McLeans Island. 9.30, on a pretty blue Sunday. Self, friend Chris, our two dogs – the run was on.
McLeans has an 11k running track. We did it twice. 2 hours, 27 minutes. I was still bopping at the end, even after a full length face plant (stretched out that right shoulder again, dammit) and coming home to discover yesterday’s wear of illfitting shoes for a walk was sufficient to reignite the old blisters.
But that’s my first practice half, done and dusted. Next month the St Clair will be my first proper one. Haven’t read the topo yet so don’t know what the pace will be like.
Was listening to National Radio on the way there – fascinating piece on the axing of the NZPA (New Zealand Press Association). That’ s the impartial source of truth gone. I wonder now if the fourth estate role will be delegated to citizens who post comments on media sites, in response to tabloid style articles? (The fifth column, indeed!)
Went to New World at Northwood. Shopped happily. New World was my old store over here – it was like going home to see the familiar products, placed similarly. (Also to hear my own voice coming out of the PA cheerfully extolling the virtues of products I hadn’t seen at the time of voicing.)
Home, put away my laundry.
Went to the Brickworks, caught up with the beautiful Elizabeth. Drinks and nibbles and gossip and home again to tidy the house quickly, clean the kitchen and put things away, throw a roast in the oven and lipstick on – dinner guests tonight. Nice to look the part, and my own very special secret dessert.
Tomorrow I have a meeting at 10 with the Insurance Ombudsman and the Insurance council. After that, tomorrow is paperwork, catching up with Therese Minehan, then on to Mum and Dad’s. It’s Dad’s 81st tomorrow. (He’ll throttle me for telling his age, and after the run today he might even catch me if he tries!)
Now to the fire and the emails and the wait for the knock on the door, Pepper to signal that people are here.
There’s nothing like a Sunday roast, is there?