f4f3 | Walking Spanish

Had to prise myself out of bed this morning to get to the gym. I really need a Wallace and Grommit style mechanism to tilt me upright. It wasn't helped by a night of strange dreams, with cameo appearances from almost everyone I know. Sorry if I dragged you out of something interesting to join me on a train ride to Fort William.

I did make it to the gym, though, and bashed out 25 minutes on the cross-trainer. Not as good as Wednesday (I managed to break the 400 calories in 30 minutes barrier for the first time since I started back - I think that's only 10% or so down on my best of last year) but still worth doing. I had a bit of a buzz which got me through a potentially tricky meeting this morning. Maybe I should go at lunchtime to get me through this afternoon's meeting.
This weekend was to have been a lazy weekend away, but due to dog-minding issues it's now a lazy weekend at home. I'm looking forward to doing some normal stuff, like getting to the cinema, hanging pictures, and doing 100 loads of washing.

It was my son's 21st birthday yesterday, and I'm feeling a bit weird about not having shared it with him. Part of the dreamscape last night was an encapsulation of some of his other birthdays, and I woke up with the sort of nostalgia that you can never really escape, for times gone by, and for people who just got swept along or away on the tide of years.

And like that.