Caption: How I look in a phone shop
Quite a busy day, and lengthy.
Up at 5 this morning to get out to the studios of Original FM in time for my radio debut and chance to blab on about running the marathon.
I think it went okay, the three people I know who listened, including the presenter, seemed to think I didn't sound like a complete arse, so that's good.
They are going to send me the audio clip so I can post it on this site, so you've no reason to miss the unmissable, as they say.
Some good news from Marc, who has up to this point had to take things easily because of a dodgy back, as he has now decided to run the London Marathon as well.
This is great, as we can hopefully keep each other going through those bleak winter months of training, which is pretty much now until the run.
Some goodish news at Weight Watchers as I am the same weight as I was last week, 16st and a half pound, so not gained any, but had hoped to lose some.
Had a good run along the beach at Weston on Saturday, went out for an hour, apparently at the same time some bloke on jet skis was sinking into the sand off the coast, after trying to jetski from Wales.
Luckily we missed the carnage of the motocross the next day.
But most impressed with myself for getting out to run this evening. There was a definite chill in the dark air, but I was brave, and did my 30 minutes.
I was however less than impressed by the spotty nerks that pass for sales assistants these days.
I was passing through the city centre and thought I'd pop into my local Orange shop for some information about when they get the iPhone, as I'm quite keen to get one. In fact, more excited than when I got the Millennium Falcon for my birthday when I was ten, and I even skived a day off school that day.
But shortly after entering the store I found myself standing there in the middle of the shop like a member of a lost Amazonian forest tribe, who'd accidentally stumbled into the middle of the set of Blade Runner. It seemed as if it would be far too much like arseache for any of the 12-year-olds huddled around the till fornicating over the lastest piece of telecoms hardware like it was x-rated porn, to even register my existence.
Is this what service has come to in this country? Basically we don't care that you're stood waiting like an idiot who's lost his village because we have more customers than we can count spots on our foreheads and one more grumpy old git who thinks it's vaguely amusing to say 'I just want to make phone calls', when asked what sort of features he wants on this most advanced piece of technological innovation, can in all honesty shove it up his lardy arse.
Well, that was what went through my head, so I thought it best to leave. Little did they know how easily a fool like me is parted with several hundred quid in exchange for a phone that makes a sound like a light sabre when you shake it in front of the ever-decreasing circle of friends who still find that amusing in their mid-30s.
There's always running I guess, you can't go wrong with that.
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