Distance (mostly) run: 4.89 km
Calories burned: 373
Blisters gained: 2
Bramble scratches: 1
Time taken to return to stop looking like a tomato: about an hour
Weight: 74 kg
Today I did what I've been saying I'd do for months: I went for a run. Those 40 odd minutes weren't quite as bad as I'd expected, which I can only put down to the pre-season hockey fitness sessions I've been to in the last couple of weeks. I took my ipod loaded with 'running songs' bought from good old Amazon for pennies, and put the 'Map My Run' app to use on my phone, which is strangely feel-good. Sure, I did a bit of power-walking on the last stretches of the route, but I came back alive. I was rather horrified to see the tomato-red shade my face had turned, a stark comparison to my Caspar-esque pale legs (which, on reflection, were well overdue a shave). No wonder I'd gotten strange looks from dog walkers when I ran along the old railway.
Following on from my run and fitness campaign, I've just finished my last glass of wine for a while. Wish me luck; I'm going to need it.
Sunday heralded my date with Plenty of Fish Man #3. I'd had hopes for this one, and we planned to have a country walk with the black Labrador I looked after at the weekend, followed by a pub lunch. But alas, I realised within the first few seconds of meeting that I just wasn't attracted to him. Whether this was to do with his tinny South-African accent, or his physical features, I'll never be quite sure, but I did my best to chat while we fed bread to the rainbow trout in the river. As we walked back to the pub for lunch, he described how in his spare time he was currently programming Microsoft Excel to play the board game Mastermind against his mother. Admittedly very, very clever. But a notch too high on the geek scale for me. Anyway, he was kind to the dog, keen to chat (to me as well as the dog), and was overall a nice chap, but that's as far as it went.
HOWEVER. Along came Tuesday evening, and with it, a spontaneous casual drink with Plenty of Fish Man #4. He lives just in the next village, which is a miracle in itself, and so we have a few mutual friends. We met at one of our favourite country pubs, and I didn't need to have sunk half a 7.2% cider to see how smiley and good looking he was, with good conversation too. Anyway, for once I had a really nice evening and we've plans for the weekend: blackberry picking. Random, but why not?!
And finally, hooray! The Great Bake-Off is back! What a good first week, with Mr Hollywood's eyes as blue and glinting as ever and some epic bakes straight-off. Mum's hooked for the first time ever. My odds are on the satellite-inventor guy, who's clearly realised how much of a science baking is. I haven't, however, really warmed to any of the contestants yet this year, in the same way that I did to dear old student John or even stuck-in-a-time-warp Brendan. And as for the Essex girl with the curls, if she's going to cry in the first week, she's toast.
Wine: at least 3/4 bottle of Shiraz
Steak: 1. Explains the Shiraz
Temporary labrador in residence: 1. Quite smelly too.
Dates since last post: 2
Potential points on driving licence: 3
That dreaded letter finally came in the post: 4 years and 11 months after passing my driving test, I was caught doing 36mph in a 30 zone, down a little country road on the way back from Sainsbugs. 'Oh, there was a speeding van there,' my mother pointed out oh-so-helpfully after I'd driven past it. 'I think it was pointing the other way,' I replied, keeping my knickers, fingers and toes crossed. To no avail. OH THE SHAME. I've elected to go the to the driving awareness course at the cost of £90 and 4 hours of my time, instead of a £60 fine and 3 points on my licence. Let's hope they allow me to.
Last week I had my first date with Plenty of Fish Man #1. I was looking forward to it. On paper he was perfect; 28 years old ('an older man, very good', said Mum) went to a good school in Guildford, then won a choral scholarship to Oxford (hooray, he'll understand my love of choral music!) youngest of 4 siblings (very good, I like a big family) works at Southampton Uni and owns his own house. Hurrah!
In reality...
SO DISAPPOINTING.
He wasn't as good looking as his pictures, and he talked out of the side of his mouth, giving the impression he'd had a mini-stroke. We met at a pub by the river, and I sat for 2 hours trying not to be bored out of my socks. It didn't help that ever now and then he'd pepper his sentence with, "When I was your age...." Not cool. Eventually my tiredness and boredom got the better of me and a tiny, weeny little yawn slipped out. I'm judging by the fact that I haven't heard from him since (a blessing in disguise..) that he had taken offence. So that was the end of that.
Last night I had another date. Plenty of Fish Man #2 appeared a bit too cool and a bit too good-looking for my taste, so it took me a while to agree to a date with him. This time, we met for dinner at a pub full of pigs in the New Forest. Overall, it was better than date #1. Maybe there wasn't an age gap getting in the way. But I wasn't too impressed when he went to order food and came back with a drink for him and had forgotten all about my empty glass of water. Whether this was down to stinginess or absent-mindedness I'll never know, but he allowed me to buy my own glass of wine, and was happy enough to show me his BMW Series 1 (whatever that means) sitting sleekly in the pub car park.
I wasn't expecting to hear back from this guy, since a little yawn slipped out again at 10.20pm- this time due to tiredness rather than absolute boredom, but 24 hours later I've received a text. Maybe our date was better than I'd perceived.
Tomorrow is date with Plenty of Fish Man #3. We've rearranged it for Sunday lunch rather than Monday evening, mostly because then there will hopefully be no little yawns slipping out to cause offense, and also we can take the black labrador we're looking after this weekend for a walk too. Oh- and cos I read somewhere the other day that the best time to take a photo of someone is at lunchtime, so that they're over the morning puffiness, and the fatigue hasn't yet set in. I guess the same goes for how you look on a date. Well, fingers crossed, because I like Man # 3. Let's hope I'm not left disappointed.
On another note, I came back from my date with Man #2 last night and my mother said, 'your legs look chunky, Chunky Monkey, like tree trunks.' Bloody charming. If she doesn't like my legs, how can I expect any man to? Fingers crossed long skirts come back into fashion soon.
