Kiss and Drop

Whilst on my run this morning I passed a school (actually I should probably have re-worded that a bit so it didn’t sound quite so much like I was having very unusual bowel movements). Most schools over here are designed to have what’s called a ‘Kiss and Drive’ area—basically it’s a series of bays where you can park, temporarily, just long enough to give your offspring a peck on the cheek, bundle them out of the car, and then drive on. Well, the school I ran passed today had a ‘Kiss and Drop’ area. I am guessing that this is just another name for the same thing, but I can’t say for certain. It’s just that the school I attended (way back when) had a “Kiss and Drop’ area, but it was a totally different set up. It was alleged (In fact I’m pretty sure it was proved, but we’ll stay with alleged to be on the safe side) that some of the female pupils were performing certain acts of a lude nature in return for the handing over of dinner money. Unfortunately I only ever had packed lunches… and there wasn’t much they’d do in return for a cheese and pickle sandwich.
I believe I covered a distance of 21.41592653589793km on the run, but it’s only a guesstimate because I don’t have a fancy-pants phone with an app that tells you:
how far you ran;
how fast you ran,
how fast you completed each km;
how many calories you burnt;
that it saw you looking at that lady jogger’s ‘south facing aspect; and
don’t think I don’t know that, between the 13 and 21 km marks, you went by bus.
For those of you who still work in old money 21km is a bloody long way, or 13 miles… whichever you prefer. I’m quite in to this running lark now—it’s all Wendy’s fault, she started running about 18 months ago and for reasons that I can’t quite remember now, I started on Christmas Eve last year. Well, it's not her fault entirely—Michael Palin has to take some of the blame as well (I realise I should probably explain that one but I’m not going to). We (including Hattie and George) all participated in the ‘City to Surf’ at the end of August. Wendy and George did the 12km run… George was horrified to be beaten by his mum, but as Wendy trained for it and George didn’t it was no great surprise. Hattie and her friend did the 4km ‘chat’, and I did the half marathon (which, as I’m sure you will have figured out by now, is 21km). I am planning on doing one of them there full marathon thingys next year (that’s 42km for all of the accountants reading this).
I should point out that the large gap between blogs was partly down to the running, partly down to the fact that I’m now coaching George’s cricket team (I think it’s fair to say that if the future of Australian cricket is in my hands then the Ashes could be staying in England for some time to come), and partly due to the fact that I’ve been dabbling in the dark arts… yes I am now on Facebook.