This week was a little bit tougher than planned:
͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ | M | Tue | W | Th | F | Sa | Su | TOT | ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ | 3.9 | | 5 | 3 | | 8 | | 19.9| ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞ ͞
It really irks me to not see a 20 at the end but I refuse to round it up.
Monday’s run was the first time in years of running I ever had to walk halfway through my circuit. I ended up turning around and running home. My legs just wouldn’t work.
I went back and thought about the last time I was training so much, and the only thing that was different was the I was cycling to work everyday. My legs were certainly sore, but they didn’t hurt the way they have done recently.
So I dragged the bike out of hibernation and started using it again, and the legs already feel a little bit better.
In other news, someone brought a book about birthdays into work the other day. I read it for a laugh and was not happy to find it full of astrology, but for what it’s worth I am allegedly birthday twins with Edith Head and Isaac Merritt Singer, although different sources give him a different birthday.
I guess that explains a few things.
In sewing news, on Tuesday night I made a toile (the French word that’s English for muslin) for a pair of trousers from La Mia Boutique May 2012.
I had just heard some worrying news from Italy and was struggling to concentrate, so my first attempt at the side and inner seams ended up looking like a skirt.
I ripped and started again and this time ended up with a fabulous monstrosity that I could only describe as one buttock with two legs dangling from it.
I didn’t take a picture of it -it was so gruesome that the lens on my camera would have probably broken anyway- so you have to take my word for it. I decided to name it The Unicrotch and carry it in my heart forever.
The toile ended up more or less alright, although I really need to learn to mark my wrong and right sides when they are not obvious. I am now working on another Unicrotch:
Tomorrow is a public holiday here in the UK so I plan to source a grey zipper, finish these off and then no more sewing for the day since The hovel in which I fester is no longer an amusing hyperbole to describe Palais Joynson and I do need to do some housework.
The rest of the weekend was spent running, having a very bad experience with Neue Mode 22098, feeling more or less sick / hungry / thirsty / worried and watching Salmon Fishing In The Yemen, because it’s a well-known fact that any illness can be alleviated by two hours of Ewan McGregor and a giant bucket of Sprite.
The film is very, very fluffy. It start out Love-Actually awful, but it does pick up as the story unfolds. Kristin Scott Thomas is outstanding and saves the whole movie from being a mere fluff-fest. She even makes a reference to The Wire that made me laugh out loud in the cinema.
If you are a fan of a certain statistic relating to Mr McGregor’s filmography, I can confirm that this movie falls firmly in the “no-wang” column of the spreadsheet.
There is a lot of footage of fish, which is always a winning combination with Ewan McGregor (Daffodils!), and some scenes reminded me of when I was a child and my Dad used to spend a lot of time on fish farms.
There is more running planned for tomorrow, as well as a long-ish bike ride, so night night cyberspace!
