A good afternoon or at the newly refurbished and revamped Kenilworth Racecourse, including a win for everyone’s favourite horse* in his biggest race yet.
Many jubilant scenes in the sunshine in the new Winner’s Circle. You may even spot someone you know in there.
* especially those who placed bets on him. (It me!)
This was me this morning (well, apart from the “really fast” bit), waking up after my first gym session in 3 weeks.
But yesterday went well, and so I did the same in the heat again this morning in an attempt to reinforce some sort of dominance over what is left of my musculature. Managing the post-Covid tachycardia carefully (several emergency phone calls would have been made if I hadn’t switched that feature on my watch off), I eventually managed a few decent uphill kilometres on the static bike and several (or more) weights. And then into the pool for a desperately needed cool down on what is definitely the hottest day of the summer season thus far.
And it all feels ok. A bit hurty, but good hurty, rather than damaged hurty. Tomorrow morning will be another test, but I’m pleasantly surprised at how well things have gone thus far.
Football next Tuesday is the aim, but that seems quite a long way off at the moment.
Still – let’s see. Onward and upward.
Spotted this on Facebook earlier, and never have I identified with anything quite so much.
Memories of Mr Dalton and Mr “Mental” Mantle came flooding back straight away.
Ankle deep in claggy mud on the top field. The slap as the ball hit your cold, wet thigh, and the peach and purple pattern it immediately left behind.
Legally assaulting an opponent by belting the ball directly at them was a completely acceptable – and oft used – tactic. And when faced with the other side weaponising the Mouldmaster, it was imperative that you didn’t back down or “nesh” the challenge. Taking the hit and then carrying on sent a very powerful message. Even if you were weeping internally.
Which you were.
30-something years on, and just the sight of that ball has got my inner thigh tingling.
And not in a good way.
First win of the season, on a grey, wet afternoon at Bramall Lane. Even if it took a soft, 100th minute penalty to do it.
But who cares how it happens? Why not just enjoy the moment?
Amazing scenes. Long overdue.
As I mentioned yesterday, we spent the day at a wedding in Stellies.
An amazing celebration, topped off with that rugby match, and a tight South African win.
What a win, but oh, so tight.
Because it was a wedding, we spent half time on the dance floor. As you do.
‘Ave you seen me dancin’? I mean, really dancin’?
I never realised that dancing was so good for stress, but you can clearly see exactly where half time was on my watch.
To me, this actually proves that there might be something almost accurate in these measurements.
It also explains why I needed a stiff drink and another boogie once the game was over.