Day 11/30 – Pointing. The sports bra of building work.

Or, why is it that big baldy sweaty men will say hello to you, but dainty little things with bouncy ponytails stare straight ahead and blank you.

I digress. We are having some pointing done. We knew that this would happen at some point, but found out yesterday that it had started yesterday when himself got home and found a man up some scaffolding in the back garden. I hate pointing. I also hate sports bras, and I decided that my hatred is for pretty much the same reasons. I won’t deny that they’re both essential and both are essential to maintain structural integrity, however both are bloody expensive, if they’re doing a good job then you don’t know they’re there and neither is glamorous enough to show off to people. I shall be bitter when we hand over the cheque for the pointing and I shall be bitter when I am brave enough to go to M&S to update my personal scaffolding.

Given that I’d opted out of a longer run last night, I felt obliged to do a bit tonight and everything felt ok. Ended up doing 6 miles, through the next village and back whilst listening to Dracula. Luckily no one was near enough to hear me when I decided to join in with it – red-faced and sweaty is scary enough;  red-faced, sweaty and yelling “we need BLAD!” (it’s what Van Helsing called blood what with his comedy accent and all) is perhaps too much.

Over a third of the way there AND it’s the weekend! Hurrah!

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