Under the bridge

Morning
Yesterday, I asked the guy at the desk how far it was around the reservoir. "About ten and a half miles" he replied. This morning, I set off to run 'round. The first two and a half miles, just down to the car park, were fine. The next mile was tricky; a path made of large stones, sticking out of the ground at odd angles. I wouldn't have fancied walking it, to be honest, let alone run. And then the next four and a half miles was full of all sorts of adventures: uneven paths, muddy tracks, steep climbs, slippy descents. It was a hell of a run and a dumb one to do a few weeks before a marathon. My only excuse is my optimism that there would be a proper path. The last three miles were fine, though, even if I was far enough behind schedule that the Minx came out in the car looking for me.

Midday
I was back in time to shower and have breakfast, before we went out to find somewhere to work. The Minx had a place in mind but it was closed, although she got chatting to the owner while I was on the phone and he recommended a café nearby, where we did some work and had lunch. After that the Minx went to look around the eccentric looking village shop while I went down on to the nearly dry riverbed and walked along, going under the bridge.

Afternoon
One of the reasons for this trip was so that I could see if I could get restarted on my novel. Guys, I wrote 1289 words.

Evening
I finally lost it with Marlon James' ‘A History Of Seven Killings’, this evening. I've been stuck on this book for three weeks: I've made it to page 42. After a small hissy fit and tossing the book aside, I realised that it was the *tiny* font that was doing my head in. It's so small I can only read it with my glasses on in good light. I'm no quitter; I will download it so I can read it in large font on the Kindle. 


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No scales
1289 words
(Just about) reading: ‘A History Of Seven Killings’ by Marlon James