Tales from the brown side.

Hello reader, if indeed you are a reader,

You are still stuck with me as Sarah is lounging about at home like the misfit she is, and with no one to speak to my blogs are going to get more and more strange and scatological. A friend of mine describes August as a wicked month, and I see her point. There is no one good around to email as everyone is on holiday, and work dies off a bit. Since I am one of a dwindling number of people who can be bothered to come into the office this month, this leaves me with no one to talk to, nothing to do and my only outlet into the world rambling into this blog. Which, very probably, no one reads.

Four and a half miles tonight and as the mileage creeps up, my thoughts turn to Poo Stage, and when it will rear it’s turtle’s head. I expect it will be like finally reaching Nirvana or enlightment (although more messy and evil smelling) and come with a tremendous sense of achievement.

Sarah tells me that its around the 8 mile mark, so if all staying on track, I should be running round London with a load in my pants in a matter of weeks. I’m imagining all sorts of Gambling and Losing scenarios, particularly ones where I have put it all on brown.

I’m BORED!