Week 17 Part 1: Not that Man!

At the end of last week Mum was very happy that it was time to "taper." When she got back from her last long run she plonked herself down and announced she was looking forward to a rest. Mum was satisfied she'd done everything she could and now all she needed to do was let her legs recover in time for the marathon, and see what happened on the day.
By Monday morning Mum was getting a bit twitchy. She announced it was far too soon to be looking at weather forecasts or carb loading. Then she went and got a huge slab of malt loaf and added the long range weather forecast for Manchester onto her broswer's toolbar. I settled by her feet on my second favourite holey blanket and sighed. When Mum jumped out her chair in panic a few seconds later she ran over my favourite Mr Foxy. Wuff, Mum, careful!

Mum sat down again saying all sorts of bad words around her massive mouthful of malt loaf. She was so distracted I managed to snag the smallest two legged pup's left over toast from the kitchen side where he definitely wasn't supposed to leave it. When I trotted back in with my toasty prize Mum was frantically mashing buttons on her PC saying odd things like "maybe I switched it to Fahrenheit somehow." Mum barely even noticed I had the toast. It was buttery and delicious. Maybe it was meant for me after all.

"I can't run a marathon in 33 degree heat, Wuffle," Mum said suddenly, "I just can't. I'll die, or I'll wish I could die." I still wasn't sure what the problem was, so I licked Mum's knee. Mum looked at her jeans. "How did you get butter on your chops, Wuff?" she demanded to know. Big eyes time, clearly, and another little lick. Don't be sad Mum, don't be cross, your Wuff loves you as well as the butter.

Mum looked back at her PC again and then said another bad word, but this time she laughed. Panic over, it seems. Mum, it turns out, had accidentally added the weather forecast for Man in the Ivory Coast, rather than Manchester, the usually cloudy and rainy town in the North West of England. Mum laughed again, a bit hysterically, but she was definitely laughing. I licked her knee again because she was being odd. She fluffled my ears and said "it's OK, Wuff, Mum will be fine."

She then took the weather forecast back of her toolbar and said maybe she'd look next week, after all it's too soon to be looking at weather forecasts or carb loading.

Mum went and got another slice of Malt Loaf and a nice cup of tea.

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