AM
12km - 52:40. Early around The Bay.
My attempt at a new Beef Brisket Pie pb fell short, thanks to a shortage of supply at the Central Baking Depot. I was starving and dead keen for five but they only had four in the warmer. They suggested a chicken pie, which once upon a time would've been tempting, but not any more. The once noble and tasty chicken has evolved into a piss-weak, steroid-pumped, cage-dwelling, non-flight bird, surely such a pathetic existence couldn't satisfy this hungry man's appetite. I settled for four but, badly stung by the cost of tomato sauce sachets, I'll carry my own bottle with me next time.
Our neighbour asked if we were interested in joining her for a Royal Wedding Party, but immediately retracted the invitation when Millie pointed out that I was straight. Can't believe my Friday night footy feast will be delayed for a wedding on the other side of the planet.
12km's
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