The door to the Plough was ajar so I assumed, correctly, that the place was still open despite the Estate Agency signage on the building. It was and I was greeted by the friendly landlord and a couple of gregarious locals. Cold lager helped me suffer the heat (I’ve gotten wimpy and was soaked in sweat and a bit logy although it was only in the mid 80′s F/ low 30′s C).
The run had been a plodding affair through what I used to consider mild Spring weather but which was sapping my will to continue on this afternoon. Inside the pub it was cool and shady, and the two retired greyhounds that glided up to my chair mocked my clumsily attained heat exhaustion. Their past awards displayed behind the bar only added to my sense of defeat.