I started my morning run at speed, but my legs were very stiff and my upper legs sore, and as I pushed to get some momentum and limberness, I accidentally did something off-kilter to the timer, so when I noticed halfway through, I just shut it down and took it easy the rest of the way.
Coffee, hot breakfast, Morning Prayer at home.
And a joke at my own expense: last night Margaret was making a late-evening pudding to supplement the Subway GF sub that constituted her railroad dinner, and she handed me the yoghurt to put back into the fridge. I put it back onto the upper shelf (according to the transcendent refrigerator law of ‘Always put items onto the smallest shelf that they’ll fit onto’), but it didn’t quite fit onto the shelf; something further back pushed it off the shelf when I let it go, and I reached back in a flash to catch the falling pot. Sadly… I mishudged the catch, and was just trying to push the (flexible) yoghurt pot back into the fridge, on a shelf — but that had the effect of squashing the (nearly-full) pot against the shelves as it fell, squeezing the pot and spewing yoghurt all over the kitchen. Margaret and I cleaned up, with some laughs and chuckles, but when we came downstairs again later she spotted another splatter of yoghurt… and another… further and further from the fridge. This morning she came downstairs and, standing in the front hall, said ‘I can’t believe the yoghurt reached even here!’ (It hadn’t. She was having a laugh on me. I am expecting to take a walk to church with her, and for her to say as we’re corssing the Iron Bridge, ‘Look! There’s even yoghurt here!’