A morning off and I had decided that it was timeto hit the woods again. Been that busy recently that have not got any exercise done. My weight lingers sullenly around 13/9 to 13/12, there's been no significant downward trend for months now. And someone keeps bringing treats into the house. Hot Cross bloody buns are unmissable, and my no butter policy, for so long the mainstay of the weight loss programme is in tatters.
On the way to the kids' schools I note I have left my wallet behind. It's a good enough excuse to abandon the ramble. A few spots of rain twists the knife on it.
Scarcely caring for all this, the strains of La Marseillaise hang on the Windsor wind. Sarkozy has decided that the entente must move past cordiale, and onto variously amicale or formidable. the British red tops decide for once not to mount blitzkrieg on brother frog, and start a bit of a love in. The reason: A a rapprochment on Ango Franco defence/european/agricultural policy? Yeah of course. Sarko has ditched La Patronne, hitched up with some model bint who's previously graced their pages it would seem and now they want a part of her. Fraternite and Egalite can wait. It's time to take libertes!
The evening rifts into a lethargic mulch, until no better idea than bed can be thought of. In between times the Anglo French summit is replayed at the Stade de France, where England, after a magnificent one game unbeaten run under new Messaih Capello, get back to losing ways. A year before they're caling for his head and he wals off with a £10 million quid pay off?
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