Wordsmithing vs Taxi Driving

Tuesday was a quiet day spent re-drafting a reasonable chunk of my documentation and calling in favours from colleagues where I would like them to make a contribution. As is usual I achieved less than I would have liked but am on target to have a finished product by the beginning of next week.

Away from work I headed out on the Three Miler suitably prepared with scuba gear  and wellingtons. I was disappointed to find that all of the flood waters had subsided apart from a single, shallow fluddle.* It was easily avoided but I wandered through the middle in attempt to justify the discomfort of walking in wellingtons.

In the evening my grumbling stomach told me that the rugby season was definitely here as supper was delayed by a couple of hours to fit in with mid week practice. There also seems to be a significant increase in the demands on Dad's Taxi Service with a pick up from school** and two return trips to the rugby club.

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* fluddle: noun, a pool of standing water too large to be a puddle but too small to be called a flood. A fluddle must be large enough to cover the full width of a road to merit the term.
** one of his bloody mates managed to tear away one of the retaining straps for the tip up seats in the back of the Defender. I swear if I ever meet that child in a darkened alley ...