Louise is flying to Spain on Sunday to spend the week with her Dad, he’s a wee bit under the weather at the moment and is thoroughly looking forward to seeing his baby girl. His baby girl is equally excited, if not moreso.

What that means is that I have a week to myself, a week in which I will, no doubt, develop my own routine free from any need to be considerate. Whilst I will miss my darling wife whilst she is away, if I’m really honest I will enjoy a week of ‘freedom’. I’ve only ever lived on my own for a couple of months, but didn’t really appreciate it at the time (for a variety of “not good” reasons), so whenever I get the chance to live like a bachelor I tend take full advantage and get into my own routine.

So, from Sunday night it’ll be nothing but booze, burds and bingeing! WOOHOOOO!! I’ve already got the industrial cleaners booked, and they are getting a big fat bonus if they keep their traps shut and ignore anything untoward that is strewn about… drugs, half-naked women, goats…

OK. Not goats.

OHHH OK. Not drugs or half-naked women either.

Alas my middle-aged, middle-class life doesn’t contain such excitement these days. Although if I’m honest it never really contained that many goats in the first place.

Or drugs.

Or half-naked women come to think of it.

(hey, come on, my Mum reads this…)

No, instead I’ll be using this week to establish a new item into my routine. I can hardly wait.

You see, since starting my new job in January, I’ve been getting up around 6 am mainly to avoid the worst of the traffic on my new commute, and have long planned to use the extra time to try going for a run in the morning. I am not a morning person, but as there are showers at work, and the area surrounding the office is reasonably flat (as opposed to the large hill at the top of which I live), it’s an ideal opportunity to up my mileage (kilometreage?).

So yes, I’ll be getting up at 6am prompt and trying to fit in one, or maybe two, extra runs this coming week. That’s the plan at least.

Unless anyone has a goat I can borrow…


  1. I [heart] goats
    We don’t get many goats in East London. Time to move, methinks.

    Gordon I have missed you! I’ve been off-radar for months: personal life went arse over tit (but hey we’re still friends), terrible jobs, general all-round yuckiness. But I’m now freelancing again (having a proper job just didn’t suit) and am gradually getting over the whole love life thing.

    And I’ve even started blogging again. I’ve already piled up the work deadlines, so it may take a while to get back into the daily blog habit, but we’ll see.

    I’ll update my link to you and keep an eye on your posts. Hope all’s well.



  2. Strangely enough Gran has a goat, unfortunately borrowing it might be difficult as it’s a sponsored goat in Africa!
    Hey were we right on the Daisy thing? (or do you need another 2001 comments….)

  3. Hey J! Long time… another link to add to my list, welcome back.

    And yes Mum, I’m sure Mr. Clarke is spinning in his grave..

  4. I can thoroughly recommend morning runs. You will feel virtuous for the rest of the day and if you’re getting up that early anyway, it shouldn’t be too much of a struggle.

    Good luck!

  5. If you mean the esteemed Sir Arthur C.Clarke then he ain’t spinning in his grave – he is alive and well and living in Sri Lanka!!

  6. I used to have a goat. Two to be precise.
    Haven’t got them anymore though.
    So I’m not much use really.

  7. I have a friend currently looking for a home for an out-of-control goat. Out of control in a way that, erm, may suit your purposes perfectly… Shall I pass on your email address?

    PS It’s a boy goat. Does that matter? 😉

  8. Thanks for the offer BW, sadly those days are behind me now..

    Er… I mean.. not that they were ever in FRONT of me… or anything like that..

    P.S. Now, the sex of the goat doesn’t matter. Allegedly.

  9. Alas, I have no goats to give.

    Regarding your feelings about a week alone.. I envy you! I’m lucky when I get a day to pull out the bachelor life card, and even those are wonderful. A week? Bliss. Granted, by the time the week was up I’d be miserable and wanting my wife back, but my intentions at the beginning of the week would be grand, I’m sure.

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