soft lad sleep's in

Day 354 Wednesday 19th December 10.1 miles : miles to date 2374.2 Philip Horan put a shout out earlier on the internet looking for some company. He also wanted someone to run with, so we set up a time for an 8 miler. Forty minutes before the off, the sensitive soft lad, called to say he was pulling out as it was raining (no jokes please). Rain in England in the winter. Who would have thought it? I took pity on the pour soul and told him I wouldn't hold it against him (again no jokes please) and he should tuck himself up in a nice warm, snuggly wuggly blankie. I set off a bit later in, er, the dry from Clophill and proceeded to run through around five villages, keeping it slow and steady in the, er, dry before heading over to soft lad's hood (apologies, young person's speak for urban dwelling area). At around the seven mile mark, I ran past his house. I decided against calling in to make sure he was wrapped up in cotton wool, as it was gone 9pm and I assumed he was tucked up with his teddy. Or wearing his wife's. Being the real man's, man's man that I am, I headed off into the darkness for a few extra miles, finally before forced back through lack of food all day and in need of a beer, having been tempted by running past literally fourteen pubs and numerous take aways on route. I do feel a tad sorry for the wee fella. Having not run, he missed the best reward possible after a ten miler in the dark and,er, dry. A can of Welsh wine of course in the shower (not the same shower, no jokes please). The amber nectar never tastes better than when mixing it in with cold limbs, hot water and steam. I even felt a tad adventurous tonight. I lathered up the barnet with shampoo and enjoyed half a jar with the sud's still in. Rebel, I know.