When I was young I never needed anyone

I doubt if Eric Carmen has run around the Tan. If he had, he may have also felt the natives suffered from ennui.
Business took me to Melbourne for an over-nighter this week. A 12k run beckoned: Yarra and The Tan. One of Australia's best. Donning my CR cap, I sallied forth. Not a bite. Either no other CRs were out last Wednesday around 6am, or else they smelled Sydney. Everyone certainly looked a little bored and listless. Only the Bootcampers were pumped; I tend to steer a firm path around them as I am sure their zealousness is both transitory and superficial.

I am prepared to give Melbourne's CRs one last chance. I will be running Tue/Wed same route, and will deal harshly with eye-avoiders.

Another month's record running. I passed my Oct 04 PB k's today, so will ease off the last few days, allowing a solid start to Nov.

Comparatively fewer k's recently, with the range 8-12k per run; still, a significant increase on previous years, even 2004. I'm finding running much easier now that the weather is so pleasant early in the day. Six am starts are de rigeur; indeed, 5.45 am are also in fashion. This year I now have my trusty Fuel Belt to help me through the coming heat. I'm sure long runs will be confined to early mornings when Mrs BB is resting. It's too hard to do 20k at 9am.

The new Jimmy Buffett CD "Take The Weather With You" is out and the BB household has been treated to repetitive plays. I guess you know he is my favourite, although sadly Mrs BB doesn't share that view. An interesting reflection of life together: she still knows all of his songs by heart.

Susanna Gregory's "Mark Of A Murderer" is approaching its denouement in my reading pile; it is her eleventh fine mystery about 14th century Cambridge, starring physician Matthew Bartholomew. Next up, Mike Ashley's collection of Jacobean Whodunnits.

It would seem that The Weather Man is telling me we shouldn't have bought the cantilever. How else to explain the juxtaposition of sunless and/or windy days? Yesterday we defiantly sat indoors, silently cursing his capricious behaviour, moodily imbibing our Andrew Garrett Sparkling Shiraz (even drinking it caused me anger - ten years ago I was permitted to refer to it as Sparkling Burgandy. I am no Francophile).

Still, I should be grateful. In what other city could you be entertained so freely by both Sheikh Taj el-Din and the Alan Jones biography? Current Soap TV scriptwriters would struggle to put together dialogue as lively; I am expecting each news bulletin to conclude with
"tune in next week - same bat-time, same bat-channel". Even Bruce Wayne would be waiting...

"exit, stage left"