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.