Half man half biscuit
I left my desk at 5pm sharp today along with any shred of common sense. Dressed appropriately in short trousers I set off to run the 4 and a half miles home, joined only by my back pack, that up until now had enjoyed a friendly relationship with my back, but the two quickly fell out once a walk turned into a run. The tightly fastened straps couldn't prevent the pack from gently bouncing up and down on my shoulders with the consistent rhythmic motion of a couple enjoying a quickie.
After 20 minutes, gallons of hot sweat had breached the nylon fabric of my back pack. Its heavy contents, that included a laptop, a change of clothes, and 2 hardback reference books, were the main reason I was blowing out of my hole. That and a succession of steep hills. And while there are very few things that offer distraction from eyeing up the large number of young sorts passing through the leafy streets of Southampton University's campus, the inability to breathe is one of them.
To the sun kissed innocent bystander, of which there were many, an older man was on all fours, dripping sweat onto the pavement, and summoning all his dwindling resources to suck oxygen into his lungs. Take my advice and next time you go out for a run leave your belongings behind.
High time to click here for a bit of Half Man Half Biscuit with "All I Want For Christmas is a Dukla Prague Away Kit."