Some might say I overcommunicate

Based on this morning’s batch of emails, sometimes, I think it’s better that way. There are moments when I really loathe being a Division Commissioner. This was one of them. Last night was another – the potential volunteer I was supposed to me cancelled on me with half an hour’s notice. By that point I was already en route, packed supper in tow, and having eschewed pre-morris-practice sushi with N. I went to the cafe, and had a posh hot chocolate anyhow. With cream. Lots of cream. A veritable featherbed of whipped cream. It was like a Chalet School Story, but with less snow, no doctors, and no-one getting stuck on a mountain.  Joey Bettany was not present, and our One and Only Mary Lou was conspicuous by her absence. This may have been a small mercy. I can’t quite decide.

Went up and down Primrose Hill again this morning. Four times. In the dark. It was dark when I left, dark when I got home, but my heart rate stats looked a lot more sensible than last week. Next run: 8 miles along the canal at the weekend, I think. It was so dark, there were only a couple of dog walkers in the park in addition to the running lunatics. One of the dog walkers had a husky! It’s so grey and cloudy, it makes for really dark mornings, and the sunrise doesn’t really do much for anyone. Dawn’s milky fingers? Well. Not exactly. Too much cloud for that.

And so we go back to packing.



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