23rd May. Care Home Latest.

"I don't think she's going to come out of it, to be quite honest." says my brother during tonights pre-arranged phone call about Mother's  recent stroke.

 

That's life? as they say.

 

22nd May. Public Liability Claim.

"In all the years I've had the bike shop I've never known anyone to get a penny out of the council for damage from going into potholes." says our man as he spins my wheels each one with a pronounced dent at one point in the rim. "i can't see them taking any notice until someone's been killed!"

I limp out of the shop as fast as possible so as not to miss my appointment with Dr F.

"Another cycling related injury I'm afraid."

"Let's have a look then... yes... these will all heal up and the tightness in the calf should go, if any of the wounds become infected come back in. That's it all recorded, left forearm, left hip, left knee, left ankle and left calf muscle"

Dr F. continues...

" Hit a loose manhole cover caused £600 worth of damage to the car, took a photo with my phone and wrote a letter to the council... received a cheque for the whole amount."

Well, you don't know what to believe, but we shall see.

11th May. Bute Balls Up.

Thanks to the wonders of modern technology Strathclyde Police can easily ascertain the status of any vehicle.

" That's £60 for each offence sir,  payable within 28 days. Failure to pay will result in a report being sent to the Procurator Fiscal, Do you understand this?"

"Anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you... blah blah...etc etc"

The Bute Triathlon was turning out to be one of the most expensive events so far, possibly more than Ironman France but we shall see.

I came in with a creditable 1hr 12mins, one minute faster than the Otter, at the same time apparently finishing 2mins 45 secs behind the Otter.

To put it in very simple terms, it's either a warp in the Time-space continuum or something to do with ladies and stopwatches? 

9th May. All Aboard For Bute.

Another chance to show that ex-lard arse exactly how to run a proper race as the ex-holiday isle of Bute welcomes competitors once again.

It'll be a different story of course halfway through the swim in the choppy chlorinated waters of the local swimming pool. 

Thoughts will inevitably turn to  "What's the point of all this."

This is nothing more than a symptom of our old friend Natural Weakness. 

 

 

3rd May. The Nettleman.

Fink recommends entering a Half Ironman at the end of week 8.

Hence "The Nettleman" a 'race' held locally, with only one other competitor. 

Then the 'other' competitor who was, by all accounts, enjoying the fruits of a new romance first thing, turned up halfway through the bike, promptly broke a spoke on the first incline of the Ballbreaker, then disappeared to the cycle shop.

The Other competitor reappeared an hour and a half later at the start of the run, managing to break off from txting long enough to get under way. We met Isabelle coming down from the bus stop who made fun of the gay sports apparel.

The 13.1 mile run route followed a clearly defined path according to the Ordnance Survey of 1973 possibly 1957, inevitably the 'path' petered out on the banks of the Tay. The run degenerated into a farce involving bare legs, new season nettles, old brambles and getting lost amongst a swamp of bullrushes.

"This river don't go to Aintry.

You boys done took a wrong turn.

See, this here river don't go nowhere near Aintry."