They are for having big Sunday lunches, and then digesting.
That's what I'd decided to do, as Jonni had proposed that he come round and put the world to rights with me, lunch and a DVD. I did vaguely think that I'd put the chicken on, and squeeze a run in while it was cooking, but I'd apparently forgotten that (a) you tend to be doing the other food while the chicken is cooking, and (b) I needed to tidy the house. However, as having Jonni in the house generally involves alcohol, I was slightly concerned about getting the run in at any point, but I thought I'd, you know, cope.
At one point, I thought Mixy was a dead cert for lunch as well. I say this on the basis that for at least the last two months, Mixy has been posting requests for Sunday lunch each week on Facebook. So I asked if he wanted to join us, and he said he was busy. He is no longer my favourite poet. (Although see also Wendy Cope's poem about favourites... "When they ask who my favourite poet is, I'd better not mention you. Although you certainly ARE my favourite poet... and I like your poems too."). I also thought Carolyn might have been tempted, so all in all, I had plenty of food. I mentally scrolled through my list of friends (oh alright, I used Facebook, but I mentally ALSO scrolled through my list of friends who weren't on Facebook), and ended up texting Dave (theatre-Dave... remember him?) and much to my surprise, he accepted, which was great, as it meant I hadn't just created a food-mountain.
Anyway, lunch went off a treat, but I didn't go running beforehand. We had a good discussion about cooking, where Jonni told us that his mother is such a bad cook that his brother once turned down an opportunity to come out of prison two weeks early because he thought the food was better inside. I tried to establish how much of this was exaggeration, but Jonni said it was true. I indulged in a gin and tonic or two over the afternoon, and while Dave disappeared off home to get some sleep before his night-shift, Jonni and I watched King and Clown, and I was delighted that Jonni liked it as much as I did.
I did make the important discovery that I'm not incompetent - I did put the cat flap back together again. It emerges that my cat, who is a fast study, has simply learned, from the interloper cat, to headbutt the catflap until he can get in. He left the house with Dave earlier, and I forgot to let him back in, so I was concerned later to hear a loud thudding from the backdoor, and got up, expecting to see the thug-cat, when who emerged through the discarded cat flap but my own little moggy. This cat flap clearly doesn't work.
I used the last of the sunlight to go for a run, which I decided to alter the course a little, and run up the cycle path alongside Bourges Boulevard, which is actually quite tree-y and not at all like running alongside a dual carriageway. I ended up at the top end of Lincoln Road, and headed back along Alexander Street to the top of Dogsthorpe. I felt a spring in my step, and set a good pace for the first kilometer, but this not only faded, I also felt a familiar nagging pain in my left calve muscle. This was alarming. One thing I don't need is two weeks off... I've just reached over £100 in the sponsorship. I slowed down, and it seemed to ease off, so I just had to hope. It didn't feel that good in the evening though.
I wasn't running in the bare foot shoes, but I wondered if the exercise in them the day before had been more strain than I thought. Hmmm. It is said that walking in them is also good for you, so if needs be, I might try that.
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