Run!

Yes folks, it's some kind of miracle! I managed to quell my soul-sucking reluctance and accompany Fisher on a run at Tentsmuir with the pooches. It was cold, so I donned trackie bums, my vest top that I have to wear under my bra (get blisters from the straps otherwise), a running t-shirt, and my running jacket.

I then stepped out of the house and found it much milder than anticipated - but did I amend my wardrobe?

Noooo!

I therefore started shedding clothing like a washing machine with its door open after about 5 minutes of my run, having to leave my jacket hanging on a fence post and picking it up on the way back.

But! Without even trying, I managed to complete my fastest ever 5k. 33mins 55seconds. Yes yes, I know there are three legged pigs who can run faster, but I was dead, dead chuffed. I was also utterly knackered all the way round because I'd eaten only 2 bits of toast, some 4 hours previously. Goober.

We then went ot Tesco and picked up the weekly shop before returning home and getting ready to go out for a home-cooked meal with Fonda, who's just got her dining room up and running and wanted to show it off. It's lovely - wooden floors, white walls, a Mediterranean feel - even in the depths of a Scottish winter. She cooked us lamb and cous-cous (she put baby tomatoes, pre-roasted in balsamic vinegar, in the cous-cous which were delicious and which Fisher, cous-cous Queen of our house, is now going to adopt. If she can be arsed) followed by Apple Pie and cream from M&S. We chatted over coffee and biscuits, discussing her boyfriend (whom she never fails but to paint as a complete twong, but I'm sure isn't) who then telephoned, on cue. Fonda said she was busy, so she'd call him later. "Yes, really!" she replied to his disbelief, and put the phone down. Ten seconds later, he rang again.

"You never asked," we heard Fonda say, and correctly interpreted this as a resonse to "you didn't tell me why you're busy!"

Granted, if I phoned Fisher only to be told she was busy, I'd want to know what she was up to, in an interested sort of way. In fact, if she said: "I'm busy right now, can I can I call you back?" I'm pretty sure I'd say: "Sure. What are you up to?" And if, for some reason, I didn't ask straight away I think I could contain myself and wait until she called me back to find out. Not Fonda's fella. He had to know then and there, to the extent of calling her back, further interrupting proceedings. Couple that with Fonda telling us that, when she'd asked what he was doing for Christmas, he claimed he would "decide on Christmas Eve."

Sounds like a selfish, self-centred arse to me. Who actually thinks they can just descend on a family Christmas at the last minute? Someone who's never cooked a Christmas meal, or done anything to prepare for Christmas, or any social gathering that involves feeding, housing and entertaining a large number of people, that's for sure.

Still, Fonda keeps bemoaning the fact she always says the wrong things about him, and I'm trying very hard to reserve judgement until I actually meet him. I'm sure he's a great guy. Fonda's certainly happier since they got back together, so that's good.


Aaanyhoo - enough judgement and crabbishness! I've done far too much looking down the old nose in the past few days, and it makes me feel all curled up inside. Life is good! Next week we go down to York to enjoy a hotel break with Brother and Gaura and belatedly celebrate his birthday. The tennis social is this Friday, and Sunday night we're going out for a meal with Koios and Pro before the trip to York, where I plan on discussing New Year plans. And Christmas is so close! Holy crap ona stick! I must book our Malta flights.

I'm off to do that now.

Urg. Flights.

No! Life is GOOD! Hurrah for flights. Hurrah for Christmas, family and pals. Hurrah, I tell you!