Yeah, so it's January and as one "Friend of the TroisV" pointed out the other day, "Losers go on detox in January, winners do an all-pizza diet." We met--all three of the TroisV (which, depending on how you pronounce it, rhymes)--rather later than usual and rode some laps in the cold and the damp. The sprints were lazy. Jon informed us that the Club Mascot has snot coming out of her eyes. We discussed The Omen, which is appropriate since we were cycling past the U.S.A. Ambassador's house. Ah, if only Gregory Peck were the U.S.A. Ambassador for real! And not dead. No offense, Your Excellency. Anyhoo, Dr. Matt had to go straight home to avoid the embarrassment of wandering around the Victoria and Albert Museum in his tights (N.B. this is not so much Dr. Matt's embarrassment we're talking about as it is "Emily"'s). Jon and Dr. Doug repaired to the very busy Look Mum, No Hands!, where Jon sat in a high chair, and Dr. Doug sat in a low one, pretending to talk about his day at kindergarten. On the way home, stopped at that red light on that narrow street, a certain Def Leppard lyric popped into my head before I was distracted by the hip hop aerobics going on in the adjacent building.
Red Light, Yellow Light, Green Light, Go! Dirty Operator Come A-knocking on my door!