Come On Baby Light My Torch

So, as you may know I'm supposed to be running a half marathon in October. I say supposed to be because I still cannot for the life of me picture me even crossing the starting line let alone the finishing line. Yesterday, I  went to Shaftesbury to see the Olympic torch. I figured it might act as a catalyst - something to spur me on. Actually it just filled me with dread but it also made me do a bit of research on the torch which was rather interesting. For me anyway because I'm quite anal about things like that.

Did you know that the torch for our London Olympics has been designed along the theme based on the number 8. There will be 8000 torchbearers, (and therefore at least 8000 torches given they're all given the chance to buy theirs for 200 quid which I think is a swizz. I always imagined there was only one torch), it is 800 mm long, weighs 800 grams (it has to be light enough for 12 year olds to carry) and is made of a gold coloured metal that is perforated with 8000 circle holes (which makes it lighter). I thought that was fascinating but enough of that.  As methods of conveying a flame go, it's rather smart looking. If you look back over previous designs, some of them look like kitchen utensils:

Egg Whisk

Montreal 1976

Spatula

Mexico City 1968

Honestly, trying to slot those pictures in has taken half an hour so figure out the magic pairs yourself. 

Anyway, given that I've been told now that "it's all about the miles", I'm trying this week to do at least 20km. Until today I had done 10. And today, unsurprisingly, it has been torrential all day. Of course. So, just as the ankle biters were about to hit the sack, I changed into my running kit and fartleked to the barn and back. I can't work out whether fartleking is supposed to cover distances more quickly than normal running because you're going faster for part of the time. Not in my case anyway but that's probably because I end up walking the bits in between. Though I did make sure that my fast bits coincided with cars coming along the lane in the hope that they think I always run like that.

And so, to another Friday night and my turn to cook. At the beginning of this whole blogging exercise I vowed to cook more and to make new things which has failed miserably on both fronts. Firstly because I can't be arsed and secondly because the one new thing that I did make (the salmon and noodle salad) I love so much that we now have it at least three times a week. We were going to have it tonight aswell  - this is how you make it:

• Go for a run in the pouring rain to justify the bottle of wine you anticipate having
• 7pm (it is Friday afterall) have shower and put pyjamas on (this is so that, when you get down to the kitchen and open the fridge and realise that you have half your ingredients missing you can't then go to the shop to buy them and so have to....
•  resort to plan B which, against all my rules, is IMPROVISE
• Away with the noodle salad and in with the Roast Salmon , lemon and thyme risotto.
• Open fridge - dig out salmon (still within use by date), lemon (already halved and starting to go green and dry),  wine. Oops no wine.
• Go to "wine cupboard"and find that, despite both working in the wine trade, we only have one bottle left which is too good to put in risotto.
• Put it in the freezer (it's white)
• Shout outside to The Boy who's in his office "is there any cooking white in the garage?" No reply.
• Decide to do it without wine. Decide also that, as The Boy is working hard, not to open the good stuff in the freezer and put in a) the risotto or b) my stomach.
• Go out to office to find that The Boy is "working" but has a beer in hand
• Return to kitchen and remove good stuff from freezer and put into stomach.
• Finish cooking risotto and eat - the recipe is now irrelevant.

Anyway, the point is I have seen the Olympic Torch AND cooked a new meal. All in the space of 48 hours.

Exhausted.