Moor thoughts

It would have been Ian's 34th birthday today.

Fluffs birthday was traditionally the first barbie of the summer back home in Jersey.  The weather generally played the game.  One memorable year when it did end up raining I arrived to find a crowd huddled, partly undercover, in the Atkinson Family Gazebo - a mighty construction, which was predominantly full of windsurfing kit. Nearby was a bbq with a can of Heineken Export on it, so I wandered over to drink it.  Thing was, the barbie was lit and the can was red hot.  It was a real struggle to open the ring pull of  a cold one with burnt finger tips. That was a great party.  I think that was the year we took up skipping and trashed the grass, and Ma Atko found beer in the tumble dryer a few days later. It was in there because the fridge was full of beer and we didn't have anywhere else logical to put it. 

Today, was a different day.  In my little world it was the day that I had secretly been saving up for: my first outdoor run on the Town moor.  That's the lump of grass and cows between my house and the start of the Great North Run.  It was overcast and rained a bit but that was fine.

It went well.  I managed to get round my little 5.24K course I had plotted on my computer in 32 mins 17 secs.  It hurts more now I am home than it did at the time.  I also tried out my new running tights, which I am suspiciously enthusiastic about.  The wife thought I looked less daft than she had feared.  My son seemed genuinely troubled and told me I looked silly.  The youth of today!  Outrageous.  Actually, I hope I find my sons beer in the tumble dryer one year.  It will have meant he had a great party.  But if it's my malt, there will be big trouble.