My weekend was exceptional, as always. My health, however, is not. The journey home undid all the good work that a weekend of rest, pasta and sex had done and by the time I returned last night (very, very much later than planned - thanks, National Rail...) I felt like a pile of mouldy leaves that just wanted to sit quietly in the corner and be compost.
But thanks to Y, the weekend was as fantastic as ever. I may always say that, but that's because it's always true. Where but with Y can I do impressions of talking salt pots, take walks planned out so that we're never more than 2 minutes from a handy bus stop, spend hours discussing our first sightings of Liv Tyler in the fantastic video to Crazy many years ago and laugh like crazy as you use a pretend insect spray to kill a swarm of pretend Moths? :)
I would like to write a whole run down of my weekend because so many funny things happened (Oh, and there was plenty of sex as well...) but unfortunately I'm not at top typing capacity because I managed to pull a muscle in my arm taking the charity shop's takings to the bank today. I know that sounds pathetic but there was �800 in change in that bag! Blimey, have you any idea how many fiddly little bags it takes to carry all that to the bank?! I did enjoy the actual banking part though - the bank was the coolest place I had been into for weeks and I wanted to pitch a tent in the corner and stay there for eternity!
Well, I say that was the coldest place.... my train yesterday was actually cooler. Hard to believe, I know. Usually when you're on a train in this heat you fry and wait for someone to order a well-done Miranda steak with chips and a fried egg. But these new Virgin trains have very good air conditioning. Very good. Too good.... Erm, I would not have felt out of place kitted out for the Antarctic.
The first 20 minutes or so were lovely - nice and cool, it was a novelty to not be sweating. And then it occurred to you that you were actually starting to shiver. I found myself covered with goose-pimples and had to put my thick cardigan on! All around, you could see people doing the same and commenting, "Brr, it's a bit parky in here...." and finally someone admitted that there was a problem with the air conditioning and free teas were laid on for anyone complaining about the cold. People on platforms must have thought we were absolutely barmy, them looking in at us as their red cheeks and sweat-covered brows frowned while they fanned themselves with their tickets, and us peering out with our coats wrapped around our legs and icicles hanging from our noses.
Though all of that is nothing compared to what I saw this morning. I must say, my days have been sadly lacking since the strange disappearance of Running Man. I've not seen him since the day that he missed his train and - quite frankly - I'm begining to fear for the poor chap. But today I saw something worse. Weirder. The strangest thing I have ever seen, perhaps.
I'd already made my morning journey to work and was about to stop off in the town centre for a rest and to text Y, when suddenly I saw a naked man running across the road, with only a small, fluffy dog to cover his modesty. My mouth fell open. The dog's was doing much the same. I looked all around for cameras, feeling sure it must have been some kind of a set up (or maybe a streaker at crufts??) but I saw none. In a way it's more disturbing if it's not a candid camera-style moment because the thought of a man actually wanting to run naked through the street, covering himself up with a dog, is just about too much to stand for one girl, I'm afraid.
If you ever see a small blonde in a red dress looking in horror at a naked man with dog-pants on a TV clips show, then you know who to tell.
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