Catch Up

Went for my first run in over a week on Friday and did, I think, my fastest Tentsmuir time at 33 minutes dead. I don't really understand why I can't run as fast outside as I can inside - but there we go. Never mind. It was a warm, beautiful day and even though I found the run really uncomfortable, with indigestion settling in (possibly due to taking ibuprofen before hand), I was truly glad I'd done it. Unfortunately, my ankle wasn't happy at all. I've got tendonitis in the achilles tendon of my left ankle, and even though I've been resting it and icing it, it doesn't seem to be getting any better. The doc says rest and ibuprofen, so obviously I've been doing nothing of the sort. Idiot. This week I'm determined not to do any excercise on it, and so far (since Friday) I've only been swimming with the nevvies - which I'm sure doesn't count.

I had my course at the weekend. Yawnsville. The test was hard, the days long, and my patience wore thin - but I'd much rather know the things we're learning than not. Knowledge is fun. Learning is rubbish.

Over the course of the weekend I stayed with Koios and Protagoras, in their spare room. On Saturday I joined in a pre-planned dinner party with Ceegar and Meeper, for which Koios had spent much of the day preparing. Unfortunately, she then dropped a bottle of wine on her foot. Much drama followed, with Pro carrying her onto the couch where she set up a caterwauling of impressive proportions - increasing the volume every time she looked at her blackening toenails. After a while, when the pain hadn't subsided, I was pretty sure she'd broken it, but delicately suggested Pro didn't take her to A&E as all they'd do was keep her waiting for hours, then give her pain killers and strap one toe to the other - if anything at all. Instead she took ibuprofen, put ice on it, and managed to get through the evening like a trooper. I remember when I cracked my middle toe playing hockey. God it was sore. It didn't help that I kept playing hockey on it and made it swell up like the fecking Goodyear Blimp, or that I saved a goal shot at me by our county-playing centre forward and it struck me squarely on the injured party. That certainly brought tears to my eyes!

Next day I got a text saying she'd fractured the second toe, had the blood drained from under her nails, and that it's going to take 6 weeks to heal. Poor Koi. So sore! At least it's not the big or little toe - but that's scant consolation. And at least she managed to save the bottle of wine from smashing. Good to know she has her priorities correct. After all, she has 9 other toes, and there were only 4 bottles of wine.

Back home on Sunday night, we were soon joined by visiting Islander, Sister and sons. Sister was having a scan in Ninewells to check the wean is all well and good. It was a great visit - very relaxed, with the boys happy and charming , if sleepless. I particularly enjoyed watching Wrecker race into the garder like Elmer Fudd, calling the rabbits.

"Rabbits!" he called, bending to look beneath the Laurel hedge. "Raaaaabits!"

He obviously hoped they'd come hopping over to him like in a Disney film. Very sweet. Gemmill was in good form, too - very chatty, not too many bouts of angry crying, and easy to entertain. We took them swimming - as mentioned - and splashed around in the Olympia toddler pool very merrily. Then to the DCA for lunch, which was, frankly, very poor indeed. The food was either bland and tasteless or soused in tinned sauces. It also takes forever to come. That's the last time we're going there.

Sister, Islander and the boys then went to the hospital to see the scan. The babe is about 14 weeks old, due at the beginning of December, and has been nicknamed 'Foggy.' Gemmill was 'Blobby' because he was large and immobile when scanned, while Wrecker was 'Little Baby Jumping' (LBJ). You see the theme ...

After the scan we then took the boys home, after stopping briefly at Sensation to see Robox - who was charging, but got switched on just for the boys. Then home for a movie (Aladdin) and the opportunity for Wrecker to fall into a deep slumber for an hour and half, much to the chagrin of Sister when she returned who knew he'd then not sleep. Which, indeed he didn't. He was up until around 11pm, and even my serenading him on the guitar for what seemed like hours, singing about naughty Kate the sheepdog chasing a sheep onto a rock and brave Wrecker wading out to save it only to get trapped on the same rock and having to be rescued by Daddy and then going home for breakfast and pancakes, didn't make him drop off. Shocker.

They all left only a few hours ago, which is giving us the opportunity to chill out and recharge before getting into the nitty gritty of moving house. We're awaiting the papers to find out when D-Day is, and then we'll have to put things in action.

Enough. Am bored of this blogging lark.