Bad mood rising

A bad nights sleep interrupted by intense back pain, dreams of a new found ability to do gymnastics, Ofsted shutting down Red Kite on account that I never take anything seriously and the tax man inspecting my bank account due to the purchase of too many train sets (red wine and painkillers, not a recipe for restful sleep) meant that by the time I crawled out of my scratch I was not the happiest ever.
Withdrawal symptoms from the racing steed were not helped by jolly text messages from the Red Kite Riders fit enough to turn out on a beautiful spring morning and do a cheeky 30 miler before elevenses. A good cooked breakfast to chase away no bike ride blues was ruined by the realization that yesterdays "funny" tasting breakfast (like metal, licking a battery covered in soap) was not caused by a dishwasher malfunction but by chickens eating something strong enough to turn their egg yolks a weird smelling yuk tasting concoction. Today's eggs were binned before they poisoned anyone.
 I tried to shuffle about HQ without crying and was eventually coaxed into Miranda for a trip to the pharmacist to get some amazingly powerful painkillers and a worthless warm patch thing that stuck to seats, clothes, floor, toilet cistern all in preference to the skin on your back as per design. A quick limp around the garden centre secured some tomato and courgette plants for planting once I can bend again, after that I was driven back home to sit and be miserable watching the apprentice play trains. Racing steed sat in conservatory goading me so I consoled myself by looking at route card and convincing myself that 300km is not that far if you say it quickly.