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First day this week where it didn’t feel too hot for a run, though the 6km I managed did feel a little stodgy. After a few months of not really being too bothered about what I am eating (and putting on a bit more weight as a result) a switch seems to have flicked and I am back on myfitness pal and have cut out snacking. Once I am back from Scotland there won’t be a lot of time to get the long runs in for the two half marathons I am doing at the end of October/start of November. I listened to more of Great Expectations as I ran and moved like Jaggers.
It’s such a good book and a nice change to be consuming a book just for fun. Though I have found the book club books to be fun too. I especially enjoyed The Skeleton Key by Erin Kelly and spoke to her about it today, so we have the first book club of September in the can. I might also have the first confirmed guest for the next RHLSTP run - will let badgers and plussers know when it’s definite (as definite as anything can be when Covid still floats in the air). It’s a good one though.
I took Catie into town so she could get a train into London to do a live Drunk Women show. I stopped off for a quick coffee, but was held up in the queue by an old lady who had just got a new loyalty card and believed that she was entitled to a free piece of cake. The transaction was taking the longest possible time. “There’s always one,†she said, which is probably true from her point of view as she’s always there. She was struggling to choose a coffee, insisting that the barista explain everything. When she finally opted for an Americano, she then had took time to work out if she needed milk and then having selected a cake she handed over her card. But there was no free cake on there. She then got out a printed up email which she said confirmed that the cake was hers, but the barista said there was nothing they could do and so the woman finally decided to cancel the entire order. Even then - and this had taken what felt like a lifetime but what was approaching ten minutes, she kept questioning the decision, missed the fact that she was being offered the coffee that had been made of her for free and then wanted the customer service number.
I felt it was likely that there was never any offer of cake and that she just wanted some human interaction. She did occasionally almost apologise to the growing queue, but only half-heartedly and always with the feeling that this was the fault of technology and not her taking way too long over everything. Finally another barista arrived as the original one looked up the phone number. By the time I sat down to drink the coffee that I now only had a few minutes to drink before my car parking was up, the lady was back at the counter saying that they hadn’t given her her card back. The barista insisted that she had done so and had seen her put it in her purse. They put up with it all very patiently, as did I, though I was very tempted to tell the old lady to get the fuck on with it at several points.
The irony is that I’d have to be properly old to act like a selfish old cunt like that.
Luckily I’d only got an espresso, so I got to drink it in time.
