Thoughts on pub conversations that I overhear; what life is like in a band for a middle-aged bloke; and my attempts to become a triathlete without drowning in a lake, falling off a bike in front of a group of young mums and their children ever again or running my target distance without stopping for a chip butty and beer refuel.
I’m gutted for Kerri-Anne. You wait four years after coming
second last time around, then swim your 10km for 2 hours in open water, then
lose out on a medal by 0.4 secs.
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