The scene at 7.30am this morning, as I trudged my way through the local streets to go swimming with the dolphins. Yes, you read it correctly dear reader. Swimming. I even opted to travel on foot, as the Sonic Chariot was sufficiently buried in ice that I decided to let the sun do all the hard work later in the day.
Let's face it, I'm about to spend the next week laying on a settee in the land of my forefathers, with a TV-remote in one hand, a flagon of wine in the other and a vast tin-box full of Cadbury's Roses on my chest. Just like it says we must in The Bible. So in preparation for this joyous celebration, I figure it's probably best to snatch a few minutes of rogue exercise while I can...catch my body all unawares, like.
I also have some last-minute-but-crucial Yuletide shopping to do, which will see me in the local town centre tomorrow before sun-up.
I actually tried this earlier today. Drove 5 miles, parked the SC near as possible to town, walked for 20 minutes and, upon arriving in Leeds, was presented with what looked like a series of out-takes from a George Romero flick. Queues everywhere. Queues to join queues. I turned on my heels and headed back the way I'd come, without so much as a greetings card to show for it.
Tomorrow I shall repeat the exercise but at a ridiculously early hour, before the Army of the Undead have risen, and begin their day's shopping. I shall report back.