After a day liberally festooned with chocolate eggs arriving in the mail, a realisation that painting walls on walls is quite hard, and a bit of grape-play with the chicks next door (cluck cluck, not hair and make-up), I harried myself to the boxing gym.
Ab was there to give David and I a good working over in the ring. Ab told me that he had bacon strapped to his back before we sparred. He is a professional boxer so I assumed that this must be par for the course. After we sparred he changed shirts. I saw the dressing on a wound on his back, and it really did contain bacon. Our coach chastised him for using bacon. Ab has a really amazingly defined torso. I have no bacon. My ribs hurt. My knuckles hurt.