Working in Rutland

As I mentioned in my last post, I have recently started a job as a Wine Merchant. In other parts of the world this may imply a level of effort and pressure. In Rutland things are a little more relaxed:
12.45 Turn up for monthly sales meeting. As I'm new, there is another sales person I haven't met before - turns out she's an ex grand prix dressage rider so we talk horses.
1pm Champagne poured and lunch served - smoked salmon blinis, Camembert, salad, cold meats, strawberries and clotted cream. Sales Director says stuff about work (wasn't really listening to that bit) and pours various whites and reds (tasting don't you know) while we eat.
2pm Some calls to some very friendly people and chats about the weather, enlivened by a superb NZ Reisling
4pm To pub as no-one in 4-6pm. Two hours and three glasses of Sauvignon Blanc later....
6.15pm Another couple of hours calls to lovely chatty people, washed down with plenty of SA Pinotage
8pm Lift home from a colleague (retired MD of a national catering company) as a little over the limit...
Another tough day at work.
And I thought getting paid for walking was a dream.

Another job, another birthday and more walking

As my teaching assistant job doesn't start until September, I needed something else to supplement my Ride Welland income and get me out of the house. By some fluke of fate the perfect job appeared, and I'm now a "Private Wine Merchant" selling small estate wines imported by Catchpole & Frogitt from a lovely office in Oakham.



A couple of weeks ago it was my father's 85th birthday, and Phil and I spent a wonderful day in Bournemouth. As well as lunch with my parents at their hotel on a balcony overlooking the sea, we managed to get a couple of hours alone which we filled with walking barefoot in the sand, paddling in the sea, picking up shells and drinking rose at a beachside pub. An American at the next table asked if we were on our honeymoon, because we looked so happy! His wife wasn't with him. The day was a glorious, four hour micro - holiday.



Walking carries on apace, and now we are researching holiday rides. Saturday was a bit of a disaster; Phil wanted to do all of a ten miler in one, very hot day, so we managed eight miles by which time all the pubs had shut so we couldn't get any lunch and I turned into a post-midnight gremlin. By the time we got home Phil had sunburn to top off the bashed ears. We had to put Annie into a cool bath as she was panting non-stop; she doesn't really understand the concept of pacing herself in the heat.



A new twist to my exercise regime began yesterday evening when I cycled to Catchpole & Frogitt; about 8 miles. Fortunately it is downhill most of the way to Oakham, and Phil came and picked me and my bike up after work so I didn't have to try and cycle back up again. Unfortunately all my walking and cycling are not leading to the desired weight loss, mainly due to Phil's shopping. Phil is adept at man shopping. When I spend £35 in Tesco I manage to buy enough healthy food for both of us for at least a week. When Phil spends £35 in Tesco he buys rubbish. Yesterday is a prime example (I found the receipt):

• An 8 pack of Carlsberg
• Two large bottles of fat cola
• A pack of BBQ chicken thighs (yuk)
• A pack of sausages
• A pack of beef burgers
• Loads of white bread rolls
• Some vile looking yellow BBQ relish that looks like someone has puked up a load of lumpy pus with blood in it
• A pork pie (yuk)
• A sandwich
• Three packs of chocolate biscuits
• A bar of chocolate
• Snacksize chocolate (whatever that is)
• Two of the biggest baking potatoes you have ever seen
• A massive pepperoni pizza

He did buy a light bulb and some bin bags, so managed two useful things. I do try and ban him from shopping every now and then, and he's good for a while but gradually starts sneaking things in until he has a big blow out like the above. Time to bash his ears again methinks.