Project feedback day

I wasn’t looking forward to this. I’m at least ten years younger than most of the people that I work with, and thirty younger than some of them, but I have an overview and governance role in my organisation. I run a project. They work on the project. Some of them see me as a young whippersnapper (young!) who has no place asking them to ___, ____ or ____. I’d dreaded this feedback day. Here comes an anger workout, punchbag: me. Gulp!

The fear of a thing can be worse than the thing itself. We split into small groups, with members of my team facilitating discussions. My group were constructive in their answers to questions, and showed empathy towards the difficulties my team faces. Something was wrong. “I’ve got a soft group,” I thought, “or I’m not asking the right challenging questions.” The plenary came, and the feedback from the other groups was similarly positive. It wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all.

From work

I need a better rucksack, the one I've been using rubs between my shoulders. I ran pretty hard from work to Longford Park, then jogged down at a snail's pace through the park, and then ran home down Edge, High and Sandy Lanes.

I made the 1st XV...

...of a community of rugby bloggers, based on my contributions during the 6N. How very satisfying!

Centres: Chiptooth and HenryFitz: Chiptooth is the classic crash ball merchant, always gets across the gain line, while HF's elusive style makes him really hard to lay a hand on.

See the full line-up here.

General Levy says..

Some texts between Tracy and I

Tracy: Why did the lion get lost in the jungle.
Me: If he was in the jungle, he probably was lost. Lions live on the plains.
Tracy: You've just let being a twat get in the way of quite a funny joke. Unlucky dickhead.

30 seconds later

Tracy: I've just looked it up and you were right. You're still a twat though.
Me: What was the punchline?
Tracy: Because the jungle is massive.
Me: That is funny. And if it was a tiger, it'd be accurate too.

Bulbs, Hangover run

I woke up feeling rotten after the Press Club, and remembered that I’d arranged to go to Kate’s to help her plant some bulbs. Based on previous experience, gardening works wonders for a hangover. We put in gladioli, anemone, and a selection of wildflowers, hopefully bluebells and poppies, among others. I'm sure it'll look great.



I ran in my comabt trousers, and ended up going further than I thought in a time that was faster than I thought. The run through the woods at the bottom of Beech Road is lovely.

Cargo Pants / Karma Pants

Back in August, Phil had told me that my cargo pants weren't appropriate for the Lime Tree. I went and got changed. It was funny more than anything else, but on the other hand, I've not forgotten it either. It's not a scarring type memory but... anyway...

After watching the Wales v Ireland game in the rugby, Phil, Pervy, Simon and I went on a little tour of Withington, and then headed into town. It was late. Nowhere was open. We went to the Press Club. Phil tried to convince the doorman that he was a surgeon. No chance. We were about to be turned away, when I showed the doorman my work ID. He looked at it, at me, and said, "Okay. Seven fifty."

"And my friends?" I said, pointing at the other three. "Them too?"

He nodded. We all went in.

Cargo Pants: 1 - Press Club: 1

Lake time

A slightly longer route, to start building up stamina and leg strength.

Callie and Ben

Dr Jim sent me the link to this website. It's really good, he said. It's the website for my friend Ben's (photo here) wedding to Callie. They look like a nice couple, don't you think:



Check this out, from the site...

I thank God every day for bringing Ben into my life. As my sister Ainsley once told me, there could not have been a better man for me even if she made him herself. I am always in awe of his infinite patience, in stitches over his silly sense of humour (mind the English spelling!!), and in amazement at how he always one ups me in the romance department. I can't wait to spend every day and night together.

Is that romantic? Or slushy? Or both? I can't decide.

Lewis doesn't think we'll be invited to the wedding. He thinks we're considered as uncouth. I can't decide what I think about that either. We are a little uncouth in the eyes of some of our friends, Lewis is right. On the other hand, Ben wouldn't leave us out. Would he? I haven't been to a wedding in ages. Even then, it was a family wedding. Maybe that's why. I'm uncouth. Wow.

Running and bumming

I ran after work today.



As I got ran into the Water Park, just as the path bends at the bottom of Hardy Lane, I saw two gay men having sex under a tree. A single tree, right out in the middle of a field. If the men were facing 12 o'clock, then I was running towards them from 7 or 8, and so they didn't see me until I was right upon them. The older, fatter man was leant forward, one hand on the tree, the other holding his trousers up. The other man was behind him. I ran past before they really had a chance to, er, withdraw. I gave them the dignity of half a minute's grace, then looked over my shoulder. They were walking down the path, holding hands. How cute. Except they'd been publicly bumming, and it was only 5.30 in the evening.

Taking the run virginity of my new Nikes

I got some new shoes. Like 'em?



Here's how I broke them in.