Allarming night’s sleep

I’ve actually had two terrible night’s sleep as I sit and write this, but I wish to ignore last night & talk about the one before.

In amongst the myriad dreams and awakenings, I found myself running down the road with the Bok.  I knew I was dreaming because each time my legs started to hurt, I reminded myself I was still asleep and the pain went away.  Several times he disappeared ahead and each time I remembered my somnolence, pushed harder and caught up again. Quite strange.

The Bok is a very sharp cookie.  For two or three stiles on the trot, I arrived first and on reaching the far side ran off without waiting, giving me a good few yards head-start, which I might add, I need!  He didn’t let me reach the fourth stile first, nor any of the remaining ones, disappearing ahead with more vigour each time!

We headed out past Ote Hall and to the north of Wivelsfield where we found the Llamas above… they were SO funny, their fringes cut in what I can only describe as a very haute couture style… for a humble floor mop.  Each time I see them I remember my disbelief when luscious Debbs first told me they were there.  I know that they are really ole-packhams or something, but pyjama-llamas seem so much more fun!

We dropped into the centre of Wivelsfield and past the school.  The Bok likes to run through the school car-park where the footpath goes, while I favour the oncoming traffic along the road.  I waited until there were some trees separating us and I put in a quick sprint, slowing again by the time he could see me. 

This tactic meant that I arrived just ahead at the start of Hundred Acre Lane, which is a gentle hill that leads out of the village.  Here I reminded myself that I was still laying in bed and since it didn’t hurt, I pushed the pace a little.  About halfway up the hill my ploy was rewarded with an extremely gratifying beep-beep beep-BEEP!  Followed by a duplicate that belied the pain that the Bok was experiencing.

I gave a triumphant cheer… and increased my pace a little, knowing that he had nothing left and arrived at the top of the hill some distance ahead.  Maybe I wasn’t really dreaming… I was hurting now too!

After a short walk of recovery, we swooped down the trails through the wood and along to the industrial estate.  We took the magical path along towards the development site that used to be the sleepy St George’s Retreat, down across the Common and back towards the house.

As we approached the last stretch of road I sensed that the Bok was going to stretch his legs and get his own back and unfortunately I had little sleep left in me.  I pushed as hard as I could and though he was a little ahead at the end, it wasn’t the rout that he (and I) expected!

As we staggered past my neighbour, who looked on in mild amusement, the Bok delivered the statistics from the mighty bok-watch.  7.09 miles in one hour and two minutes.  A Sterling performance, one that he reckons is our fastest, certainly in the near distant past.  Only 6.86mph, but mixed in with a number of short walks were several significant stretches where we were running four minute km’s… he might remind me what the actual number was… you know how difficult it is to remember your dreams once you’ve woken up.