Mock mock

A morning of revision was broken up by a brief turn out to Clare's for an hour at her barbecue. Woody and Clare, Ollie and Z-Box, Chubb and Steve, Max and Wallis, and Paul were there. I hadn't seen anybody in ages - studies before buddies, right? - and I was a little overwhelmed to be faced with so many all at once. Only Milney was missing from five-seven. What a sweltering day. It wasn't easy to tear myself away, but I did, and pedalled off home.

My mock mock exam went pretty well. I wrote about sampling, and about evaluating a research proposal. Checking through the model answers was reassuring. I think I'll do okay tomorrow in my real mock.

I once was lost, but now am found

My 'lost' keys are on my desk. Fans of logic will deduce this means I got in. Fans of telepathy will know how.

Cycling, Miriam, Beer, Beer, Beer

I went to a cycling conference with ALF. The audience’s attire was mixed: a suit here; a short-sleeved shirt, smart shorts and loafers combo there; several in a polo shirt and khakis; one or two hardcore types in neon and lycra.

Afterwards I met up with Miriam, who I hadn’t seen for ages. It was brilliant to see her. We talked about cycling, about running, about work, and about chewing gum. Nothing much, but much more than nothing too. We pulled into Stockport, and hooked up with Thom and Al before the Beer Festival. Thom was being weird again, as he has been for the last six months since he moved out of Withington. Distant, disinterested, elusive. Where’s his appetite for fun gone?



At the beer festival I drank…

Crown Wheat Beer 5.5%
Ulverston Harvest Moon 3.9%
Salopian Barry's light Mild 4.0%
Marble Bee 4.8 %
Farmhouse medium 5.8%
Janet’s Jungle Juice at 6%
A pint of something else strong

…and thought I’d lost my keys. Hammered.

Champions League-a-phobe

For the second year running, I slipped off to meet a friend for a few drinks rather than watch the Champions League final. Not particularly macho. But hey, that’s me all over. We went to Art of Tea on the edge of the Badlands, aka Didsbury Village. As I walked there, I passed a car full of teenagers blazing pot, and it stank. The Champions League commentary drifted from open windows in every house. Every so often, a wailing police van passed me. Kids eh? I arrived early, sat at an outside table, and pretended not to overhear two oh-so-liberal ladies gasping at inequality of Dubai. A teenager walked past swearing loudly.

Lucinda is a legend

The temporary cap on my chipped teeth fell off last night, after eight years. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I texted Lucinda to ask for some advice.

- Would you like me to have a look at them?
- That’d be great, can I come round now?"
- I meant look at them at work. Tomorrow maybe?"
- Wow! Yes please that’d be amazing, thank you!"

I popped to Thorntons to pick up a little something to show my appreciation, and then headed out via the magnificent Victoria Station towards Bolton.

On the train to Bolton, an old lady comes over to explain a landmark we'd passed. She wears bright pink lipstick, like neon.

I think I must have copied down the postcode wrongly, as I found myself exploring 5LU rather than 4LU. Lost! In Bolton! Fuck! I was being squeezed in as a favour, and I was going to be late. I felt like I was in a mediocre sitcom. Opposite a co-op, by a pharmacy Lucinda had said.

Picture message: Do you work here?



Answer: No. Then I found out where it was, and I ran. And ran. And ran. In my shirt, in my tie, in my shoes and work trousers, I ran. I wonder if Lucinda has ever had a sweatier patient.

And, fountain of kindness that Lucinda is, my treatment was far more than the look she'd offered. An x-ray, a burr-ing, a sort of cap on one tooth, root canal work on the other, a temporary dressing, and a Spiderman sticker. And, above all, a complete absence of my normal knotting stomach of fear. I felt so relaxed. What a brilliant dentist. I'm so very grateful. Thanks a million Lucinda.

Megan's Farewell Pizza Party

It was going to take something pretty special to top the last pizza party (no pun intended with 'top' there!) and Megan's farewell pizza party sure was special!

Reebok Sale 5 miler

It was a hot, hot morning. Durex picked me up at 10ish, and we drove down. It was packed out with running club members in matching vests and shorts, quite a serious bunch. "We're the fattest people here," said Durex. "Speak for yourself mate," I replied. But he was right, there were some lean machines on show. We lingered at the back of the pack at the start.

We started with a couple of laps of the track. Once we'd got out of the complex, I looked down at my watch. 00:00:00 What? I looked again. 00:00:00 Shit, I'd forgotten to start my watch at the beginning of the race. Fucksocks! As I passed the 1 mile mark, my watch said the time was 11:12. What? Wasn't the race supposed to start at 11:00? Had I really just run a 12 minute mile? That's pretty much walking pace, isn't it? I'd better get a move on! So I kicked on, targeting people ahead of me to catch up with and then pass. Two miles, 11:20, three miles, 11:28, that's more like it, four miles, 11:36, good stuff, maybe I'll make it in under 44 minutes if I kick on even harder for this last mile. So I pushed even more. My shoulder ached, my stomach was tense, my calves stabbed, my lungs burned. I could see the track complex. One last lap. I was close to dropping as I came down the final straight. With about 30 yards to go I could see the big clock by the finish line... what?

38:50

...an age passed before the second changed to..

38:51

...I could hear the timekeeper calling out the seconds...

"...fifty-two, fifty-three..."

I crossed the line. 38:53 or 38:54. What? My watch said it was 11:44. I guess it's a little fast. Wow. My average pace per mile was 7.46. Great stuff! That equates to a 1hr42 half marathon. God I love running!



Photo via Mick Hall Photography, tyvm!

Guess which famous psychologist I saw in the race? Check out the results, and look who finished in 101st place? Wow!

Spending warm summer days indoors

I woke up today wearing a pair of tracksuit bottoms. I’d gone to bed naked, so it was rather a surprise. Quite an interesting development – shorts yesterday, tracksuit bottoms today – perhaps I’ll wake up to find myself in full kit tomorrow. Fingers crossed I’ll wake up tomorrow wearing those shinpads I’ve lost. That’d be a treat.

I started studying at 8.30, and apart from lunch, I kept at it until about 5.30. I’m hammering through the coursework now I’ve got my head around how to structure the methodology section in relation to the logistics section. I think I’ll be able to finish up this stage on Monday and get it in to my tutor on Tuesday, as we agreed. Then it’s a week until the mock. Revision time!

I was eating mushrooms, spinach and pasta as fuel for tomorrow’s run when Lewis called. He’s engaged. He took Ange out to Bakewell, and then to Chatsworth House, and proposed over a picnic. I’m over the moon. I hope he tells Zoe before she reads this blog post. Zoe, sorry if not, but wow, what good news eh!

Studies before buddies*

I woke up with a pair of football shorts in my bed. I’d put them there during the night, in a half-dreaming half-waking state. I knew why I was doing it at the time, but I don’t remember why any more.

The rest of my day was spent studying. I turned down the Tiger Lounge for it, and I think I’ll turn down Eurocultured tomorrow too. Even if it’s really sunny – getting a good mark in this course really matters to me. Studies before buddies, I’m afraid pals.

*it's a crappier version of Broes before Hoes, only with more note-taking.

Running, man

I’ve entered the Reebok Sale Five Miler. It’s on Monday, my first race since school. How exciting!