Well, the new arrival has still yet to arrive, so I have left Jim with instructions to return the scales to Boots and declare them to be a failure in their own lunch hour.
In the mean time, it's time for an early poop, following a really rather entertaining meeting with Dafydd Davis(who is an expensive trail builder who has received an MBE for his work with the FC - can you imagine?) at the Nobody Inn last night (where they have whiskeys which cost £80 a shot and some which are hundreds and hundreds of pounds a bottle) which, after it had calmed down, was very informative and should help us press on with the Haldon Freeride project.
Anyway, you don't care about cycling, you're all about the scat, so: 13st 13.5lbs on the office scales, where the Finance Director is cladding a wheelchair in cardboard boxes, inconveniently close to the bathroom scales.
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I am having a poo
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When I go to wash my hands,n with the dispensed liquid soap on them, I find that the tap has jammed fast. I like to think I am a fairly strong chap, you know, opening pickle jars and pushing cars and other manly activities which rhyme with stars, so I give it what we scatologists like to call 'some welly'. As the washer gives up its last holds on the threads I caught my thumbnail on the sink with enough force to fold it in half on itself and the results included a heady mix of blood and profanity.
Millie cut me a small piece of envelope label to use as a plaster (we have plasters in the kitchen, so I can only assume this was out of some desire for craft) and apparently has some children's scissors, as I am left with a small thumb hat in the style of Beattie.
Anyway, the number you are looking for is 1 as I weigh back in at 13st 12.5lbs.
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