I didn’t get enough sleep last night because one of the ladies, the smaller one, from Yorkshire, had an unaccountable fixation on waking me up repeatedly. I went to bed earlier than usual for the express prupose of getting more sleep, and somebody exploded that plan from midnight on.
Continued arctic weather (I mean, ‘from the arctic’, not ‘actually comparable to the climate of the arctic’) has kept the ground frosty at best, icy at worst, which slows my morning pace significantly, accounting in part for my slow-ish pace for my miles. The rest of the accounting — apart from ‘still an old, not very fit guy’ — involves a warning bark from my right Achilles tendon. I do not reckon I can afford to ignore warnings from either of my Achilles tendons, so I dialled down my speed for the last half mile. At any rate, I got the miles in, and literally nobody cares about the time. Coffee, fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, coffee, toast, finishing up some parish business, then possibly some reading. Did I mention that I finished The Last Essay?