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.
Showing posts with label romantic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romantic. Show all posts
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
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.
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.
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