This week I have been training with one eye on this week end’s “Bosses du Soleil”. I was aiming to do the shorter course as it’s pretty hilly (English understatement). However, I’ve been unable to shake off the congestion in my lungs despite caving in and resorting to some tablets from the pharmacy. By and large, I try to avoid all medicinal remedies. The congestion is clearing, but not quickly enough and I still sound like a granny who smokes 60 Woodbines a day.
My beloved has today returned from a whirlwind transatlantic trip suffering from laryngitis, so we’re both feeling a wee bit sorry for ourselves. The “Bosses du Soleil” might be a couple of bosses too many. In addition, the weather has turned very humid and it is looking as though a storm might be brewing. We’ll just have to see tomorrow morning.
This is doubly bad news as my kid sister arrives this evening for a long week end. If there’s so much as a cloud in the sky during her trip I will be held personally responsible. Yes, any time my family come to visit, they hold me totally culpable for any bad weather. Bad weather being defined by them as anything other than brilliant sunshine. This seems a little harsh but you have to understand that a holiday without adequate tanning time is no holiday at all. Indeed, my two sisters would represent Great Britain in the sun tanning Olympics, if there was one, and would, in all probability, win gold medals for their country. I am lighting candles as I type.
My sister is coming with her partner whom I have yet to meet. He works in my old stomping grounds and, as a consequence, we know a number of people in common. My sister has met many of them and, when introduced, they inevitably enquire what I am now doing. She tells them that I spend most of my time cycling. She says that she can tell from their facial expressions they’re having a very, very hard time picturing me on a bike, let alone in lycra.