So I leave work spitting yesterday - mad at everyone, frustrated at the world. Get home and go for a run with Stevo through Dunkeld. I didn't even cough up blood/die/pass out!!! And I haven't run more than 4 metres in a year. I was wheezing like a bitch on the way back, and I'm certain I've pulled a groin muscle - which is rather uncomforatble - and I can hardly walk this morning, but nevertheless I survived! It actually felt quite good. Steve took me out to dinner in Greenside. This is where Richard lives - so was pretty conscious of everyone walking past, staring into other restaurants to check if he was there - in fact I thought I saw him at one stage, and nearly balked, but wasn't him. I ordered a salad. A SALAD. How serious and responsible about my weight am I? We ate a Fratellis, sat outside. Was actually so nice. The last time I was at Fratelli's, loooong ago - September last year to exact - Richard was begging me to be his girlfriend. This time was much better. We are trying to organise a week in Amsterdam sometime in June. Let's hope it works.
Anyway cazn't walk properly today. It looks as though there is a carrot thrust up my backside. Yet, I am a health guru now. Me=Health. I also missed R last night. Will I ever forget him?