Whatever that means
The 17 miles to work is getting easier to the extent that I was seriously considering skipping the train and cycling home again in the sunshine. At least up to the point where someone suggested, on the flimsiest of pretexts, that a pint would be appropriate. Well, you know me. I’ve never knowingly refused but just one. One and then the train. And then back out to the pub with local mates.\r\n\r\nOther than that, a day of comedy – turning up for a conference that had been two days previously. Marching out of a revolving door that hadn’t actually finished its revolving, straight into a glass wall.\r\n\r\nAnd a plan was hatched – train to Aviemore and cycling home. Hatched in the pub, which is where the most foolish schemes begin.