We lost. We lost the Big Match. I think I'll be creative in the movie and let us win though, for the sake of the feel-good factor. We did work really hard though, and I'm sure this is what all losers say but we were robbed slightly. I threw myself on to and under (as is the way of rugby) the bodies of some gargantuan opposition (no offence to our worth adversories UCLWRFC, you are what you are, and heaven knows I'm no supermodel myself) I had a few knocks to the head (as seems to be my way) and after 80 minutes hard graft stepped off the pitch to a deep swig of a well deserved pint, following which I promptly vomited. There was no walk, but I certainly sweated like I'd done one. You should have seen me out there, it was probably enough to make anyone sick.
Saturday morning then I woke up feeling like I'd been run over by a truck (again no offence UCLWRFC) my neck hurt so much it felt like it was part of a seperate body, and my arms and legs were refusing to co-operate with either me or each other too. Although I couldn't bring myself to a walk, I loaded up on posh painkillers to get myself into a pair of heels for KCL Law Society's annual ball. There was free champagne, and as the painkillers started to wear off I'l admit I made the most of it.
Sunday morning saw an early start for me, there was to be no time for a walk as I had to hot foot it to King's Lynn to get to Farmer Freds Play Barn with Marty and his son. Normally I wouldn't mention this (lord knows I try to keep mentions of Marty to a minimum) but for the fact that far from the chirpy fun house its name makes it seem, Farmer Freds is in fact a hellish torture chamber, particularly for those nursing champagne hangovers from the day before, and incredible rugby aches and pains from the day before that. Great fun was of course had by all, but scrambling around the obstacle course that it was, I'd have taken a 6 mile walk any day.
Today then I started my walk irritable to say the least. University admin (wonderful as it is) let me down all morning, and with legs still in protest to excersise after the weekend, passers by today witnessed me at my grumpy stomping best. It's also been very windy in London today, and the streets of the Isle Of Dogs all seemed to have turned themselves into wind tunnels, with me having to walk into the wind of course. To make matters worse there was also a stone in one of my shoes. Today was not a good day. Luckily the streets were fairly empty, and aside from the wind and my own bad mood there was nothing standing between me and a lovely walk. And that stone, that was rather in the way too. I threw some venom into my stomps though, and spurred on by a text from dad clocking in his time at 1 hour 40 minutes, despite adverse conditions natural and man made completed my route in 1 hour 15. Hopefully tomorrow the wind will be gone, I'll have an early night and my grumpy cross patch mood will be gone, I can put the rollercoaster of a weekend behind me, get that stone out of my shoe, and enjoy myself.
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