Got up around 8.30-9am on Saturday, which for me is later than usual. I made some breakfast and a cup of tea, and watched some television. Skipping between BBC News 24, Sky Sports News and the music channels. I was looking forward to the day, quite a few things happening but nothing too drastic. I left home around 11am, after a pit stop in Henley, got to Caversham around midday. Pav was in Winchester on his way back, collecting his M3 from a garage. After a few minutes, he arrived and we got on with washing the car. The main reason for this was to get Pav to have a look at the rear quarter panels and see how good a job the body shop had done. After a wash, under the dull grey skies of Reading, we reversed the car into the garage. It had started to rain, but only lightly. Pav polished the driver’s side rear quarter to a brilliant shine and wanted to do a similar job on the passenger side, but I wanted to head over to Charlie’s. It was 2pm. Time to go I think. I thanked Pav for his time, I know he wanted to go out in Reading drinking, I bid him goodbye and would see him again later at the party. I called the Admiral and let him know I was on the way over. Twenty minutes down the road to Woodley. As soon I got out of my car, Charlie came to open the door. This was it. I went upstairs, was about to change footwear from my heavy Nike Air trainers, to my Puma classics, but was stopped in my tracks by Charlie. They were too light and would give me little support on our run. I stuck with the Nike trainers, took off my sweatshirt but opted out of the offer to borrow some shorts. We headed out, out of the courtyard and onto the main road. My first run, since my days of cross country back in the mid 1990s. To begin with I kept up the pace with Charlie but around the first corner, Charlie slowly took the lead and by half way, he was a good 100 yards ahead of me. I was looking to detail the run on Google Maps. However it is more complicated than it looks, I need to revise my first attempt. As I tried to regulate my breathing, my body just could not take it anymore and I slowed to a stroll and then stopped altogether to catch my breath. My personal trainer, spotting me, turned around and just shouted “Run! Run!”. Sure enough, I gave out a sign and started running again. This would continue at numerous points through out the course. Charlie even made the comment that I was not running, I was merely ‘power‘ walking! By the time we got back to Charlie’s flat, I was completely shattered. You can imagine my surprise when Charlie said that it was just a warm up. We got back, I had a sip of some Lucozade Sport and then got down to some serious training. My press-up technique was bad, I knew that already but I was shocked that I had to get my chest as low as a ‘fist’ gap to the floor. I tried with little luck to get my body to the floor but managed thirty press-ups of sorts. Then came the sit-ups. Once my feet were secured down, I did much better. However, the improvement of my technique was to get the back of my shoulders to touch the floor. After these crawling tasks, I had to do squats. Charlie just laughed at the half squats I had been doing in training for the previous month. Then, after another short drink break, it was time for the weights. Now here comes the point, whereby I realise exactly how weak I am. First the bar was loaded with 35kg but this was dropped down to 15kg, as I struggled with the larger weight. I eventually managed twenty of these, although it felt like many more. We then switched over to some dumbbells. Once again, the weight was reduced and I had my back up against the wall and tried to do some biceps drills. It was hard work, but I got there in the end. Then Charlie, showed me a few other exercises with the dumbbell. Each harder than the last. Then, it was down on the floor again for some press-ups and sit-ups. It was 4pm, I was shattered. Time to head home. From the glazed look in Charlie’s eyes, he was not impressed. I had plenty of work to do, to gain any level of fitness. As I left, I convinced Charlie to come to the party, although he did not need much convincing. I would be back in five hours to pick him up. I headed home, and got some food, caught up with the football scores. Then, went to sleep for an hour or so, my body needed the rest, particularly if I was going to be partying into the small hours. My sister woke me up at 7pm, and I got up to get ready and left just after 8pm. I first picked up Charlie, then picked up Pav, then final pick up was Sarah. Then, as the taxi driver, we drove around the corner to Tesco Express petrol station, before finally heading over to Oxford Road and Kev’s house. I parked the car around the corner and we headed in. We could see the tent from the back of the house and the laser light show. This looked good. As we walked through the door, we were greeted by Foxy. He was more than merry. He gave Charlie a hug, and then me as well, in a strange show of manly affection. I was glad he was here, there is always a lively party when he is there. A case in point is the weekend down in Cornwall back in May. Walking through the kitchen, now DJ booth, we headed outside into the garden. It was amazing, easily the best house party I had been to. The garden, considering how small it was, was covered in a tent, there were four silver glittering disco balls, an assortment of green laser lights. A small dance floor, leading to a grass area with sofas either side. There was a fridge, on the left, stocked with drinks. We moved up to the back to join the rest of our friends on the decking area. It was rather dark, but Julian, one of the organisers, soon provided us with a lamp. We sat down and the party began. There was a water feature to the side, a large shower head if you will, powering water down into a man made water fall under the decking. Due to lack of water, it only lasted for eight minutes and used around 14 litres of water. Then it just died. It was used twice during the night. Foxy was in great form, he asked Charlie if he was still playing rugby and jumped out of his chair to tackle him, the Admiral, a little slow to react but eventual fought off the T-Dogg move. It happened again a little later, but I was laughing so much I can’t remember exactly how that one panned out. We were in for a night of pure entertainment. The party was great, it slowly filled up and was perhaps at it’s peak around midnight. We got down onto the dance floor to bust some shapes before Pav’s set around 12.30am. He played a great set and Foxy absolutely went crazy to an old classic. Josh Wink with a remix of Higher State of Consciousness. I have never seen the T-Dogg go so hyper. He was just loving it and giving Pav hi-fives through the window. Around 3.30am, we were quite hungry, so headed down the road for some food. Pav told me that Mr. Cod was open until 4am, so you can imagine my surprise when it was closed. We then walked down Oxford Road to Hot Stuff, which was open until 4.30am. We got some food, paid for kindly by Charlie and then headed back to the party. Mr. Stevens had arrived by now, so we headed back to the dance floor for his set. It was good, but the party was dying down, with only the hardcore party animals left. (The purists, would stay until early afternoon on Sunday). Around 5am, we decide to make a move and left. I got back home at 6.03am. I jumped into my bed, completely shattered. The work out (as brief as it had been) had taken it’s toll on me. The legend of all house parties on top, did not help. What are the signs of a truly memorable night? Some people say, it is when you call your 2nd ambulance. Other’s say it is when you have to grab onto your friends to carry you back home. In this case, it was Fox, collapsed in the door way of Kev’s house around 3am. Such a shame he remembers very little about the whole weekend. Teach him to go into town and start drinking around 2pm, in the afternoon.