Yesterday, Scented Man stopped me on lap 5 to tender his resignation.
Okay, 'tell me about' rather than 'tender'. He was quite dramatic:
"I will not be here tomorrow morning. I will never be here again."
The Powers That Be were cutting out the night shift (so if anyone harbours dreams of a night-time cable-car raid, this is your chance).
I commiserated, and we said our goodbyes. I pad-padded away, trying to remember what lap I was on.
But apparently not everyone got the memo. Territorial Guy showed up this morning. He waited until I'd finished jogging, then asked if I'd seen Scented Man.
And in other news: for those who have suffered through a miserable June (wettest on record in Ireland), I thought I'd post some sunshine: