Why is it that when you see two people doing early morning personal training, it's always the man doing all of the shouting and the woman doing all of the work? Case in point in Primrose Hill - I saw this bloke sitting on a gym ball (although to be fair it could have been the other way round the proportions of both being so similar), chatting on his phone and there was a girl at his feet who looked for all the world like she was knitting herself into a tanktop. She let out  tiny squeal as I went by, which could have been pain or she'd dropped a couple of stitches and the bloke on the ball hardly broke breath - "keep going, love, your doing fine. What's that, mate? Yeah I'll meet you later in the Lazy Sod  for a wheat grass and a cheese burger....."

Off to Lords now for a lazy day's cricket watching from the members end. I wonder if you can die from drinking too much Pimms.....?

Got to do 70 minutes running tomorrow, which will bring wretched week 9 to an end. More of that later...