My admiration is boundless for the riders who thunder over the setts of the Paris-Roubaix. This morning Big Fat Pig did his own down-scaled version of the classic. This involves steering the Precious Bike over the pock-marked roads of Shenstone and Four Oaks for an hour and forty-one minutes. I can tell you, you feel every one of the bumps. The roads are in a shocking state. And the run from Shenstone back to Mere Green is an unexpected killer - a succcession of false flats lulling our overweight hero into a misplaced sense of comfort. I did that stretch twice today and by the end of the second I was out on my legs. Mind you the Pig would have to admit to feeling a tad self-righteous after his ordeal. He also ran for an hour (yes without stoppping) on Thursday. Wonder Pig.
Pig and the Groupie enjoyed (without being bowled over)
Tolkien last night. It is a biopic of the young author's formative years at King Edward's School in Birmingham and during the Great War. It carries no imprimatur from the Tolkien estate so perhaps needs to be accomapanied by a liberal dose of salt but I thought it considered and mildy affecting. 69/100.
The Groupie has tolerated my watching of all four parts of
Jesus of Nazareth downloaded over Easter. I'm a sucker for the scriptures and there are good performances from Robert Powell and Ian McShane in particular. Spoiler alert - he dies in the end you know.
The good thing about getting quite a lot of exercise is that you can fool yourself (the Pig does) that over-eating is not merely permissible but compulsory. This is of course self-deluding bollocks. Tonight it will be chicken and chorizo jambalaya. The Groupie is far too good to the Pig.
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