Photograph Quiz:
Photo no 132:- So where is this, what is the building called and which is my room?
Dear Blog,
So it is nearly goodbye to the cross country season for another year with only the Inter Counties Championships (and for the youngsters, the English Schools Championships) remaining. What have we learned from this last six months, Blog? Have you raced too much or trudged too often rather concentrate on planned quality training. Certainly, when observing my younger club mates, methinks that there has been lots and lots of training with little racing, forfeiting team medals at National Championships because those with arms full of badges have a preference for filling in their little red training books instead of full filling a commitment to their athletes by letting them enjoy the sport and collect a few meaningful awards along the way. Roll on the ‘Mickey Mouse 10 kilometres’, the ‘You Must Be Joking 5km Park Run’ and the ‘Fleece the Athlete 5 miles’ (8 kilometres to you Blog).For participating in the ‘Cough Up a Few Quids Fun Run’, you receive a shiny medal on a piece of brightly coloured ribbon just like the other eight hundred participants receive, you might get your picture in the local newspaper (reporting that tens of thousands took part) and if you win, perhaps a prize of a few quids which will cover the cost of entering the next ‘Saw You Coming Half Marathon’. But the kudos? Can’t beat it. Only the winner can claim the race title, sought after by no one else in the area. But I have no badges so I will stop lecturing you Blog on all these aspects of road running when you know much more than I have forgotten.
Arriving home from the snowy, very very muddy Sunderland, my wife treated me to one of her special dinner treats. She is so thoughtful. For meat she just had to cook a couple of horses hooves each, they being so popular at the moment, in supermarkets everywhere. Realising that I might use all my bullets in failing to kill a possible intruder in the shower with my AK-69 automatic, she supplied half a plate of peas to be used as back up to slay the possible robber. If the concrete peas proved ineffectual, the solidified potato wedges could be used in hand to hand combat, and there is nothing more deadly than one of her sharpened cooked carrots. Blog, I kid you not. Usually the crunchy gravy helps build up the strength of my gums, but left uncut with a knife, the platter of gravy can be quite deadly when used as a discus and thrown with accuracy. And for sweet, my wife served up custard. Just custard you ask Blog? Yes, just custard! My wife specialises in three different sorts of custard. Firstly there is her ordinary custard … no problem if you want to cut yourself a second or third slice. The second type is the stand alone custard, useful when the assembled guests wish to play after dinner party games. Spoons are stood upright in the custard, and the hardened Brussels sprouts are bowled along the table cloth towards the spoons, the winner being the person who manages to knock any spoon from the upright position; a leaning spoon counts as a half point. The game is like table top skittles except the spoons are much harder than skittles to knock over. Her third type of custard is called ‘King Arthur Yellow Custard’, a family favourite. This is always regarded as a family challenge, the winner always being rewarded with one of my wife’s mince pies. All other participants in the family receive two mince pies for their failure. And the aim of the ‘King Arthur Yellow Custard’ sweet, you ask Blog? I am glad you did; the declaration of the Family Champion is much sought after by relatives across the country. To be crowned for being the only person able to extract the spoon from the custard is fought for whenever two or more family members meet together. One of those stories that circulate as family myths claims that Great Uncle Charlie actually manage the feat on one occasion but there is no evidence to substantiate the achievement. Aunty Gerty, his wife, always said that it was one of their most bestest friends who extracted the spoon, Uri Gargarin or something like that name. For wine my wife treated me to some of her last year’s rhubarb sparkling wine. She calls it sparkling as that is the state of the horse brasses after they have been cleaned.
And so to bed.
Colin
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