmas play. That is until Daughter texted to say they were finishing early! She's not popular; L says she's banning Guides as of tonight!

We take a glass of port to bed. L seems a little put out that I didn't jump her this morning, as I usually do before I dice with the juggernauts. Too late now though it's gone midnight, past the watershed. L puts the light out and I just hold her for a while. Then before I know it I'm being taken advantage of. Wa-hey.

'Holding'

On bus today. Tuesday is normally a bike day but I'm off for a few post-work beers with some old school friends. So not wise to bike home after that. Will delay the biking until Wednesday.

Regrettably this means an early start and I'm not even sure L is conscious of me kissing and fondling her back before I get up and head for the shower.

Don’t know if it's anything to do with the fact that I complained to the bus company about the pile of change I got off the driver last week but today's driver has a whole wodge of £5 notes. It's a good job too because the two people in front of me both paid with a £10 note. Today I'm a good boy because I have the correct money.

Gypsy encampment still here. I assume they have to get a court order before they can shift our unwanted guests. They’ll be here all week I imagine. Their presence is causing chaos; all the cars that can’t get in the car park are parking on the pavements up and down the street.

L tells me she forgot her towel when she went swimming this morning. She didn't reckon that she looked terribly cool with her running shirt wrapped around her head, trying to drip-dry her body in the changing rooms. She may not have looked terribly cool but I'd still have liked to have been there, bet she looked great. Wonder if she'll act it out again for me tonight.

L confirms that it was indeed a Swedish group who supported Kylie Minogue at the NEC, they were called "The Melody Club". To our knowledge they have never appeared at Rock City, so that was purely a red herring.

Straight from work I meet two friends from my school days for a beer or two. I have something dark from Everards and a Brunswick brewed Triple Hop but very nice. Then two of us go for a curry and a pint of Cobra. I have a curry with pickle in it which is very nice, the Keema Naan is disappointing though, a bit thin and lacking in meat.

I catch the 8.50 bus home. My friend who is on his bike is going in one to a bike club meet at another pub, he's already had three pints, and he'll be rocking on his way home.

Get home to find that my Winnie The Pooh nose clips have arrived. They are not quite what I was expecting, they are notelets not nose clips, unfortunately still not terribly useful.

L has a glass of wine but I abstain, I have had three pints after all, on a AF Tuesday. L asks what gossip I have to report from my two friends. The answer of course is none, we don't do gossip, much more important things to discuss, like erm... well I can't remember now but it was important at the time. I also get ticked off over the sexual content of my blog.

We retire to bed and well all I'm allowed to say is that we had a very enjoyable time 'holding' each other.

Treats

Take the car into work today and the drive is horrible, everywhere flooded, took 65 minutes.

Get to work and things suddenly get infinitely more exciting. A group of gypsies have taken up encampment across the road in one of the car parks. I don’t think the businesses that they are blocking are very impressed.

Apparently the paper round was a bit of a nightmare, the heavens opened, even the dog hid from it and everyone got mushy papers. All three of them were drenched by the time they got home. L got changed, Doggo will have dried himself off on the bedclothes but Son probably just went off to school as he was, dry clothes are so last year. Hope it doesn't put him off his exams; he is sitting his mock GCSE's all this week. Maths, Chemistry and RE today. He's also this morning requested if L can get him a protractor, which seems a bit late in the day.

L has mistakenly got changed into my Ron Hills rather than her own. She reckons they don't look as good on her as they do on me. Even so I will enjoy wearing them ever more than usual now.

L has a treat waiting for her at work; two people have managed to get hold of previously illusive lemon squeezers for her. So now we have three! We'll have to start our own market stall.

Go to Sainsbury’s at lunch, where there is total chaos. They are offering free samples of Croft Original and the huge queue of Grannies waiting for a taste was blocking the doors to the store, and nobody can get in or out. I would have joined the queue myself but I had neither the time nor the alcohol units to spare.

L is already feeling those back at work, post trip away, Monday morning blues and she requests if we can diarise a lie-in for Saturday. Wa-Hey. No problem.

Drive home, pick up Doggo and whisk him off to dog training, our last session before Xmas. No table training tonight because the table is being used to lay out all our treats. These are not dog treats: - contents of two selection boxes, huge tin of celebrations, sausage rolls, Pringles etc etc, these are owner treats! Although Doggo would disagree, particularly over the sausage rolls but no one is feeding their dogs any, only themselves, so Doggo gets none. Sorry mate.

Training goes well and at the end the trainer presents an award, a nice silver shield, to her handler of the year. Naturally we are gutted not to get it. Well I am anyway; Doggo is too busy peeing up one of the hurdles to notice. We have probably been overlooked for the award because we have only been training there for four months; we haven't won Olympia; three Kennel Club Championship events and multiple other advanced classes. The person, who has, gets the shield, hope they pull their socks up, they'll have to do better than that if they going to stop us taking it off them next year. Ain't that right Doggo? But Doggo is digging a hole in the sand, when he's finished it, he's so impressed with it, he wee's in it. Perhaps I'm being over optimistic.

I listen to an important game on the radio on the drive home, what is this important game, a world cup qualifier, a title decider, a cup semi-final, err no it's Aston Villa v Sheffield United but it's important fantasy league wise.

I'm actually quite pleased with my squad so far this weekend. Doubt I’ll pull any points back but I think at least a corner has been turned. Just need a Dutchman called Bouma to play for the Villa tonight to make sure that Fulham's Pearce stays on my bench, as he scored an impressive -1 at the weekend. At half time it was 1-0 and Bouma was on for 6 points but it finished 2-2 and he gets 1 point but it's better than -1. Unfortunately I didn’t count on Petrov actually turning up and having a good game for once, which benefits my opponent.

Get home to L, who's knocked up a rather nice Thai dish. AF for a change.

Running In the Rain

We wake up and indulge in more surreptitious misdemeanours, again trying not to disturb Daughter, who will not now be plugged into my ipod as she has finished off the battery. The rain is pounding against the window and the skylights, which adds to the romance of it. Oh to be in the tent in weather as good as this. Again L does a good job of staying silent and this time it's my turn to be on top doing the romantic cuddling.

We had planned to do a run, so run we do, despite the torrential rain. Well L, Doggo and I do. We do maybe 2.5 miles, less than we intended but it is chucking it down. We get several 'you must be stark raving mad' looks from the occupants of the many Chelsea tractors that pass us. We get back and after a hot shower, breakfast is again provided for us.

We have a lazy day, only really going out to the local shop, where L manages to find something that no shop in Nottingham has so far been able to provide, a lemon squeezer.

Later we drive home and listen to the Sport Personality farce on the radio. For some reason Radio 5 think it would be interesting to commentate on the show rather than just relay a sound only version by radio. They could not have been more wrong. Although apparently the TV version is awful too, the BBC again having cut back on the sports content of the programme. Nicole Cooke who L and I both vote for is interviewed by someone who knows nothing about cycling and unless I missed it no footage of her achievements are shown. Despite this she is in the final 5 but fails to make the top 3. To be fair coverage of the other contenders appears to be equally poor.

We fetch a take away curry for all of us, Doggo included, he does love a kit of Keema Naan. My Jalfrezi is good and hot; Son has the same but picks the chilli out of his, the wimp. L's Balti is good too.

We then take a couple of glasses of red wine to bed and I persuade L to let me do a bit of pruning of the Brazilian. It was getting to be a case of being unable to see the wood for the trees. Once done, I even get chance to take it for a quick spin.

34 units for the week. Not good but not bad for a weekend away.

Walking, Strops, Cuddling And A Blow Dry

Wake up in the Lakeland cottage. We are staying in a cottage that sleeps 5, in which there are 6 of us plus Doggo. Son sleeps in a sleeping bag on the settee close to the TV and the computer games. This is where he'll stay for the duration of the weekend. Daughter sleeps in a room off our bedroom, which makes acrobatic sex sessions difficult to get away with. This of course doesn't mean we're abstaining for the weekend.

I hope that there is still some power left in my ipod and that Daughter is currently plugged into it. Just in case that is not the situation next door L tries to keep as quiet as possible, burying her head in the pillow whenever necessary.

Having got away with that she get bolder, risking a major bollocking from Daughter if she get's caught without her head on the pillow. In the end it isn't until she is sat astride me that Daughter appears from her room. L casually but unconvincingly, at least to me anyhow, turns the position into a romantic cuddle.

Daughter, looking a tad suspicious, disappears downstairs to the toilet. While she is gone L bursts into action and completes her task quick enough so that by the time Daughter reappears she is once more sat 'innocently' astride cuddling me. I though am perhaps more dazed and panting that one would expect from mere cuddling alone but if Daughter suspected foul play she didn't show it.

After a while L and I go downstairs and shower together. Which creates a stir both from Daughter and from our friends who are by now cooking breakfast. As if we'd do anything in the shower, what do they take us for, in any case I'm far too knackered after the pasting I've just had.

Our friends are doing breakfast so that by 11.00 we can all go out walking. Breakfast is provided in good time but we still don't get out walking until 12.00. We hadn't accounted for the fact that neither of them had been in the shower yet, which takes ages, then there's hair to be blow-dried etc before we go out into the wind and the rain.

L bribes Daughter to join us on the work. The fee that is offered is £3; Daughter wants £10. The bartering is still continuing, as we depart, I'm not sure what the final deal was. I suggest that Daughter should give us a pound back for each time she whinges. Daughter is not keen; she knows that she'll be in deficit by the time we get to the end of the road.

Daughter to her credit sets off at a fair rate of knots, attached to Doggo. This pace won't last long. Sure enough by the half-mile point she's had enough and it's all downhill from there. Her mood that is, the path we're on seems to be mostly uphill, which doesn't go down well. The weather isn't bad, a little drizzle, a few clouds but generally pleasant. The only black clouds are much closer to home.

Our children no longer like walking; not now they are teenagers. Years ago Daughter, and her Brother, completed an outstanding treble of climbing the big three peaks of Ben Nevis, Snowden and Scafell Pike, all before she was older than six but they were both fitter in those days. These days with their sedentary lifestyles they are no longer fit enough to do anything like that.

We manage to do a modest five miles round the valley before Daughter's sugar levels drop that low we're into major strop territory. She storms off, luckily in the right direction and at a ferocious pace. It's a shame she hadn't set this pace earlier, then we could have done twice the distance. We head to another of our favourite pubs for a hot chocolate or two. Unfortunately Daughter, the red mist now obviously blinding her eyes, takes a wrong turn and as we descend via the path to the road, she ends up in a field with a high dry stonewall between her and the road. As she struggles to clamber over the wall we manage to suppress our amusement, just, it's really not worth the rollicking we'd get if caught sniggering. We keep our heads down we head for the pub.

After refuelling on hot choc we have a two-mile gentle meander down the road back to the cottage.

We get back to the cottage just as the football results come in. Derby have won at Elland Road for the first time since 1974. Still the result is disappointing. I was hoping we’d give them a right good drubbing, 1-0 was a bit of an anti-climax, feels almost like a defeat. Although reports said we should have had more goals but missed so many chances and then almost let them snatch a draw towards the end. Seems not many paid their £36, a crowd of 20,000, which contained a full contingent of 3,000 from Derby.

More showers and blow-drying of hair means we're later than we intended leaving for the pub.

We eat at the pub and consume 2 x Thwaites, 1 x Black Sheep, 1 x Scouse Garage ale. Then L and I both take a Leffe Brune home with us to consume in bed with a chunk or two of dark chocolate.

Snecklifter RIP

A day off work but this isn't going to be a relaxing day off. Alarm goes off at the usual time and I accompany L and Doggo on an extended version of their morning run, taking in the pond and the park. We then meet Son to do a few papers.

By 8.30 we are at the swimming pool and I do 20 odd lengths of assorted strokes: - front crawl, breath stroke, doggy paddle, and freestyle drowning. The pool is very quiet, in fact for the last 15 minutes it's just L and me. The calm waters help my floundering and I feel that maybe I might, one day, crack the front crawl.

L is learning how to breathe bilaterally. Sounds a bit advanced to me and I know I'll regret asking but I do nonetheless enquire what this involves. L says she currently only breathes on one side, every other stroke. Apparently you are supposed to breathe every third stroke therefore alternating the side you breathe on. This, apparently, is useful in case you get some psycho splashing about at the side of you. I think this is something I'll save for another day. At the moment remembering to breathe without consuming half the pool is enough for me.

L warns me about the showers at this pool, there are only two of them in the Ladies. There used to be four but for some odd council reason, when they 'did up' the leisure centre they removed two of them. I find out that it is exactly the same situation in the Mens. There are two very posh showers but even with only three of us getting changed, there was a queue.

Then we go into town because I have promised to get L a sexy new dress for Christmas. As we cruise around the more upmarket dress shops we both cringe at the price tags and disagree a little on what we think suits her best but generally find common ground. One bonus is that I can legally check out other women to see what they are wearing and then relay this to L if I think their outfits would look good on her.

L tries some things on, which is good because I get to see her strip down to underwear several times. Well in some shops we do, in others they won't let me anywhere near the changing rooms. When this happens we go elsewhere, if L's modelling for me and I'm paying there's little point if I can't be involved. What are they afraid of, that we might shag in the changing rooms. Well yes of course we might but that's not to say they would probably still get the sale, isn't that what shops want, for you to spend money there. In the end, as we more of less expected, we do not come back with anything. Well that's not strictly true because L decides she wants me to show her the cycling shoes and pedals I want for Xmas. You see guys ask for simple outfits as presents. In the end we end up buying them, so that's me sorted for Xmas then.

Home and we have an hour and a half before we have to pick the kids up from school and then head north for our Lakeland weekend. It's 2pm, on a day off and shamefully we haven't found time to have sex yet. We hurriedly pack for our trip and have eggs on toast for lunch. Then we have a frantic half hour in the bedroom.

We collect the kids and then head up the M6 via traffic jams in Nottingham and Stoke and it's only 3.30. The kids are naturally bored in the car, Son's ipod is flat, and Daughter, who does not yet have her own ipod, has flattened L's. So they both take turns at reducing my fully charged ipod to the same state. Son repeatedly plays the few tracks familiar to him whereas Daughter probes the murkier depths of my playlists and skilfully homes in on all the tracks that would have been labelled 'Parental Advisory Explicit Lyrics'.

We get to our cottage, as expected, before our friends who were leaving at lunchtime, hours before us, but obviously didn't. We didn't believe they would.

The weekend forecast for the Lakes is Thunder, Heavy Rain, Gales, Wind Chill and sleet or snow possible at altitude. Hope it is correct because then it'll be a nice cosy romantic weekend, just L and me, the collie, Daughter, computer boy and our two friends.

I whip up a quick mixed bean chilli to feed us all, and then after our friends turn up we head to the local pub, where we'll be safe from the ping ping ping of computer games, and they have a roaring fire.

One thing I've been looking forward to for the past year, unfortunately it's been that long since we last managed to get up to the Lakes, is several pints of Jennings Snecklifter. When we get there the pub informs us they no longer sell any Jennings beers, the quality has been so poor since they were taken over by Wolverhampton & Dudley Breweries that they have stopped selling it. Bugger. 2 x Barngates Gold, 1 x some Scouse beer brewed in some chaps garage and 1 x Thwaites Lancaster Bomber have to do instead.

Sex, Alcohol & Cake

On bus today, so I have to drag myself out of bed early. As I head for the shower I look longingly at the naked girl that I leave behind.

Despite the early start I still end up running for the bus. I don't have the required £5 for the bus fare and have to pay with a £10 note. Thankfully they don't operate one of those ridiculous exact price systems that wind up all the customers but make nice profits for the bus companies. Even so the driver cannot change my tenner.

Why do the drivers never carry enough change? I have witnessed this problem on numerous occasions, when it has happened to other people, but have only been unlucky enough to have a problem with it on one previous occasion, because normally I manage to have the correct money.

The driver had no £5 notes; it also appears that he didn't even have any £1 or 50p coins either, as he paid me in mainly 20p's and 10p's, the majority of which were 10p's. I was tempted to refuse the change, get off his bus, and wait for the next one but for some reason I don't. I didn't have time to count the vast pile of change as the other passengers were already glaring at us for the delay. When I got to work I did count it, £4.80. So I've been short changed by 20p as well, charming.

I will be saving the pile of change so that the next time I travel with that same driver I can pay him back with it. Somehow I think he'll be just as unhappy as I was to receive it.

The Swimfit website tells me that I burnt 1319 calories cycling to work yesterday, each way! Which sounds a lot to me! It says I only burnt 168 swimming on Monday, although it didn’t take into account all my flailing around. Our 3-mile run burnt 339. So the conclusion is if you want to burn calories get on your bike.

Pub today, Steak & Kidney pie and Salamander Stout. All excellent.

L's on her bike today, hoping to get cast iron thighs like mine, so she says. However it's now so windy I don't think she'll be biking down the hill to home. I shall look forward to showing her another way to get cast iron thighs tonight.

Daughter is making our Christmas cake today and I get home to see that she has already been soaking the fruit in rum. I'm not sure she knows what a reasonable soaking of rum is, so we could be in for a very merry Xmas.

Took Doggo for a walk. We get accosted by Santa and his sleigh rattling a collection tin. I thought Santa was all about giving gifts, hard times affect us all it seems.

Get a phone call from the Motor Neurone Disease society, apparently in one of my rasher moments I bought a raffle ticket from them. I am told I have won a pair of Winnie The Pooh nose clips, at least I think that's what they said. They're going to pop it through my door. This is quite an achievement because I never win any prize draws, ever.

Squash tonight. We intend to try and keep the game down to a reasonable length this week and not the hour and 15 we played for last week. My opponent will just have to learn to accept it when he loses the last game of the match and not keep demanding to play another one. Then he might be able to walk the next day. In the end we are chucked off court by another match after only 45 minutes, just as he was tiring and I was getting warmed up. Unfortunately I had lost all five games to that point. Most of them were close though.

Get a text from L, she's stressed and says she needs sex, alcohol and cake as soon as possible although not necessarily in that order. That's not an offer a boy like me can refuse. Luckily we have plenty of alcohol in the house and naturally I am more than willing to give her as much sex as she wants, anyhow she wants it, but I'm not sure we have any cake. I hope this fact doesn't scupper the whole deal.

Despite the urgency of the message she assumes I'll be off to the pub first, so in the meantime she's cooking spam curry. Huh, well in that case I will pop for a quickie (of beer) before coming home and giving her the benefit of something much slower. So I have a very nice swift pint of Grantham Stout.

I text her to ask if it's food or sex first. She opts for the sex first but only after she and Daughter have finished watching Bleak House. Huh and I get accused of putting the pub first. I could have had time for another pint.

Post Bleak House I finally get my girl where I want her or, as she seems so wonderfully up for it tonight, perhaps she gets me where she wants me, which appears to be behind her, inside her and with my finger between her legs. It's all very messy and all very wonderful as we round things off with her on all fours. (L, I hope that isn't too explicitly put) The session is accompanied by Old Peculiar and with curry to follow. It doesn't get any better than that.

Hot Oil

Brilliant idea to cycle today. The A52 has accidents in both directions and is down to one lane in both directions, so would have been well late for work. Thought something was up when I overtook the Red Arrow bus in the middle of Stapleford! Even overtook the sandwich van that will turn up at my work to serve me lunch later on.

I was 7 minutes slower this morning, that’s because of all the extra traffic I had to negotiate because of everyone avoiding the A52!

L emails to tell me of her manic morning. After her run, of which she laments the dog for stopping for three phantom dumps, she did a couple of papers for Son, cooked Daughter's soup, filled in a great two sided form for Son's history trip (presented by him at the very last minute), wrote cheque for said trip, fed dog, tidied up, removed fleece from dog's paws, waited while he went for another phantom dump, then cycled to the pool stopping at every set of traffic lights and still made it to the pool for 8.30.

Even then she had to battle with a pool attendant who ran off with her float because she thought it belonged to the Leisure Centre. Her mornings are so much more exciting than mine are, I’m jealous.

L says that if her mornings were really exciting she'd have thighs like mine. I presume she means aching ones, ones that currently feel as if they're on fire! They are definitely in need of some hot oil.

She concedes it's my turn for the oil tonight. Her hamstring feels reasonable this morning, better for the massage I inflicted on her. She's threatening to book me in for a proper sports massage, so that I can experience the real thing. The real agony I think she means.

Made up for my pedestrian cycle this morning by posting an excellent time for the return journey. Only a few seconds outside my PB.

Guides tonight and Daughter has to be chaperoned so that a sticky end does not become her at the hands of the local hoodlums and hoodies. We walk naturally, Doggo needs a walk, and I need to loosen my cycling legs. Trying to negotiate the car round the traffic nightmare that is our local roundabout is not tempting. Daughter naturally wants to go in the car. Several door slams later we are ready to go.

We pass a local hoodie sitting on the wall by the pub. I don't know if he's trying to look threatening or not but he's my age, has a beard and sitting hunched over on the wall he looks more like a garden gnome. Doggo is terrified but then again most thing terrify him and he did get mugged by the Golden Retrievers last week.

We come home and I knock up some pasta for tea. Then it's off to dog class again. We are again quite impressive, although Doggo is more enamoured with the smell of the plastic storage tub that is used for the jump poles than he is with the course. Presumably because some other dog (or dogs) have cocked their legs up it. Sniff sniff wee wee etc etc all night.

Home to L, first time I've seen her this evening. We break our Wednesday AF and take a glass of wine (ok it soon becomes two glasses) to bed. My body and legs ache that much we just talk and cuddle (for want of a better word). I'm told this is called being romantic. Prefer the lust side of things myself but that'll have to wait. I'm knackered. Even forgot to cash in that offer of the hot oil.

Time For Bed

L's hand is busy again this morning. Her efforts to lighten my load, welcome though they are, are wasted as regards cycling, as I bottle out today. It is raining and has been most of the night.

Oh my God. England collapse from 59-1 to 127 all out on the last day of the second test and go on to lose. Miracles don't happen after all.

Driving to work the roads are flooded, even parts of the A52. It is also very windy. So at first it seems a correct, if frustrating decision, not to cycle. However, the journey is so painfully slow by car; I wonder whether it might have been better to risk it. It would almost have been my own mini triathlon, a bit of a swim, probably a bit of a run and all while still on the bike. Forecast says tomorrow should be dry, so will cycle tomorrow no matter what.

We thought we'd cracked it with Swimfit but now the website won't let us sign back in without a membership number. A membership number which it seems to have omitted to give us. The system just keeps saying, "To enjoy continued access to the site you'll need to become a member of Swimfit". We have. We have.

Finally after reregistering three times, I finally spot the membership number halfway down the fifth screen that I select off the main menu. Nice handy place to put it. So it's all systems go, for now.

Swimfit offers you a swimming target to achieve 'virtually'. L opts to swim the entire length of the Thames. She has 337km to go. She's just showing off, I’m only swimming the channel, but that should keep me going until I retire! Currently I'm still wading out from the beach at Dover.

Back home and we debate whether to run or swim. First we have to wait for Riccado to turn up with the shopping (that's Ocado to you). He's booked for 7pm but last time he turned up at 5.30. Typical of him to be on time and make us wait this time.

While we're waiting L requests something 'hot'. Regrettably she means food, so I whip up a spicy curry for the four of us.

Finally the delivery comes and at around 7.45pm we opt for the run. Although it's 8pm by the time we've fitted all the lights and reflectors to Doggo's running coat. We kit him out in all kinds of paraphernalia so that he can be seen.

Run is good. I haven't run for a while and my legs feel very strong. The cycling must be doing me some good.

L's hamstring is playing up and I heat up some oil to massage it for her. We have four types of oil: - 'Time to unwind', 'Time to relax', 'time for bed', 'time for passion'. I opt for 'time for bed', for no apparent reason. L won't let me use 'time for passion' in case it has hidden powers.

I give L's hamstring a good pummelling. After which she takes over the massaging and deals with my aches. We finish the day more or less as we started it but with added lubricant.

Attempting To Drown

Driving today and I upset the dog by driving past him while he was on his paper round. At least he didn't hold it against me, as apparently he managed to throw his own toys around the house afterwards, rather than my socks. The lengths he goes to, to keep L amused in the mornings.

He still seems to be on hunger strike. He's hardly eating anything that hasn't got chicken or cheese on top of it. Hmmm. Maybe he's just taking us for a ride.

L informs me that she is feeling fit, so we should be on for a swim tonight. Hopefully she'll be in her yellow swimsuit.

Check on the internet but cannot find any references to any 'famous' bands supporting Kylie in 2004, reviews of the NEC point to a little known Swedish band.

Dog class tonight. A pretty good session, only four of us, so plenty of goes at the equipment but that also means its pretty knackering. For the last two weeks we've been also learning how to do the 'table' obstacle. Not something Doggo and I are ever likely to meet in competition as it only really comes out at the big events such as Crufts. The trainer brutally criticised some of our turns, explaining that's why we 'only' came 7th on Saturday! Cheek!

We drive home, where L is all set for swimming. Except Doggo hasn't sussed this and starts tucking into his tea of dog munchies and cheese! Best cheddar I imagine. He almost chokes on those munchies when he realised we're going straight out again. Naturally he can't let us take the car out without him, who would guard it in the car park. Either that or he's hoping that this will be the time he's finally taken inside that strange building into which we go clutching a towel. A quick check in his bowl to make sure he's got all the cheese before he leaves the rest and out sprints us to be first to the front door.

Swimming is ok; I'm still drinking most of the pool while trying to front crawl and find it hard to complete a length without getting that drowning sensation. Each time I come spluttering to a stop I'm sure I see the life guard getting out of his seat wondering who that guy is who's trying to kill himself in only a metre of water. Must be a boring job I suppose, if I keep coming back I could really liven his job up for him. Not sure if I'm progressing or not but will keep at it.

Little time to eat at home, so we have soup and bread again. You can't beat a balanced diet can you!

Forgot to mention, 26 units for last week. That's good!

Relatives

Even more leisurely start today, more shouting at Son to get up; more catching up, then I take Doggo on the park.

Just before lunch time we trip across to my parents, for a group photo of the five of us, a family day out! Photo shoot goes well. Son turns in a 'model' performance; neither Daughter not Doggo can sit still. Doggo seems to think the best pose it to be on his back with his legs in the air.

Afterwards we meet 'relatives' for lunch. Well actually we meet Doggo's brother's owners. Son opts outs out but the rest of go, although Doggo again guards the car. I stay AF again. The meal, a Sunday lunch is good. It's a carvery so you have to queue to fetch your own food, which is a pain but the upside is you can take as much as you like, if only they made the plates bigger.

Get home and I do our grocery shopping on the net.

In the evening I go swimming with L in one of her 'intimidating' swimsuits. Tonight she wears the green one, which is probably slightly more 'serious' looking than the yellow/blue she has. The yellow/blue one is my favourite though, the yellow top half is great, it really shows off her chest particularly when it's wet.

L tries to teach me to front crawl, I feel some progress is made, although they'll need to top the pool up, as I seem to swallow most of it.

Just a snack of soup back at home, so suppose lunch must have been fairly substantial. Then L crashes in bed while I catch up with the Sunday papers.

Dogging

Up at Preston today for an agility show. Normally this would entail leaving at around 6am to get there in time for the 8.30 start. However this time they have given me a schedule that means we have no events until lunchtime, so we get a lie in. The alarm is put back to a leisurely 7.30.

After L does the usual repeated shouting upstairs to Son to try and shift him out of bed to do his paper round, she returns to bed and we do some more 'catching up'.

Then I'm up and making my two flasks, one of coffee, one of soup, then Doggo and I are off up the M6 to join the dogging masses in Preston.

England post a decent score in the cricket and declare.

Up at Preston, we time our arrival brilliantly and our courses are being set up just as we get there. We have chance to peruse our three events while everyone else breaks for lunch.

Course look ok but I am a bit worried about Doggo whose nose is permanently glued to the ground sniffing. He's not looking terribly interested in doing any competing, far too many nice smells, if nice is the right word. Luckily he perks up eventually and we have a crack at out first course. We do well, quickest so far but immediately beaten by the next dog to run.

Quite pleased with ourselves we go off to check out our next course, a trickier intermediate. An hour and a half later, we have slipped down to third in our first event, but this is still in the trophies. They call for any remaining entrants to come run the course. Once the event has closed, we find we have finish 7th. Four of the last batch of dogs to run has beaten us. This is a frustratingly common problem of the best dogs hanging on until the end to run, it is also against the rules but these rules are never policed.

We cock up the intermediate, Doggo is slow off the sea-saw, and in trying to speed him up I forgot to put myself in the correct place and send him over the wrong jump. Elimination. We have timed out last few runs badly and are last to run in our final event. We have to leg it there and don't really have time to study the course. We put in a clear but unspectacular round and come 24th out of the 200 entries.

L informs me via text that she has had a crap game of badminton. This is partly following on from when she complained to the council that some centres unfairly charge her full price when she plays with Daughter whereas others are more reasonable and charge her child price. Consequently the council has now started charging them full price all the time! Today they share the badminton hall with a group of 10 who are playing across the other two courts and disrupting their game. She heads for town and retail therapy.

Obviously I'm out of local radio range so don't hear much about Derby's game at West Bromwich but it seems their luck has finally ran out. They go down to an 89th minute, deflected goal by the ageing, slightly rotund John Hartson.

We drive home and then L and I go out in Nottingham. A couple of pints of Caledonian, three Leffe's and a lot of city council bashing later we stagger home, decide to skip our pre-prepared chilli and go straight to bed, to sleep, it is 1am.

Fishnets

Alarm goes off. Radio informs that England are doing better in the cricket, so miracles can happen. Can't hear any rain. Am on my bike today. Ought to get up but L is doing something with her hand which prevents me doing so. Last night L was complaining that things are so hectic as the moment that she's isn't getting the best deal, sex wise. This morning she seems to be making sure, I wonder if the Brazilian effect is kicking in. Would be rude to turn her down, I'm just going to have to pedal faster.

Damp roads but no rain and a very good ride, perhaps I am getting fitter after all. Although I have to pedal quickly because L's fiery chicken curry, good though it was, is playing havoc with my stomach.

Fantasy league is going to be horrible this week. I have a change to make but I so many players out again this weekend, I don't really know where to start. Oh well it's only a game.

Decent enough bike home and my quickest time for some time.

In the evening we go to L's Xmas Meal, which is being held at the house of a colleague of hers. L is reluctant to go; she is never keen on socialising with work colleagues. I can't talk, I'm not even going to mine which takes place towards the end of the month.

L has bought a new dress for the evening, a cheap one she assures me. I get the pleasure of watching her try various combinations of things to wear with it. The top of the dress is very open and she opts to wear another top under it, if she didn't the evening could have been very interesting. The fishnets and Daughter's boots that she wears with it look great. With her looking so good, it's a real shame we have to go out.

In contrast to my gig earlier in the weekend, this time I am the youngest one there. Everyone is very nice, the food ok and I drive and stay AF. We have a lively debate with someone who reckons the Raconteurs supported Kylie Minogue on her Showgirl tour at the NEC back in 2004. No, no, not possible, will check this out on the internet.

We get home and have a couple of glasses of red wine. So not totally AF.

Obviously relieved that her ordeal; that wasn't really an ordeal after all; is over, L is terribly compliant as I take her to bed. I do not let her remove any of her outfit and then I take my time unwrapping her. L does some unwrapping of her own, she seems to be keen to do some catching up this weekend, that's fine by me.

Fiery Chicks

In car today and not a bad journey, the council must still be corralling all the cars in the city centre with their mass of traffic lights.

L bemoans the fact that it took her 14 minutes to cycle to work. Seems a bit accurate to me, sounds like she's purposely timing it, getting serious eh! Competitive even! 14 minutes doesn't sound too bad to me, they'd be lots of traffic lights in that.

The dog's pissed her off again; he shagged her running kit around the bedroom this morning. She thinks he's getting less choosy what he shags. Typical male eh! Having said that, it's not a bad choice by the dog, it's a very sexy kit and was probably nice and sweaty too, although personally I'd have waited until she was wearing it.

My mate the Leeds fan is ducking out of the Leeds United v Real County (he means Derby) match up at Elland Road. Apparently they are charging £36 a ticket. What a bargain that is Mr Bates, just to watch their current dire team, they charged a lot less when they were playing in Europe. I upset him by telling him that he could save himself a tenner by going in the Derby end, because it's only £26 for away supporters. That's really rubbing their noses in it.

He says they're probably going for a curry instead. That does sound like a much better idea to me, if I was him I wouldn't go to the match without a blindfold. He agrees. He thinks Derby will win easily; he reckons next season Leeds will be playing Peterborough and Derby will be being annihilated by Chelsea! That's the nicest thing he's every said about Derby. Probably the nicest thing he's ever said about Peterborough too; they don't do promotions.

Pub lunch. Cottage Pie and a Chocolate Stout that wasn't that impressive. The Stout that is, the Cottage Pie was as good as ever.

The council crack under pressure. I have been verbally abusing them via email since we found out that we will not be able to get our normal game of squash in on the Thursday after Xmas because the Leisure Centre is shutting at 6pm. Me and L can't get any evening swims in either. It could be worse because most of the centres aren't opening at all between Xmas Eve and the day after New Year. Nonetheless 6pm is no good to use, as we are both at work as normal, so I complained, strongly and then I complained again, even more strongly. Repeated this until they give in. Well now they've backed down and are staying open until 9pm. Although it’ll probably be that busy, because there will only be two courts open in the whole of the city, that we won't be able to get a game.

As for tonight's squash. As usual he gets his excuses in before we start; got a cold, tired; bad back etc etc etc

I play pretty well. My court positioning is much better and he doesn't serve well. I still lose but it is close, I go down 5-3. Yes we played 8 games and he was so unhappy with the way the 8th went he wanted to play a 9th but it was now 9.00, we'd been on court for 1 hour and 15 minutes!

I am supposed to be meeting L at the pub; she was running there. Get a text from her at 9.05 saying she's just leaving home but due to the dubious reception within the leisure centre complex I think it was sent much earlier. She is stood outside in the cold waiting for us when we arrive. Doggo is trying to pick a fight with one of the dogs inside, so she can't get him in to the pub.

We stop for swift one; it would have been nice to have stopped for more as it's a Scottish ales night, celebrating St Andrews Day. Have a pint of Atlas Three Sisters which brings back fond memories of Glencoe.

We go home to eat. My fiery girl has cooked up a fiery chicken curry. It is excellent. We have another beer.

Brazilian

Before I go to work I give L a quick 'mock' Brazilian with my razor. This is at her request, so that she can look more the part in her new 'intimidating' swimsuits. My efforts hardly produce the pruned, sculpted runway of a true Brazilian but it's not a bad effort.

In the car again but the journey in is not too bad. Apparently they’ve put a new set of traffic lights in the centre of Derby and all the traffic is gridlocked around there, which makes my journey easier. Council say the delay on the lights is set at 23 seconds; people ringing into local radio have timed it at 7 seconds. Whoops. Everyone else at work who had to come from that way were seething when they got in, late obviously.

L spent yesterday criticising Doggo for too much weeing and sniffing when they were on their morning run but today she emails to tell me she waded through the wet grass especially so he could have a sniff. She loves him really. Then she put chicken on top of his munchies to ensure he ate before she left for work. I rest my case, they are the best of friends; bosom buddies.

Perhaps in her defence I should explain that our dog has an eating disorder, in that most of the time he really can't be bothered to eat. Often he'll ignore his breakfast and just leave it. Then when you get home he'll make a big point of eating it in front of you. As if to say 'I was so worried and lonely while you were out at work, I almost starved to death'. He's such a dramatist!

Nipped into town in my lunch hour. Nip not being quite the right word as, with our new office being in a new 'development' on the edge of town, the town centre is no longer nippable. I'm looking at base layers for under my cycling jacket, preferably a long sleeve one. There are loads in the sale. There is a really good one which would also be ideal for cycling in the summer but its lime green! Not sure that's my colour. I’d certainly be visible in it!

L's bought me another mango, a bargain one, the shop assistant thought it was an avocado and rang it through the till for 30p cheaper. Durrrrrrr!

I check out the benefits of Brazilians on the internet, allegedly from a female point of view.

http://www.ivillage.co.uk/beauty/bodybasics/remove/articles/0,,548157_643583,00.html

Apparently after a full Brazilian, women feel sexier, physically cleaner, but mentally dirtier. Hmmm. They suddenly feel inclined to strut about the bedroom demanding all sorts of sexual acts from their partner which previously they would have been embarrassed to ask for. Hmmm. At every opportunity, they want to expose themselves and volunteer themselves for detailed gynaecological inspection from their boyfriends. Hmmm. They look neater, feel cleaner, and are more sexually rampant. Hmmm, just adding wax to my shopping list.

In the evening I go to watch Derby. Where I expect Billy Davies’s defensive formation to grind out another joyless 1-0 win. Luckily because of this engagement I will oblivious to most of the expected carnage in the fantasy league until it is all over. Although I'm sure I will receive unwanted half time and full time updates via test message if things are going badly.

In the end watching Derby is a pleasure. For the first time this season they put on a decent footballing performance. First time with me watching anyhow. Despite that they have a goal disallowed, then concede a soft goal and go in one down at half time, so much for good football. No texts, so things must be going ok. The second half they don't play as well, so naturally they soon equalise. They score the winner in injury time. I hate to say this but we are having so much luck you'd say our name was on the cup (or whatever you get for winning the league). Still no texts.

Go for a couple of pints with my folks afterwards, Bass regrettably. Again the guest ales are not on, the landlady tells me she also regrets the fact they haven't got any on at the moment because she is a fan of them too. So stop pouting at the customers love and get some sorted!