Fitting too much in

We stayed up late last night watching comedy on the television, when really I should have had an early night. This morning we dragged ourselves upright and took our daughter for her swimming lesson. Last week she howled for half an hour, but this week, despite it being chillier and raining, she was quite happy to be in the water, kicking her legs as we persuaded her to pursue a small plastic ball. The extra sleep she had on the way to class probably helped.

Not learning from her example, we didn’t go back to bed, but instead met up with an old friend of mine from university, who’d recently moved to Hong Kong, and was in town for the weekend.
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Singing, and things

Today El Capitan sang at me, a curious song which involved my name and a two syllable word. I can’t remember anything else about it, which is amusing, as El Capitan was adamant that by singing this over and over again, he’d be guaranteed to be written about, as the song would be the most interesting part of my day. He didn’t reckon with my sleep-deprivation induced amnesia robbing me of all knowledge of the last 12 hours.
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There’s no such thing as a free dinner

I went out for a meal this evening, telling my wife I’d be home by eight. About nine, we were still eating (an ok cup of ice cream for me, but nothing wonderful). My wife texted me to see where I was. I promised I’d be home soon. We went for beers. I protested that I needed to be home. We had more beer. I tried to get a taxi. Singapore’s taxi drivers refused to come and take me home. I arrived home at 11, three hours later than intended.
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Quiet night in

My wife is out enjoying herself with human beings that don’t merely treat her as a milk receptacle, my child is sound asleep in her room, and I’m on the sofa, furiously hammering away on my laptop, trying to catch up with work. It’s strange that I can get more stuff done at home when it’s quiet than in the office, especially when it’s not really quiet at home: for no apparent reason, there’s an incredibly loud concert going on downstairs somewhere, wobbly, off-key vocals floating up through our windows, accompanied by just-a-little-bit-too-inept musicianship. It must be a bad sign that after two years of this, it feels normal and hardly distracting at all. Continue reading “Quiet night in”

More track time

There’s no rest for the wicked: this evening I got home from the office, changed into my shiniest running kit, then went back to the track. Tomorrow I’m staying in all night and minding the baby while my wife gets out of her mind on syrup and blows the whole joint up*, and I’m quite looking forward to sitting on the sofa and expending as little energy as possible. But tonight is another session of speed work, the last one before the race this weekend.

(Note that I say "weekend" because I’m now really not sure if it takes place on Saturday or Sunday morning. What _is_ it like to be organized?)
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Compressed, not faster

I tried out my new blue socks properly this evening, by taking a trip to the Bukit Timah Stadium (the technically correct, but slightly overblown name for a running oval and a few tennis and basketball courts. I did a couple of warm up laps, trying to avoid treading on any of the enormous moths that have descended on Singapore, and then put in a 5k.
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