Talk about taking the wind out of your sails.
Just when I thought I was about to sign off the galleys and give the green light I noticed a couple of errors in the text. ARSE! I cried - throwing my toys out of the pram.
Took the wind out of my sails for sure, Hey-ho, life goes on. A week delay to the book launch. We'll live.
A similar feeling was felt when returning home after a tough day at work and a short visit to the gym. Feeling chuffed with myself that I had powered my way through a hill profile on a static bike for the immense time period of half an hour I caught up with my neighbour as I arrived home, hiding my aching joints. Puffing out my proud chest and sucking in the flab I enquired if she was still cycling. 'Yes', she replied, 'I did 112 miles on the weekend as PART of an IronMan competition.'
IronMan competitions are not for fancy dress fans or Robert Downey Jnr lookalikes. This one was a triathlon that included a swim in open water of 2.5 miles, the soul destroying 112 mile bike ride (it takes me a week to travel that far in the car) and to finish, after the warm-up of the first two elements, a full marathon around the town of Tenby. 15 hours hard graft.
I didn't bother mentioning how many calories I'd proudly burned off.
Well done Ros. It stopped me feeling sorry for myself at least.
Nos Da ('Goodnight' in Welsh)
Lurv
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