run the world…
And whilst a trip to Canary Wharf wouldn’t be anybody’s most people’s first suggestion when deciding where to round off birthday activities, the Winter Lights Walk provided a fitting end to mine, even if wandering around the ever-dystopian cityscape for an hour and a half in the dark (and in January) didn’t sound like a great idea on paper. But I have never and would never pass up the opportunity for a ride on the DLR, and after as leisurely a stroll as the temperature permitted I was very glad I gave it a chance.
This week – as annually demonstrated by the snowdrops at the bottom of the Walkie Talkie – has reverted back to almost-Spring, thankfully for the heating bills! Despite the conditions, tomorrow brings my first London Winter Run for three years and with it the accompanying prayers for cold dry weather (I think the last time I did it it was minus 2, which was perfect) and no shenanigans from my dodgy back, or at least nothing that a couple of decent painkillers and a Crosstown donut or three won’t fix.
I have have had a couple of mini practices as well as my usual week-in-week-out regime at the gym, not to mention three weeks of Hyrox training which has by turn made me want to cry, puke and jump up and down (and there’s another nine weeks to go) so fingers crossed for a personal best. That would be the personal best I always plan to aim for, and then get overexcited on the day and lose at least a minute or two waving at spectators and hi-fiving giant huskies and penguins on the way round, but by then it never matters. The completely unnecessary but wholly enjoyable carb loading has started in earnest, and will likely continue for a couple of hours yet.
The week ahead is looking straightforward but busy; I will be setting off earlier than usual on Friday and there are a couple of evenings out in the offing, but the remainder of the week is all as it should be. After looking on in horror at the prices of first Madonna and now Beyoncé tickets, nights in are likely to be the norm for a while, although the posters for the ABBA thing out at Stratford are drawing me in every time I get on the Northern line, and I suspect resistance is futile (plus I have many sequinned clothes that don’t get aired often enough AND it means another ride on the DLR. Hmm). Maybe once it warms up a bit more…
Song Of The Week, alongside the title, was going to be a celebration of the shiny tickets I had to see Queen B herself, but not at those prices – long standing readers will remember that I already had my turn almost ten years ago (back when £4.80 for a plastic pint was outrageous to the point of barely acceptable), so I will be gracefully sitting this one out and the song can stay anyway in the spirit of tomorrow. And neither of us have aged a day!
More soon! And I will try to leave the huskies alone this year.
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