This weekend was the grand national. Fifi joined in selecting horses for the race. She went for Black Apache and Deep Purple.
Her horses didn’t win, they’re probably still running.
I went for a relaxing trot up river on Saturday, just a couple of miles.
And then on Sunday I headed down stream to the water parks in Chorlton and Sale.
About a mile and half into the run I passed a tramp. A proper, wild grey-haired, big bearded, leather hatted tramp. He looked like he’s fallen out of a film, the most tramp-like tramp I’ve seen for years. And as I passed he held up his hands, as if to say ‘it’s ok, I’m harmless’. Isn’t that sad? That old men feel it necessary to signal their lack of threat? I waved; I have and say good morning to everyone, it’s my rule.
First stop, Chorlton Water Park where I stopped to take this picture, forgot to turn off my garmin for a minute and had my senses assaulted by a fisherman cooking bacon. So unfair! I had three miles to go and all I could think was ‘full English’.
See that blue figure in the distance? That is a lady runner coming into Sale Water Park who must have been at least 70. She had neat, grey bobbed hair and was moving at quite a lick. Those are stones across a brook she’s just nipped across.
Sale Water Park was surprisingly quiet, possibly due to it being freezing, but I saw one brave soul water skiing as I ran round.
And then I was running home. Very glad to get home after what was more like nine miles once I’d got back to Northenden.
It takes me an age to bath, stretch and pull myself into any shape for Sunday socialising, but with the promise of a meal I trotted up to Didsburyto meet Mr M and had tea at cafe Rouge. French onion soup, boeuf bourguignon with dauphinoise potatoes followed by cheese, all washed down with two glasses of delicious house red. Perfect end to a relaxing weekend. Probably not on Paula Radcliffe’s nutrition plan, no.
Though Fifi picking a winner at Aintree would have been nice.
Nice pics
I’ve discovered instagram. Fun