Creaking joints

Another Monday, another blog entry, the regularity of which will continue until next week when I leave Asco for the last time. Am I sad? Yes and no. I'm not yet excited about starting at Pentagon however curiously. Hopefully the week I have off inbetween will rejuvenate my weary mind and body.

My body particularly feels around 10 years older than normal this morning. Following my first ever cross country race a fortnight ago, yesterday I competed in the next in the series - except this time it was twice the distance.

I did alright (although the muddy hills were causing my legs to burn hotter than hell) and recorded an OK time, but felt curiously lethargic all the way through which made every stride an ordeal. The course being set as 3 laps was just horrible though, I really didn't enjoy the psychological battle each time I approached the killer hill.

Time to forget the freezing weather and get back training outdoors. I need to get some serious miles under my belt before the next event (Nairn 10K a week on Sunday) and eat/drink more healthily too - my diet has been appalling of late.

Due to the event I saw little of Luca yesterday, who joined his Mum at the farm (he wanted to come to the race, but I had no-one to watch him while I ran). However, on Saturday he took part in his usual football training. A hat trick (3 goals) was his impressive total. Bizarrely, he still continually insists he'd prefer to be a goalkeeper. He's a absolutely terrible goalie.

Following our departure from the training we picked up his pal Bertie to Aberdeen for a day out. We first saw "Sammy's Great Adventure" at the cinema (awful, just awful) before moving onto the Maritime Museum (yes, again, I'm not sure how many more times I can take it), a trip to a second hand bookstore and a run around beside the beach before an (absolutely horrible) snack in Asda's cafe.

I was genuinely impressed particularly with Asda's ability to make the chips almost inedible. I mean, seriously, how do you cock up chips?

Lucy, by chips I of course mean fries.

Did I mention Bertie's choice of outfit for our trip? This very blond child (his barnet is an exact replication of Boris Johnson's) turned up at his front door resplendent in a full-body Transformers costume, with legs 3 inches too short for his legs. For some reason the outfit also incorporated a cape.

I insisted he took a very large coat with him. And not because I was worried about him getting cold.

**Useless fact of the day - A peanut is neither a pea nor a nut**