P^6

Quote of the moment:
"really? it's a post apocalyptic surrealist film, in which pingu and his little friend must travel through the land of ig to the great loo, down which they must flush the one fish. Y'know?

Three Fish for the Polar Bears under the sky,
Seven for the Walruses upon their floes,
Nine for the Harp Seals, doomed to die,
One for the Killer Whale on his dark throne
In the Land of Igland where the Shadows lie.
One Fish to rule them all, One Fish to find them,
One Fish to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Igland where the Shadows lie."

- spasm of Acid Will plagiarism caused by trying to write Highlander without an H key.

I was almost racing again today. I got a phonecall around half nine to tell me I was needed and would be picked up soon after nine outside the gate to Senghennydd Court, then a text around 11 saying James had got the numbers wrong and I wasn't needed. That was kind of fortunate, given I'd spent the evening at an alcohol-tinged BBQ and football fest in Bute Park. That said, no-one could exactly have had a healthy and sober pre-race week, given that we drank at BUSA, went out on Monday for the post-BUSA party and again on Thursday after the rowing awards dinner.

I didn't win anything, except that James, being an uber-cheesy git, got us all medals. We're all winners. Sigh-a-thon. The best awards of the evening were definitely the special catergories: the swimmer award (a rubber duck) for the Novice Women and a PPPPPP award for us, which meant a rowlock for Lawrie for forgetting to screw his gate up properly (the bit across the top of the rowlock which holds the oar in place) and it coming loose and letting his oar come out in the middle of a sprint race. Silly boy.

PPPPPP or P^6 means, of course, Proper Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance.