Death Of A Clown

Blues V Arsenal was a bit more eventful and dramatic than I had anticipated. A great result for the Blue boys, which seems to have been somewhat forgotten, one way or another.

I have been a bad, bad, unenthusiastic wrunner. Thursday I couldn't wrun, for reasons already stated. I could have wrun on Friday but opted to go shopping instead, fully intending to make up for it on Saturday, but on Saturday I was hungover so chickened out, but I did go yesterday, but not today. Now I feel guilty.

Yesterday me and the nipper went out quite late in the afternoon, and the Mrs decided to come along as well, for a stroll down the river, which meant that the other two poor buggers got dragged out too. The daughter has given up on the idea of the wrun. It is boring.

We piled out of the car and the nipper hared off, as is his wont, while I lumbered along inelegantly behind him. It was bad, but not as bad as before, not in the same way, anyway, but my calves and shins were causing me pain again. This pain was nothing though, compared to the pain of finding my Mrs , in her jeans, kinky boots and heavy coat trotting along beside me, with a big grin on her face and not suffering at all. Not to mention the daughter appearing from nowhere and legging it effortlessly ahead. In her diamante bloody slippers.

To add insult to injury, the Mrs reckons she has not suffered at all, all day. I don't believe her.

So, now the whole family will be doing the run, not so much the Royal Tenembaums as National Lampoons Charity Wrunathon. I have convinced myself that I will be able to do it, despite continued pain in the lower legs, and despite not going out again today. I put a bit of effort in yesterday and at no time did I feel like throwing up, nor did I fear a heart attack or imminent death. Perhaps the rest did me good. I still had to apply the deep heat liberally to my neck and shoulders this morning though. I am sure that the ladies of Blaenau Gwent find it very sophisticated and alluring.