The wife was doing her latest excessively long bout of exercise, as she trains up for her second marathon in April. 22 miles today I believe. 9 miles in, our paths crossed briefly, then, off she went eastwards.
At least by recent standards, this has been (and will remain) a very uneventful week. But one can still take notes about it. Clare, indeed, can take notes about almost anything, a phenomenon I have been observing for more than a quarter of a century now. Note both the writing and the pointing hand: the information is being processed even at the moment of its creation…
With Joe now living in Dundee we have determined that Newcastle is the halfway point between us, geographically. Hence, this weekend, built around an evening out but also (it being me) a trip to a football match and a chance to laze around in the sunshine on the grassy acres of Heaton Stannington FC (a ground which thoroughly deserves the awards it has received for its beer, by the way).
Of course, the title of this blog has non-geographical implications too, as with all parents and their children. And if you saw pictures of me when I was Joe’s age (21) — this shot, particularly, is like looking at a magical mirror that projects one back in time. That’s me, in the summer of 1991, right there. Only with bigger feet.
One of those rare ‘post-midnight’ shots for a given day: I didn’t get back from Wales until after 12 on Wednesday night, or was it Thursday morning. By the time I did, the wife had dozed off, so she didn’t particularly complain when I got off one final shot (so to speak). And no, she doesn’t have an ankle-bracelet tattoo; it’s insect repellent, I believe. Postscript: C did insist I add an observation that she gave me permission to use the shot…
The sun comes out, and with it, various bits of English skin that have not had much opportunity for solar exposure in recent months. And it shows. Clare, who has never been one for tanning much, decides to display possibly the whitest legs in Europe as we enjoy an end-of-week beer or three. They’ve some catching up to do on the arms, for sure.
Clare has flown out to Toronto to join me for a few days, and why not, it’s a fine city to explore and also to look at. The skyline seems very well balanced and the CN Tower sets it off excellently. The best view of it is from the islands just offshore in the Lake, which is why a lot of people go there on a nice day — though she made it before the weekend. I like the shape her shadow makes on this one.
No apologies for putting up the cheesy-grin family shot today as the day was all about Clare, who ran her first ever marathon in a time of 6 hours and 1 minute. The Edinburgh marathon started in the city, headed out along the coast, turned around and came back as far as Musselburgh. This is Longniddry, where Joe and I caught up with her at about the 20 mile mark. She looked, as you can see, fresh as a daisy, and from this point on I had absolutely no doubt that she would finish. I know what this has taken in terms of training — an immense effort! And I am very sure it won’t be her last. (Will I be taking up the challenge? No chance.)
Well, we do still have a social life now and again. You wouldn’t necessarily perceive this from reading the blog, though: this is the latest shot in a given day since late November (and it’s still not all that late, though the evening did continue past this point).
The woman in question being Clare, of course. We both adopted this position all day in fact. I liked her little ‘light cave’, and should point out the dubious fluffy mascot to lower right.
A Friday night out, in the kind of lighting which makes taking photos with my point-and-click gear an activity dependent mostly on luck. Great action shots of people dancing don’t really emerge. But this photo of Clare getting the first beers of the evening is at least notable for this being the point when she overtakes Joe as the most-often featured person on here — a status that, all things considered, she will almost certainly now retain.
Being 42 