Saturday 11 August 2012: The Old Ways
1. After I hear that my plans have changed, the start is sluggish but good fun. Today is all about cleaning and tidying. I pitch in, kind of - I give my support in kind.
2. After breakfast housework kicks in and it's not til quite far in that we feel the heat filling the room and the sunshine flooding in and wise up. We grab the rug and nip over to lie in the park and catch the sun while we can.
3. It comes and goes but we grab this photo while the sun is out.
4. A bit of a stroll then after meatballs for dinner we turn our heads to the Olympics. Like lots of folk, I imagine, we are on our feet watching Mo Farah. Punching the air.
5. My dad would have loved this - the athletics mainly, but the whole shebang. Hearing all those Ethiopian names reminded me of being wee - summer holidays, the Olympics on (the gymnastics over so my interest gone) and finding out why everyone was seemingly called Selassie and him repeatedly trying to explain pacemakers to me (I still struggle with the concept) and it brought back how much he liked those long and middles distance races. Brendan Foster said this was the best moment in British athletics in his lifetime. I wish it had been in dads.