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.