Category: Uncategorized

I was trying to keep my fitness up and maybe start to build towards triathlon fitness next year by doing bike work and exercises while I rest my hoof. It’s been nigh on two months of no running and my foot is still tender. Not actually painful, but not nothing, like my right foot. So as soon as I return to running I know it’s going to flare up again. I’ve stopped the bike training and exercises to try and fully rest it. I still cycle into work, but it’s only 2.6 miles each way, that’s hardly anything.

I was beginning to think no matter what I did it was never going to heal. Then one of my friends on Twitter said I should see the physio. I had a lot of email advice from him for free during lockdown, but that can’t compare with a proper, physical, examination. It’s a great idea. I’ve emailed him and I’ve got an appointment for next Monday. It’s 17.00hrs in Stockport, so I’m going to have to go on the motorbike. Rush hour traffic around the M60 (Manchester ring road) is atrocious. Hopefully that will put me on the road to full recovery.

I went around to Lisa’s last week, to see my mam. Lisa asked me what it meant when she was braking from speed the car pulled to one side. I said it was probably the tracking was out. (Though, thinking about it, it could just as easily be one brake failing). She is working full time and still can’t afford to live, so I said we’d pay for it. Get it done, it’s dangerous. Then my mam said the brakes feel spongy. Lisa said “Oh yeah, they said the brake pads were nearly worn out at my last MOT”. Spongy is a different thing, probably need the brakes bleeding, but get the pads done as well. Now. We’ll pay for it. “No, it’s alright, I’ll get it done in January when it goes in for the MOT.”

I’ve been practicing my typing and I’m getting better at it.

The quick brown fox does indeed jump over the lazy dog.

Still have to remember to use the wrong hand for the B. As a result I may have to buy a yacht so I don’t have to keep typing “boat”. I don’t make the rules.

I find myself back in the same old rut, obsessing over buying stuff, even in the light of self knowledge. Somewhere down the line I’m going to need a car with a towing hook. And I find I’m loathe to use my “toy” motorbike. It’s a sunny day, fun machine. I don’t want to take it out in nasty weather and ruin it. Which is being owned by possessions, and a different subject.

So that leaves me here. Going into winter without a workhorse bike, or car.

So, if I need a car, I might as well get one. Then I’d have wheels to get to my boat club, and room to carry my kit, and towing capability down the road when I want to move my boat.

I’ve been reworking my story lately. I’ve decided to do it as a short story. I’m not happy with consistency of it, in keeping with what I now know to be the rationale to it, but I have a beginning, middle and end. I will be pleased just to actually finish one of my stories. This means I’ve been doing lots of typing. I’ve been using the laptop quite a bit and I realised I actually prefer the layout of the keyboard. It’s not something I’ve ever considered. I just muddle through with the touch typing, losing my place on the home keys every now and then. The laptop set up had a big red button in the middle of the keyboard so you stay centered. Once the idea took hold that you can get a better keyboard I had a look.

Look at this beast I’m trialing as we speak.

A clear division of hands, curved to fit the shape of your hands, and built-in wrist rests. When I get the hang of this I’m going to be way better. The one problem I’ve noted, being self taught, is that I use the wrong hand for the B. I keep trying to reach my right hand over and I’m hitting the N. It will probably be a good thing when I correct it.

He was dead!

In a frozen, frantic, second he took it all in. His own face reflected in Kasabian’s mirror sunglasses. (How was that his face? He’d never seen it before.) The pistol in Kasabian’s hand. (Who was Kasabian? Why had he shot him?) The realisation he was a second from death. (Who was he?) His lifeless fingers falling away from the pistol in it’s shoulder holster (Why did he have a pistol? Human life is sacrosanct, he could never kill someone.) The deck of the boat rising to meet him as his body fell limp.

A frenzy of information assailed his mind while a mania of questions threatened his sanity.