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I always spend the journey home quizzing, renegotiating and attempting to get what I need which is 7 hours of Minecraft, as much chocolate as I can eat and the remainder of the day in front of the TV.
I start with 'What jobs do we have today' and then I determine a running order for the afternoon several times, each time more skewed in my favour, until I imagine he has agreed with me. It doesn't take long for him to say that with all those things you need to do, we'd better delete Minecraft so you've got time, and I pipe down.
Onwards to Debenhams, where we both bought new running shoes. I complain about the hardness of the pavements and so armed (or footed) with new purpose-made shoes, I expected a radical change.
We popped over the road to Jof's work and it was empty so we sidled up to one of those desk microphones and said into it "Oi Ratbag, what do you have to do to get some service around here" and there was a big tweetling howl-round on the speakers and Jof totally and studiously ignored us.
On my run around the park I stopped half way and said why do my feet still hurt then, surely these new shoes should whisk me round at the speed of a little boy's imagination with the comfort of a million sofas. But apparently it doesn't work that way so we stopped off at the swingpark and played with Jack W.
This naughty little copper armour-piercing monster is a Hotchkiss 25mm anti-tank round from 1936. This is why I'm glad I'm not a soldier.
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