I’ve been trying out my purchases whilst I’ve been off. I went for a run (my first run in months, prior to that, years) and decided to try out my ankle weights! Can anybody guess how that went? First run in ages, with a kilo strapped to each ankle. Not well is the answer, in case you were wondering. I managed to miss the road I was aiming for so went on a much longer circuit, I completely outpaced myself and by the time I got back (only twenty minutes or so later) I thought I was going to throw up. Not an unqualified success then. We are supposed to be starting training sessions on Sundays now the TKD classes have been cancelled so I thought I’d get a head start. Apparently you need to be able to run a mile in under twelve minutes (OK, stroll a mile in under twelve minutes) before you can qualify for black belt. I could do that now. But to do it with élan I really need the practise. So I got back, tried to get my breath back, then carried on with the rest of my work-out. When I’d finished I tried out my latest invention: The Device! As you can see it’s just two home-made ankle loops attached to a length of rope that passes between two eyed screws. The pulley does the rest. Pop your feet in those loops, pull the cord on the pulley, then weep like a little girl. It’s a home-made substitute for a £150 device you can buy. Mine cost about £20 or so, and I have enough rope and screws to build another. That’s the crowing over, the question was: will it work? Oh my sweet lord, yes. I tried it out yesterday after my work-out, when theoretically I’m as stretched as I get, and it stretched me further. Today I was so stiff, with the leg weights and the stretching, that I had to do a quick work-out. This promptly turned into another run in weights (much better this time, thanks for your concern) a work-out and back to The Device! This time I managed to pull another nine inches or so through the pulley. (I marked the pulley cord to give me a record of my progress.) This is not as impressive as it sounds, my feet did not go nine inches further back, there is a 6:1 ratio on the pulley. I’m here to tell you that when you feel at full stretch, then pull another nine inches of cord through, it feels like you are being torn in half, however insignificant the actual improvement is in inches. I have placed it behind where my kick/punch bag usually hangs (I only took it down for the sake of clarity on the photo’s) usually it looks like this: The benefits are many. It hides most of the mess, and more importantly my girly, sobbing face when it is in use and when I […]
Continue readingAuthor: Buck
Kicking back (is Lily Allen the new Bowie?)
Ah, sweet days off. Done loads of jobs today, all of them rewarding, a few of them fun. I trimmed my box hedge around the grassy knoll. Apparently that’s the last trim I can give it this year as it has to have time for any new growth to toughen off before the first frosts. It doesn’t look that much different, a bit tidier, but the main thing is in trimming the top branches it will make the growth below fill out. It’s so nearly there now. This time next year I will have to go around with my spirit level and level it all off (it strikes me now, too late, that is how I should have gone at it in the first place!). Also I trimmed all the grass with the same shears as the box. I had one of those strimmer jobbies but I couldn’t get the hang of it. I was chopping out lumps of earth and butchering plants left right and centre. So I sweat and it takes ages, but the majority of my plants survive. As today was actually summery I stripped all the covers off the sofa and gave them a wash, and did the bedding. Yes I really am that sad. I get bored very easily and even jobs that aren’t fun, once done, can be fulfilling. If nothing else they save Wendy having to do them and that’s got to count for something. Not that she showed any signs of actually doing them herself mind, but in principle she might one day have considered doing them. I did the shopping and got a new ‘phone this morning. Obviously the devious postman seized on that window of opportunity to claim he’d been around with a parcel. Left a note saying I can collect it from the main office in town in twenty one hours! How big is his walk? (Round, in non-posty talk) No wonder these posties are all minted if they are out for twenty one hours a day! Damn the Royal Mail! My new ‘phone has a camera! No film in it mind, to borrow from the excruciating Rob Brydon in Gavin and Stacey. I had some mad idea that that was what I needed to make my life complete, apparently not. It’s just another bloody mobile and you get a thousand texts pestering you about all the things you should be doing to be down with the kids. I don’t even know any gullible schoolgirls! (Topical joke, don’t put me on the register!) I’ve been on 2-10 this week so today was my first chance to go to TKD, bloody hell what a lesson! It was so hard that at the end, when we were doing spinning back kicks my pony- tail was so soaked in sweat it was whipping me in the face and spraying sweat everywhere. Unpleasant for all concerned. Good lesson though, showed me what I need to concentrate on (they have a name for the […]
Continue readingOver myself
Cancel last, as the command went from the artillery. Turns out that feeling of malaise and ennui has gone again, as it did the next day the last time. Which leads me to suspect it may actually be nothing more than a dread of going back to work. This is strange, as although I don’t wake up and leap out of bed shouting "whoopee, it’s time for work!", I certainly don’t (consciously) dread it. I said it was probably nothing, being all brave and stoical, turns out it was nothing and I was being a mard-arse. Less than laudable. Moving on, head hung low in shame, I forgot to mention yesterday that whilst practising my head kicks I had yet another super idea. I am so full of them (or it!). I had the brush propped up to make sure I was kicking horizontally at the right height, but I still couldn’t be sure I was doing the technique right, as it happens too quick to watch and do at the same time. My cunning idea then was to film it. O.K., not quite the master-stroke of genius that I may have previously implied, but a good idea none-the-less. That way I could transfer it to the computer and play it at a slower speed to observe the kick. So there I was, in just my sweat pants (whatever they are called) doing these kicks. There was a triple whammy of badness though; I had positioned the camera on the top of the cooker facing across the kitchen (to get the height right) but that had it pointing toward the sunny window, so it was a really dark picture, my kick is wrong in a way I can’t put my finger on until I get better footage, and, worst of all, I looked like a flabby, sweaty, un-cool porker! That was not my self-image. Words like ‘buff’, ‘toned’, or ‘ripped’ did not cross my mind, for fear of being run over by the herd of words like ‘bloater’, ‘porker’, ‘fat-boy’ and ‘lard-arse’, presumably. ‘Diet, chunky’ were the thoughts that quickly followed. However I still had my banana in cereal before I went to work, a cooked breakfast at work, then a pack of biscuits when I got home. And I mean a pack. A whole pack. They are so dunky-licious. Quick dunk in your brew, soft, sweat mouthful, then quickly on to the next. I eat them that fast that I don’t have chance to get full before I’ve eaten the lot. That was excessive, a whole pack, but I can eat half a pack when I’m not even hungry, just as something nice to have. I have no beer or other drugs to reward me for a hard days toil, so I have a nice biccy or several. Then Wendy went and spoiled it all by finding how many calories there are in a pack. 1,150! One thousand, one hundred and fifty calories. A whole day’s calories in a […]
Continue readingEnnui time again
I’ve had a day off today and rather than that miserable feeling I had the last time, I’ve deliberately done lots today. I went to B&Q to pick up the last bits I need for my self-torture/ tendon stretching device. Whilst there I picked up a cute three-pack of cactus, then re-potted my cactus bowl when I got home. I made a display of flowers from the garden (in a large glass. It challenged the contemporary aesthetic. So much so, Wendy immediately re-arranged it into a vase. Luddite! I represent the bleeding edge of the avant garde!) Anyway, then I deep cleaned the house. I started by doing the toilets (the downstairs one gets particularly clarted in crap due to the excessive amount of industrial grade hairspray Wendy applies on a daily basis. If that’s what it’s doing to the floor, I really do wonder about her lungs. It’s a good job she doesn’t smoke. Quite aside from making it a double whammy of damage on her lungs, there would be the very real danger of her exploding.) Then I thought I might as well hoover upstairs, then I carried on and did the stairs, then the front room rug. Then I finished off with one off those floor wipe jobbies doing the kitchen and around the front room rug. Then I worked out for an hour, practising my kicks with the one kilo ankle weights on. I also managed to fit in an end to the first part of my latest stab at a story, go the chippy (Friday, law and all) have a shower, watch Gardeners World and two episodes of Chuck. So it’s been quite a busy, and fairly productive day. Have to be up in five and a half hours so I’d better get to bed. At least I don’t have to take any more driving tests! Yay! Buck.
Continue readingStory, Nothing to see here, move along.
……………….. “I’m a werewolf.” He said it deadpan. No inflection in his voice, no hint of a smile, no boast nor irony. Just “I’m a werewolf.” John found his jaw opening and closing as he tried to find a reply. Nothing. Having someone state that they are a werewolf is like felling a metaphorical giant redwood across a person’s train of thought, John found. His mouth tried to open again, John shut it decisively. Finding no way forward he tried to review the conversation for earlier errors or misunderstandings. They had been discussing martial arts, or in truth, John had while Peter had offered the odd nod. John had been musing aloud about the mixture of martial arts in which he was currently training. Taekwondo, all about kicking, and Wing Chun Kung Fu, all about punching, blocking and generally using your hands and arms to fight. He had wondered aloud if the combination of the two styles was the recipe for becoming an unbeatable fighter. Unusually, Peter had brought something to the monologue. He answered the rhetorical question. “No.” This had brought John’s first pause. The fact that Peter had chosen to speak on the subject of martial arts was sufficiently out of character to warrant attention, but for him to state such an opinion categorically, was quite shocking. John had started to dismiss the statement by pointing out the shortfalls of kick-boxing, but Peter had again surprised him by interrupting to say he hadn’t meant there was a better style. Perplexed, John had asked what he meant. “Any human can be beaten by a werewolf.” John was relieved to hear it was a joke, but also slightly irritated that Peter was wasting his time. “A werewolf!” he’d scoffed. Then he’d said it; “I’m a werewolf.” .. .. The silence extended uncomfortably. John was lost for a reply. He looked at Peter, trying to interpret what he saw. Peter sat looking back at him, a blank canvas. He was betraying no emotion, but had a look about the eyes that John couldn’t define. John’s first reaction was to laugh it off, but some deeper instinct was warning him not to. It wasn’t the wary-of-further-embarrassment warning that prompted you to exit promptly when someone told you that they’d accepted an invisible friend as their personal saviour, or the other not suffering fools lightly imposition of the nutter on the bus. It was a warning of real danger. .. .. The silence was really dragging out now, and Peter was showing no sign of relieving it by word or deed. .. .. John had a book of autostereograms at home. He had bought it on a whim and been amused by how you could be looking at a seemingly random pattern and then suddenly your brain flipped it’s perception over and you were looking at a 3d image coming out of the page. That was what it was like. The silence dragging on, the look about Peter’s eyes, his instinct confusing him, […]
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