Well, as promised, I'm back. The work is done (for now), the little parcels are winging their way across the UK to delight happy lovers on Valentine's day. Well, that's the thought that kept me going when on returning from quick trip to Oban (7h in a car is not a profitable use of time)! It was wonderful to see my nephews (3 1/2 and 13months) but not the best of trips; just a bit fraught, the children were fraught, the parents were knackered, we tried to help and therefore returned knackered. Also, with Valentine's coming up the timing suck-eth much-eth.

Today I finally had an outside run, the first for 8 days (disgraceful, I shall whip myself at once). There really is no substitute to outside miles. Managed a respectable 10K in 1:00:22 - don't have any reliable splits as I was just using my watch and doing a run I knew. (Arrrg, those 22 seconds!)

I didn't want to run today - a feeling I really hate. Normally (and this is sad) I get excited at the thought of a run. My problem is that I resent feeling like I should run. I like to be able to go often enough that (if I have to) I can delay a run to the next day. I hate knowing that I have to run or fitness will decline, mileage will become scant, and I'll generally hate myself.

Going out for a slap-up feed tonight as pre-Valentine's dinner means we can sit at home on the actual day and bask in the romantic light of the TV unencumbered by other (and often newly spliced couples trying to be romantic).

As weird Valentine's gifts go I think I might have excelled myself this year. TheO is getting a miniature gong to announce the start/end of parties/dinners/tedious conversations etc... I can't wait to see their face. (No, seriously, they should like it...)