Two Glove Jase rode out to the pool on a bloody frosty Monday morning.

I lost the sense of touch in my finger tips halfway along the Trail.

West Ham Wanker greeted me at the other end with a hand shake.

OUCH.

That hurt.

I asked him about his weekend.

He told me to f-off.

Oh dear.

One day I will break the news to him that I'm a Trent End Boy, and not a Happy Hammer, as he likes to believe.

That opportunity also presented itself on Monday morning.

But he banged on about some new West Ham signing from Forest. I hadn't got a clue who he was talking about.

Maybe my days as a Trent End Boy are numbered?

A functional 40 lengths followed, and then yet more work training for a new project back at base.

I battled all day with Anna over the control of the central heating.

I gave in late afternoon, accepting that I looked utterly ridiculous wearing two jumpers and a padded body warmer.

We both sneaked out to the train station later on to pick up some tickets, thinking that the place would be empty.

I thought that I could get away with my Work at Home fashion faux pas.

There goes my Boy About Town reputation.

The Lidl Christmas stollen cake saved the afternoon work shifts.

And then Palace Vs Sunderland for Monday evening.


Last built: Sun, Jan 31, 2016 at 3:07 AM

By Jason A.Cobb, Monday, November 23, 2015 at 5:01 PM. It's even worse than it appears.