Battery chickens

One of the reasons for writing this blog in the first place was to encourage me to run.  And visa versa. 

So the test is whether I can continue writing even though I’ve not had a run, or been to see a play or a film, or finished one of the books I’m reading.

I went to an interesting dinner the other evening, set in a Dickensian London in the vaults beneath London Bridge Station.  The layout was rather good and although most of the brickwork was already there (it holds the station off the ground!) the mock shops, bars and snugs fitted right in.  The actors were what made the evening for me, each dressed in period costume and playing quite deep roles with tremendous verve, whilst dry ice added to the atmosphere.  We’ll skip mentioning the food other than to say that I think most people on our table wished they had skipped the food… oh and that the tall cylindrical portions of chicken fricassee clearly looked as if they had come from battery chickens.  How glad I was for having chosen the seasonal (?) salmon.

Part way through the evening the dry ice started to affect my throat and despite escaping at a reasonable hour (the last trains heading South from the capital are timed to truncate any London outing early) I was too late.  Two working days of sore throat and headaches have now been followed by a weekend relaxing at home, trying to recover for a busy week ahead.  So as you can imagine and despite it being a beautifully sunny day, a run didn’t seem to fit into that programme.

With the heating on gently in the background, I had not even appreciated the temperature outside until I noticed that the water that our neighbours had washed their car with had frozen solid in rivulets across our drive.  Brrrrr! 

I am hopeful that I’ll be sufficiently recovered for a midweek run, but in the meantime, winter drawers on!