Exercise...

 

This morning I drew back the curtains to let in the morning light and the room got darker.  Someone had left the clouds out over night and they were refusing to move.  It was a dismal beginning to a day.  Scrambling through Twitter, emails, and the English media I decided to scribble words onto a screen.  By that time light was offering mere grey clouds instead of glowering black ones and as a result I decided to exercise.

Yes, exercise, something my heart is keen on but does not meet often.  Five minutes here, a bit of stretching there, a wee walk down to the basement to read the meter, stretch again, lift a weight, ooyah, put it down again, and return happily to the chair.

That slim exercise does indeed make me feel better.  Breathing improves, the body benefits, and I even smile at the mirror, this does not smile back.  Having done myself no geed a few weeks ago I am able now to exercise a bit and hopefully benefit more often from this.  Usually however, exercise brings out the bugs that follow me, and as I am supposed to go for a 'flu' jab I am now in two minds.  I could have a jab but fear this may stimulate a cold type situation.  I have to seek a Covid jab, but that also might have a reaction.  Now I am nonplussed as to what to do.  However, I missed both last year, I had Covid at the time, so may not bother again this year.  As per usual, whatever I do will be wrong.

A squabble has arisen over the return of Alec Salmond's body.  A request for the RAF to collect the body has been rejected as this, 'Is only for Royalty.'  £600,000 is supposedly the cost of returning the body but England do not appear to be in a hurry about it.  The government claim talks are under way, but that means little, I can see a 'Crowd funder' required to pay for this soon.

Stiff Sunday

 

Feeling good I decided to up the exercise.  That night I slept with the satisfaction of a good job well done.  The next day there was a bit of stiffness, ignored by me, and I just got on with doing very little in the usual manner.  For some reason stiffness after exercise takes longer to make a show off itself!  So this morning, as I rose and shone to the world, my back ached!  Slovenly I creaked about, struggling to get moving.  My knees were not happy, but that I could manage OK.  The back however, stiffened badly.  There was no point in going out, my head was not awake anyway, so I refused the offer of a lift as I could not move properly, instead spending some time walking around trying to loosen the back.  This I reckon should work by Tuesday.

After all these years I should know better.  I suffered this when working often enough, then however, I could keep moving so it did not hinder me, now I just sit slumped after another period of what some call 'loosening up.'   

This means tomorrow I must get back to exercise in the afternoon, as the only way to beat this is to keep moving.  This time of course I must also stretch better than before, that helps avoid this ache.  

'Age shall not weary them,' I know now what this means...

 

Monday Mumble

 

It is almost the end of August!  I am still living in May and this not helped by the weather still thinking it is March.  However, a mistake occured and in the afternoon the sun shone and forced me out of the house.  My back has joined my knee in aching, I did too much of the wrong exercise after a brief layoff, stiffness rules, so the weekend was spent indoors where I wasforced to indulge in a football frenzy so the chance to hobble around was welcomed.

This reminded me not to exercise like I was 25, it appears my body is a wee bit older now.  Most frustrating when you cannot do what you once did without thought.  OK, most things I have done appear to have been done without thought, that is why I have so few friends and changed jobs a lot.

 

 

Some are enjoying the fruits of their, or someone else's labour.  An open top MG, not unusual around here.  The sight of a sun brings out these creatures in summer.  I suppose having bought one you must use it whenever you can in this country.  When the sun shines such individuals race to the garage, probably two car garage round here, pull of the covers, start her up and out into the countryside.  A bit disappointing when you have to trail through the town rush hour however, unless you like showing off.The Essex lanes would appreciate this vehicle and the driver would be pleased with himself scooting around the back roads.

 

 

With Afghanistan filling the papers, thousands scuffling at the airport, 'our boys' trying to calmly support anyone in need, we realise that Boris and his leading men will once again be on the beach.  Just who is paying for their holiday has not yet been discovered, so we will watch who jumps into the Lords next time.  

The Army appears to be doing a good job in a difficult situation.  The US commander demanded the SAS cheif stop running around Kabul collecting UK folks and delivering them to the airport as this was embaessing the US.  Strong words were exchanged re this apparently and the SAS commander won.

I note Scots troops have now been sent out to aid the Paras at the airport, with Ben Wallace the minister now on duty, possibly the only one on duty, enjoying taking Boris's flak for him.

 

Holiday Monday

Morning arrived quite early today as it often does.  The early sun inspired me so much that long before eight I was engaged in exercising my knees to a painful level.  The stretching ensured that I had therefore to sit and ache for a while before stuffing myself with peanut butter covered brown (organic) bread before realising this was not the best option.

In an effort to avoid stiffening up I went for a walk down the hill.  Here stand houses dating back to the 13 -1400s.  This one stands close to a similar effort that forms the back end of a house on the corner.  I suspect that these once served workers from the nearby fields or possibly in the many weaver connected trades that flourished down this street.  I also suspect that once these had thatched roofs and were not so dainty as they now appear.  I suspect also they cost less that the vast price they go for today.  
Street Details

Essex houses, made of timber and plaster, often have patterns such as this on the walls sometimes covering the entire wall.  Whether the design has any significance I cannot say having found no information of the houses I pictured.  How long they have been there is also hard to tell.  These building go back several hundred years and have found many uses, Inns, weavers, dyers, various cloth trades (the 'Bays and Says' of the Flanders folk who worked here in the past were famous. No one receiving these goods checked them as they knew they would be correct and they would not be cheated.) and of course one pub remains but the shops have gone with the weavers and their cloth.

   
This fellow and his mate has been gracing the doorway off 'Wentworth House' since the 17th century but the house itself probably began back in the 1400s.  Over the years, as with all the others, it has spread from a mere hall, added rooms, workrooms and then another storey on top and until quite recently was in a mess.  Restoration has given someone an expensive but historical work of art.  

The smaller houses go back a bit also, these have interesting but not always genuine ancient items upon them.  Genuine in age maybe but possibly in some cases recovered from elsewhere.  This is one of three in a row, well decorated, brightly painted and costing a small fortune with a very busy main road outside the window.  Why do people buy there?

My limbs told me to head homeward so I eased my eyes by bathing them in greenery by the river.  This is a well kept spot but someone had chucked some files away at one place.  I was tempted, not to greatly, to jump in and seek my fortune but managed not to.  

Someone has been tending these trees for many years but I know not who.  This was merely a place for the river to overflow (sorry Texas) and now contains recent housing costing just under half a million.  I am sure they all have a  stock of sandbags at the rear nowadays.  

The reflection makes this picture a bit abstract and it takes some looking to understand it.  Lovely and quiet today, no kids yelling, no couples groping, no passers-by,  just the birds and the slow flowing river.  Flowing so slow I thought it had stopped.  Recently there has been a plan to put a number of (expensive) houses across the other side.  This has caused upset and will certainly spoil this walk and the view over the other side.  Money however speaks volumes!

This is what happens when thistles explode!  So be careful when passing them.

Having exercised, walked, eaten and slept I now sit here aching all over wondering why I bothered!  Tomorrow it is museum day and the last week of the holidays.  I expect thousands will come in tomorrow and many mums begin to long for the peace and quiet next week.  I will be longing for it also by lunchtime!
 

Workmen

Yesterday morn I was greeted by sunshine reaching through the kitchen window, starlings squabbling over the feeders and above streaks of blue mixing with white clouds.

Today I find gray clouds cover the earth, the streets damp with rain and at eight in the morning contractors using power drills and small JCBs to dig up the neighbours paved front garden! 

How am I supposed to hear Radio 3 with that cacophony in the background?

I sit here in the drawing room filled with the emanations from the rubbish bin that has required emptying for a while as four (Polish?) workmen do their best to make as much noise as they can while attempting to ensure the job lasts long enough to claim overtime.  I notice the woman next door has not yet appeared, either she did not expect them and is hiding in the back of the house or she is back in bed with her head under a pillow trying to avoid the noise.  

It is a small front of a bungalow and this was concreted over a while back to allow cars to park, possibly she wishes to amend this either to improve the house and raise the selling price or turn this back into a garden.  Either way it ought to be done when I am elsewhere I say.

Lunchtime has passed, the work next door has not completed yet.  If you take a large tin, fill it with stones and rattle it back and forward for thirty minutes, stop for five then begin again over and over then you will begin to understand what I have endured cheerily this morning. 

In spite of this I have continued to work (HA!) and even exercised as I must in a vain attempt to put life back into this fat bloated hulk of mine.  I was encouraged in this by the nurse, an adorable ex-Stasi Commandant, who offered me a choice of one hours exercise a day or twenty four hours of death a day, tact not being an attitude taught back in Berlin.

I therefore exercised for a while, straining and stretching and aching all over.  All this while the rattling stones outside bounced in their tin.  The small JCB has piled some of the concrete into a pile to be dumped in someones back lane when no-one is about while as yet the woman of the house has not shown her face.  It did strike me that these men possibly have arrived at the wrong house while she is on holiday.  This will give her something to boast about later will it not if that is the case?

It will soon be over, sooner if I find a shotgun!

Funnily enough in spite of the cacophony to my right I found myself accidentally falling asleep after a very healthy lunch (there were no pizzas left), strange how that happened but there you are.  Then as the noise continued I found work hard to cope with and, again accidentally, came across some Euro Champs League football on BTS which I had to watch.  Endure might be a better word as games at this period of the competition are often poor and mean little, especially with teams who's name you cannot pronounce and have not the foggiest where they come from.  

This passed the time until this big green lorry appeared and I knew the noise was about to abate.  He had arrived to remove the rubbish thrown up by the workers and as he left, narrowly avoiding the woman attempting to overtake him, the sound died away.  Now I feel like I have gone deaf as there is no sound, not even from the passing traffic which usually fills the air with rubbish and loud music while they queue up in the rush hour.  The mess left behind is a wonder to behold, mud stains the pavements, loose stones and earth lie all around.  I look forward to tomorrows toil, though in the meantime I had  look to see if they had brought down any of our walls, not yet they haven't.

Hard Work and People

The reason my back aches as much as the knees is this allotment.  Having an easy day they said, which meant working in the allotment.  The goods that grow organic like here are excellent and I wish I had a small garden in which to do the same.  However the bending, cutting, pulling and lifting are no longer aspects of my life and I have few thoughts of going back to them.  This did not make any difference to my friends!  In spite of their various health problems the work had to be done and therefore as I was the youngest and for unknown reasons considered the fittest I had to follow orders.  What was revealed was the level of fitness I possess, a near death experience I think it is called.  Having dragged me all over town, along the beach and up Mont Blanc, through Wareham and dumping rubbish at the council dump I can tell you I was ready for the Friday trip home.  The morning saw desperate prayer as I could not consider a long train trip tired as I was as a jolly.  Prayer of course worked and the trains, and the exchanges were as good as could be!  However by Friday morning I was worn out.  Monday sees me still recovering and my knees not keen on climbing stairs.

Again I embark on one of those exercise periods, this time I must continue this, otherwise I may well die.  

Dawn yesterday promised bad weather according to the proverb, remaining indoors I never really noticed how it went but it did not appear too bad to me.  Should we believe 'Farmers tales?'  There must be something in them as folks who work out of doors always watch the weather and little things attune them to the changes unseen by others.   

One thing about being back home is it means I do not have to watch others TV choices.  The missus relaxes after her hard work by making use of brain dead TV, 'Murder She Wrote,' 'Heartbeat' and 'NCIS' being the favourites.  These I watched with no remarks regarding the stilted acting, the bad scripts, the hairstyles (of the men!) or the endings, which were obvious, no I stayed quiet all through wondering if having my teeth pulled would make for more enjoyment.  

In 1978 I got rid of the TV.  I did without one until 1986 when the World Cup forced me to obtain a freebie when neighbours left for the richer suburbs.  Since then football, news, a documentary or two are about the only things I watch.  The so called drama these days is mere soap operas but soap opera with guns, explosions and near naked women, real original drama with new story lines, original events and proper acting appear rare.  Placed alongside a diet of house programmes and bloody cooks I find little of joy on telly these days.  There are good things available if you search hard enough but only rarely.  The demands of advertising force bread & circuses on commercial channels and the BBC appears intent o following them.  It's a disgrace I say!

However on the other hand sitting stuffing chocolates and other unhealthy foodstuffs down my throat as we gathered around the big screen was enjoyable.  Being with this my 'other family' is relaxing in other ways than forced marching.  I first came across them in 1971 when I entered a strange dark Baptist church in Notting Hill and spent a little time with them then as he ran his first attempt as church minister.  The place had almost closed a year before and he started with only a handful of people and left a thriving growing congregation behind when he moved to the coast.  There he took a thriving congregation and left them in a new building, a disused cinema costing a million pounds.  A great success at both places and all this leaving behind a sense of 'love' of the proper sort.  Of course they remain members of the church there but without the 24/7 stress, that belongs to others now. 

I would be nothing without them, they gave up so much time for me as they did and do for others, and I owe them much.  There are so many people I have met who have been good to me it is a wonder how so often I think only of the bad ones.  It is a truth that if ten things happen, nine of them being good ones, the one bad thing is what sticks in the mind.  We all have bad things happen to us and bad people abound, truth being we also do bad things to others but this we can justify to ourselves, these things happen and we just have to get on with it.  I am glad there are good people out there who read this and some who miss me when I am gone.  This surprised me somewhat as I thought you knew I was away but cheered me up a great deal to know you could not live without me.  What?....oh!  Anyway that made me happy.

Cats

Today, as promised, I gave myself over to exercise.  The weight must go and I ate healthily and exercised moderately.  I am now hungry, feel weak and ache all over.  My weight stays the same.  I suppose five minutes is not enough but it is the first time for a couple of months my knees have allowed me to do this.  I could not have done this last week.  Cue cries of pain...

I also wandered out a couple of times to look for happy smiling faces like the ones you see on adverts. None could be found.   Just where do all those sparking teeth go I wonder?  Billions of people strode manfully about pretending they knew what they were doing.  Most will be disappointed as this little town has few shops worth Christmas buying in.  My smug comment last night referring to having 'done Christmas ages ago' to a lovely lady allowed her to remind me of all she still had to do!  I did not mention the fun she gets for children, grandchildren and seeing happy faces, she might have bitten me. You know what women are like.

Cats are like women, their logic no man can understand.  This half Persian, half factory cat arrived as a kitten when my brother in law brought it home from the BMC factory.  It proved at that time to much for the kids, they were too young to appreciate it so it landed on us.  My fingers still have scratch marks from the brute!  It grew with its own personality, demanding tea when we all had one and wishing to run outside to check the land at one in the morning.  When the kid stayed with us she drank weak milky tea and one day we saw the cat drinking from it.  Eventually that cup became the cats and when we had tea a milky half cup was placed at the emperors feet so he could join in. A withering glance resulted if this was forgotten.

In those far off days the street lights were not that bright, adequate for the time as the traffic was much less.  Today zebra crossings, lights, flashing colours and bright beans illuminate that street while the traffic hurtles past non stop.  So much quieter here in the backwater.  However the cat wished to examine his patch.  I would find him sitting on top of me punching my face at half past one. This meant I had to get up, unlock the door, wander down to the back door of the building, open that and allow the brute to step outside.  This he did reluctantly while he perused the darkness.  Eventually, after a short eternity, he would race of round the corner of the building, I would close back door, open the front one and find him half inside the door staring into the dim light. Satisfied his kingdom was still there we returned to bed and sleep.

Today I would shoot him!

I noticed the film 'The Great Escape' was on one of the channels the other day. It has become so important to have this drivel shown every Christmas.  I much prefer the real story than one with Steve McQueen overacting.  All the channels have lined up vast amounts of mediocre dross for the season. Hopefully the radio will not disappoint.    

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Early Morn Bike

You will of course be delighted to hear that just after seven this morning I jumped - carefully - onto the bike and whizzed slowly around the streets.  The weather was quite gentle for a change, the sun almost shone and as I honed my bulk I found myself enjoying the strange experience of physical effort once again.  The weather, feeling poorly, and laziness being too busy has meant I have hardly been near the bike all year.  Once the cycling stops it is not easy to get back into it especially when the weather is lousy as it has been all year.  Leaving the bike I limped around the town watching the smiling people head for their workplaces.  How I envied them, but then I was just glad to get home and call the Thai Takeaway Curry House & massage people round to massage my knees for me.  Tonight I ache all over!  I suppose this means I am not fit and healthy?

Did you realise that there are more plastic surgeons keeping people beautiful in Brazil than anywhere else?  I would have thought the US would have more but Brazilians are the ones desperate to remain young all their lives, at least those who are rich at any rate.  The poor, and there are many in Brazil, have to exercise, preferably on the beach where the beautiful people show themselves to the world.  Something about all this does not attract me.  The desperate having their face lifted often look worse afterwards, regular ageing and making the best of themselves makes people look better than any surgeon can manage.   Of course some have real reason to go under the knife but the faces filling the media are always broken people looking to be loved or just for attention.  Me myself have retained my handsome feature through living a good life and being naturally Adonis like.  What? ........Oh!

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Ouch! Creak! Ooooyah etc

It may come as a surprise to some when I say that my once svelte like body is not what it once was.  Once it contained energy, possessed a certain degree of muscle, and happily took me on long walks, carried me through a busy day, and enabled me to throw the TV out the window whenever a soap opera appeared on the screen.  Sadly today all this is becoming a memory.  The strange lethargy the recent bug brought me led me into sitting around and walking only when that was required.  The lying scales even told me I was over 15.5 stone, it ought to read 9.  The knees wobbled if I went far and the body willingly followed suit indicating I had gone far enough.  However in the past few days I have attempted to refine the Adonis like shell and have begun to swing a few weights, as opposed to swinging lead, and attempted to walk further and eat better.

I ache everywhere now!

Resting from my arduous training schedule, and ten minutes is long enough I can assure you, I sit for merely a moment and find all the muscles have seized.  Now I know the trick is to stretch after exercise as this really does help, but so far it doesn't help me.  My knees fell of twice this afternoon while watching the far from Dreich Dundee Derby Day, and while I cogitate on buying a Thai bride to massage my aching back I find that my fingertips are also suffering from hammering away on this laptop!  It's a good job I am not one to complain I can tell you.  Now I find I have to go into town tomorrow, struggling with the trains, and it will be baking hot again.  Tsk!

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Exercise

This building here houses one of those gyms so popular today with certain types.  Behind the darkened glass running along the length of the building, on the right of the picture, it is just possible to make out figures exercising.  These folks are using running machines, weight machines, stretching and straining and then returning to their cars to rush home and sit on the couch. As I passed, on my bike, I wondered if leaving the car at home and walking to the gym would be a better idea?  Maybe walking more, sitting less, and dumping the TV might be beneficial for the body and cheaper on the wallet?  Spending time at a  desk, in a car, on a couch I can assure you does the figure no good whatsoever.  I say this as  a lithe ten stone muscular chap myself  (pictures available for cash) but observing the people in this town shows me I am right.  The idea of paying money, and a lot of money at that, to exercise after a week of sloth might seem a good one, but is it really?  Do the girls who use the gym do so for health reasons or for their looks?  Are the men thinking a muscular body will bring the lassies rolling in, I have never found so myself, personality tends to be better I find, or not in my case.  Looks attract but many lovely girls are just poison, and muscle bound males are often as thick as their biceps.  I confess it is good to feel healthy, we all benefit from that, but less sloth leads to health cheaply.  Men digging holes in the road have cardiac responses of athletes, can we be surprised while working at such a job?  Builders must be of similar health, yet a muscle bound clot in a suit may be more trustworthy to some because of his outfit.    For me it's time to be healthy and I once again attempt to exercise.  I done five minutes yesterday, walked around the block, and went back to bed.  Today I left out the walk.....




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Fat Slob

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As the year has advanced so far I decided it was time for the first bath. I took my self off into the bathroom, blocked up the gaps that allow the cold air to creep in and spoil everything, cleaned the grime from the bath, and turned on the hot tap. This always makes me shudder as when the gas boiler lights the meter turns so quickly it would make anyone but a Conservative minister quake. Add to this the cost of water and watch the shareholders gather outside to applaud my actions. However I kept the light off to save money as I can bathe in the dark, I know where most things are, but was forced by the cold hanging about in the air to use the bar heater! How annoying! The electric, naturally, costs more than any other item used! The stupidity of selling off the nations energy for short term gain may be lost on a wealthy Thatcher but this now means we pay vastly more for a dubious service than we would have done under the crumbling previous system. Still, some folks make money from it, certainly the Conservative MP's and their lackeys, plus all those foreign power owners! In the nineteenth century Joseph Chamberlain,  who became one of the major movers in Empire building, nationalised the various Gas and water companies to benefit the people of Birmingham where he was Mayor. How come Thatcher could not see that as sensible?  How come her small shopkeeper approach put money before need?


The water rose as quickly as my overdraft as I divested myself of my filthy garments, hmmm might be time to use that washing machine, and then placed my lithe 8 stone body onto the scales. Then it was I heard a creaking sound and the platform on which I stood leant over to the left and a bent piece of metal flew out the other side and embedded itself into the cheap hardboard that forms the side of the bath. The dial raced round so fast it came loose. Hmmm I thought, did I overdo the Christmas sweets?  In this state the machine managed to inform me that I was now just over fifteen and a half stone of slob and not what I had been considering myself to be. This was a disappointment and means I must start those exercises I keep beginning and forgetting to finish. In fact lifting a few weights, walking - in a downpour - and running on the spot may well be good for you but doing housework is actually using more muscles. I think dancing to the Beatles early tunes also has beneficial effects - as long as no-one is watching! So that is now what I must attend to, however I think I may well have lunch first, just in case I am too weary to finish...

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A WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM

Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, I  purchased a week of personal training at the local health club.  Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.

Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
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MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00 am. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god-- with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile.  Woo Hoo!!

Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines.. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!

Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around.

This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!
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TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it!  My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile.  His rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!  It's a whole new life for me.
_______________________________
WEDNESDAY:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it.  I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals.  Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.
Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair monster.  Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?  Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life.  He said some other shit too.
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THURSDAY:
Asshole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl.  I couldn't help being a half an hour late-- it took me that long to tie my shoes.
He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom.  He sent some skinny bitch to find me.
Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine-- which I sank.
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FRIDAY:
I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anaemic, anorexic, little aerobic instructor.  If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.
Christo wanted me to work on my triceps.  I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.  Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
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SATURDAY:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today.  Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel..
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SUNDAY:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over.  I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun-- like a root canal or a hysterectomy.  I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!

Exercise

So this morning I got my bulk onto the bike and toddled around for a short while. I sauntered along the old railway enjoying the noise of the birds and the warmth of the sun. And warm sun at eight in the morning is an unusual occurrence around here. The line was littered with an assortment of bird life pecking at the pathway. Just what they were after I could not see but, invisible to the human eye, something was down there that attracted all the birds, Thrushes, Pigeons, and Dunnocks, etc. They all treated me with contempt, some loudly informing me where to go. I find a strange enjoyment while making my way along here. I tend to think it is all those years in London, the window of my slum faced east and while the view was tolerable the sun disappeared round the corner after midday! Now I cannot get enough of the daylight, the trees, birds and countryside that is around here, however boring that may be.

Party will not spend their way out of recession, but they will ensure more for their friends! I worry not however, as I ought to be faithful to the God who never leaves us. Maybe I should start this now? When I returned, weary and worn, I discovered my weight had gone down to just above When I weighed myself, to a strange creaking sound, I discovered the soup and bread I had been stuffing myself with, as part of a calorie controlled diet, has increased my bulk to fifteen and a half stone! It was supposed to go the other way. I may have to use smaller lentils I think. So later in the day I walked to the edge of town to Tesco's big shop there and was diddled by the fat chav bitch on the counter. Fifty pence she nicked. I will check on her later. Promenading along I indulged in another bout of guilt at those who still had to force themselves into work each day. By telling myself I have already encountered some forty years of such work made me feel better, but not for long! However the recession may well continue for some time, and under the next government, which will be Tory, the unemployed will have more stress put on them and less help. Their numbers will also increase, possibly more than doubling as the Conservativefifteen stone. This says much for the heat out there!

Aching knees did not stop me going out in the afternoon once again. The strength given by Lentil soup (without bread) enabled me to walk in the other direction. This route takes me through the delightful small industrial estate where I wondered if work may be available. As five members of one company were sitting in the sun at the back door, at the busiest time of the day, I reckoned they do not need my help. I came back through the railway but this time the walk was spoiled by all the mums gathering to fetch the brats from the school along there. Apart from the noise, loud chatter, laughing, screaming, and the kids are as bad, all these young mums walk too fast for me and I canny keep up! Anyway I am now just above fifteen stone, have red patches all over, and my knees feel as if they will fall apart soon. Health appears to be round the corner! What a way to spend a birthday. Mind you that reminded me of how lovely the family is. I am glad they are my family!

Fair Scunnered Ken?

I have been fair scunnered quiet a lot in recent days. Over eighteen months on the dole, having nothing to offer and few jobs available often leaves me this way. All I need is a Daily Mail reader to cry, 'Get these people to work and out of the pubs where they spend their days drinking my money,' and I can appreciate the motivation of the local axe murderer, (and there is a few of those around here I can tell you!). However after sending out letters and CV's, talking to anyone who might have an opening, e-mailing a wide variety of uninterested employers, and applying for totally unsuitable work just because it's available can be depressing. It is all the more depressing when you really believe you have a good chance of work and then get a letter, that is if you get a letter, turning you down.

“Dear Sir,

We regret to inform you that someone younger/fitter/more female/who

can actually do the job/and get on with us lot, has been given the work.

Please accept our regrets, we are doing OK, so sod off and die!

Thank you.

The failure becomes more noticeable when watching other folks make a right hash of their work while knowing you could do it yourself better than they. 'They' however have the face that fits, the right age, know the boss or wear tighter jeans than your £3 offering from Tesco! But it was ever thus! Life is not fair, and I have a bucket full of torn Lotto tickets to prove it! Just why do inane folk who will greedily consume (and waste) several million pounds on themselves and their chav progeny win the Lottery? Why does it not go to those who will use the cash for the benefit of mankind? Well, for some of them anyway.... But in truth this is how it has always been. Life is not fair, and you just have to get on with it!

(Short break while I burst into tears – again)

Now I should not be in this position. I know God loves me, and recently reminded me it was he was went looking for me, not me for him. I didn't care a whit about him but he came looking for me! Fantastic! But while this is good it does not mean life is smooth! After all, if Jesus went for a job and another, more needy, also applied, would he not step aside and let them have the work? For him the other would be more important than himself, and God would supply his needs anyway – even if they did not meet his wants! Our wants and desires do not fit in with our ability to obtain them or his to provide! When unemployed and in a state of poverty it is really amazing what we can live without. Now I am not starving, the days of the 'soup kitchen' are thankfully gone in the UK, but in many parts of the world there are riots caused by food shortages. Should I complain? Travel is limited, I have not been in Edinburgh since February last year, and will not be there soon unless someone falls ill. I know what you are saying, 'They have not missed you!' And you would be right! But it means I cannot buy for others what I wish to buy, and this is a blow at times.

Something will turn up. I suppose I must look for, and accept, anything that is offered, even if I do not like it. I am not unwilling to take the lowest place, in fact that may be a step upwards! And of course I am actually looking and not finding much available. So, with a clear conscience I look for work and enjoy the free time, and continue to lose weight slowly. I can enjoy the blogs, read my books, (Livy's 'History of Rome' at the moment) and exercise as I have just endured this morning. Those dumbbells are difficult to lift eh? The schedule says they must be increased to a full kilo altogether tomorrow and I am not looking forward to that! Phew!

Now, is it time for a coffee break yet......?

Life Goes On.....

So, deciding that the laptop needed replacing I considered my options. Dig out the old PC that lies gathering dust awaiting repair maybe? Well I asked my postman mate who is famed for his ability at fixing PCs to fix it for me, and when I mentioned the fault his eyes widened, he mumbled some excuse and avoided me for weeks. I saw him recently and informed him I needed this PC fixed urgently and, as you might expect, one week later I heard he had obtained a transfer to the Shetland Isles! Whether this was because of his personal life, his desire for a closer look at the 'Northern Lights,' or his unwillingness to tend to my needs I am unsure.

The second option entailed the computer shops around here. One being a small dingy place run by what I guess is an old lag who learned about computers during his time inside. No doubt he would do a good job, but what would this cost, and where is my watch gone anyway? Along the road lies a more reliable company, well established and growing in size, however I may be cheaper buying a new BMW Series 7 like the owners rather than pay what they will charge. So, without complaining I obtained a PC on E-Bay for £140. At last a superior machine which will help in so many ways to make my life worthwhile.

Naturally it has failed to work properly!

I set the thing up and immediately it worked. I happily added those things that took up so much needless space on the old machine and sat back to enjoy – except for the floppy disk that would not work. It keep saying 'insert disk in 'A,' ' after I had inserted disk in 'A.' I have a lot of floppy disks and I want to know what is on them! At this moment I am still being held in suspense! A few days later I played a disk on the CD-Rom and it stopped for no reason. However I did download some stuff onto disk and all seemed well again. The PC mind is clearly female! Then while playing Simon and Garfunkel the CD-Rom stopped playing a second time and promptly disappeared! Maybe it was the wrong CD?

However the service chap has been helpful, and among other things has sent an installation disk for me to reinstall XP pro. Not having a clue I just stuck it in and let it run and hoped. To my surprise the CD worked, and it installed, I thought. It made no difference, except the CD reappeared – and the sound disappeared! The floppy remains dead. No doubt the proper tech engineer would uninstall the XP first and reinstall properly, but I am wavering about this as my tech ability is akin to Britney Spears ability to keep out of the news, none whatsoever! I now sit here downloading billions of different views in the 'Easy way to fix it' type message. I cannot say I am encouraged.

On top of this my exercise programme, cycling, stretching, walking and complaining is now hindered by the rain which has escaped from the north of Scotland and is depositing itself down here in England's driest county. The farmers who have desired rain for the crops growth will no doubt appear on telly tomorrow complaining the rain has damaged the farms. As a professional complainer one must admire farmers who can complain far more resolutely than even a taxi drivers can!

Now this weather is not too much of a hazard as I am knackered from walking too far after too little exercise and that is not a good idea. However, encouraged by some famous pop star, of whom I had never heard, speaking of coming down from 15 ½ stone to 13 ½ like I want to, I am encouraged to continue. Tomorrow, if dry enough, I will attempt to cycle up the old railway, then continue the fruitless job search. Ah the job search, how do you find work for a 56 year old, no-nothing idiot? The folk at the job shop have given up! The lottery fails me, and God is not indicating anything obvious – except get up and look, but where boss? Hmmmm, I think I need my lunch, then I will consider this again – unless I fall asleep.

The Morning Cycle Ride

Shrouded in gray damp mist I wandered off on my morning 'get fit' cycle ride. This consists of struggling along being overtaken by schoolkids on BMX bikes designed for jumping over skate board ramps, and old folks with zimmer frames meandering past me as I come to the hilly bits. However I ignored their comments as well as I ignored the pain in my knees. The ides of cycling was to provide stamina, long lost while looking for work (unsuccessfully so far), but all it does is revive the aches left from the postie job! Now I'm not one to complain but when I feel worse after the ride than before I feel something may be amiss!

Today I ventured along quite happily around the old postal round. Because of the changes to the postal routine introduced by the madmen who now run Royal Mail very few postmen were to be seen. The time changes have altered everything and I suspect the new, man on my old round would be far from ready to begin by the time I creaked past. Eventually postmen will work from 7-3, this means deliveries on most rounds will not appear till around 9 am or later. Still, folk complain when they strike but not about the loss of the service element nor the increase in prices which, soon to be, privatisation will bring. What a shame change could not be brought by sensible management!

But I digress again. I find I often digress these days, I am not sure if it is Alzheimer's or just being 56 years old that does it. They say that after fifty you spend an hour a day 'just looking for things,' I agree! Back to the bike. I pushed it along at a marvellous speed, for me, and noted the changes a year brings. The round covered a 'rough' area and some quite nice streets, although I always liked the folks there and enjoyed the work. Some folks have moved on, possibly more have failed to keep up the payments on the house bought from the council, the 'Right to Buy' idea being one of the stupidest of Thatchers reign. I noticed the fellow from No 6 must have moved, there was no broken windows to be seen, of course he could be inside again. The old woman who used to annoy me so much must have died, she would never have allowed them to knock down the fence so they could park the car in the lawn, and the Thomson's seem to have moved. She did not like me as she always complained of getting mail for next door by mistake. When I took over this occurred again, and she was real unhappy. The folks next door were not the nicest you see, and she worried they had her mail, an easy mistake a 6 and an 8 looking similar to a postman in bad light. Naturally I informed her that it was not me but the other chap and I would look out for her. Next day I gave her No 8s by mistake! How do you spell wrath?
However even after a year away other folks did remember me, and that is always nice is it not, it means I have made a mark in their lives, the bricks however all missed.

Another small point I noticed today was the Englishman and his approach to the weather. As the day started murky and misty, as the weather forecast told us it would slowly clear, and quickly come back again, how does the average Englishman dress? In shorts and T-shirt of course! He struts about in shorts designed for Greece, with his sunglasses balanced on his shaven head, designer polo shirt or grubby T-shirt with 'I'm with Stupid' scrawled across it, and thinks he looks cool! He must be, every other person you meet has a warm jacket of some sort on! Just because the sun is shining and the sky is blue does not mean it is warm. The sun is shining and the sky is clear and very blue at the South Pole but it is 40 degrees below! Tsk!

Tub of Lard!

Now I am not sure where the copyright for this picture originates so if it's yours let me know won't you? However it goes well with my thoughts that arose while watching a BBC2 prog about fat tubs of lard improving their diet, and this encouraged me to do the same- again!

Just how many times have I returned to the raw veg and fruit intake diet? It happens every so often and you find yourself cutting celery, carrots, tomatoes and peppers into strips, adding a tin of mackerel and brown bread filled with healthy bits, and with a dash of

mayonnaise (light) you start full of zeal. Of course this keeps you on the run for a while but sheer lack of time, and the effort required means you soon find yourself stuffing buns bought cheaply when Salisburys are near closing instead of Bulgar wheat and watercress.
Somehow it seems more satisfying.

The scales lie and tell you that you are nearly 16 stone- minus a pound or two, but you just convince yourself that is because they need oiled. In fact you are the one that has been oiled - with lard!

Such an improved diet does lead to a better all round feeling, instead of just an all roundness, and is worth while I say. It does make me feel better in every way, and makes me more keen to find some form of fitness to accompany the health. Amazing really, I used to walk

everywhere in London, for hours, with no problems. Now I can hardly walk without the 'postman's knees' strain aching away. It was while I walked for two hours round the forest and decided it was stupid aching like that when I realised that was the end for me as a postie. The arthritis was a bit of a surprise and a worry but the creaking knees are a nuisance.

Now this diet has already had benefits and I have only been at it a short while, days as yet, and already things are better. But already I am sick of peeling carrots and chopping green stuff! This is hard work! Cutting, cleaning, scraping, shredding, slicing, no wonder today's mums buy ready made meals for the kids.No wonder the kids are less healthy than we were with our mums potato soup instead of a quick burger and chips!
That potato soup kept us alive and done us more good than what is on offer in far too many houses today. Women want a career but what is more important, children or career? Kids first and when your career collapses they will be big and strong and able to keep you! I can understand the effort needed in cooking is a trial, I hate it.I just want someone else to cook as it holds little joy for me, but the eating is something I can usually manage however. What on earth makes men want to become cooks? Are they mad?

Anyway, 'eat well and prosper' as someone once said.......

On Being an Idiot

Some people find it hard to be an idiot. They strive to achieve such a level and feel emotionally drained at being nothing more than a success. I understand how they feel. I have discovered that being an idiot is not just a talent one is born with, one has to practice this also. I can assure my reading public, if you exist, that this practice is something I have become good at.

My idiot exercises take place from the moment I rise and find myself standing at the wrong side of the bed, it usually takes a few moments before realising the window is not the door. Exercise continues with loading up a owl of cereal and pouring milk all over it, and not realising until too late the milk went off yesterday. The lumps at it landed ought to have made this clear, but the real idiot will not be looking as he pours anyway. Before he leaves for work, if he manages to obtain and keep employment one must ask if the idiocy is actually fully attuned, the idiot will manage to lose at least one shoe, leave the gas on, and at the very least, forget to lock the door. Failure to do one of these actions would ensure you fail the idiot exam. However, I prefer to avoid those particular actions and specialise in practising leaving without my keys thus forcing me to stand outside for a considerable time, often in the rain, until rescue arrives.
This is a star idiot action!

However, now we must conclude for today as I have forgotten the rest of my teaching. So please continue chatting amongst yourselves while no-one is listening to you, missing buses, tripping over your feet when greeting important people and walking out of shops genuinely forgetting to pay.

Exercise

OK so the weighing machine groaned when I stood on it, and the plastic cover on the dial flew off, but that does NOT make me fat! Anybody who is out of work and spending too much time sitting at a broken computer could easily put weight on. Especially when it rains outside, or the neighbours complain about the noise up above them. This hinders exercise you must understand.
However, when said machine creaked a wee bit and the dial read 16 and a half stone (that's 231 lbs to the uneducated) I decided something must be done.
So it was out on the bike, along the flat streets a couple of days, and up the old railway line yesterday. Would do that more often if those dog walkers waited until I passed. You have no idea how many pooches wait until you cycle up to them then meander in front of you! Today I not only went down the flat road, and the long way round, I also walked for a while in the sunshine.

Now I realise just how unfit I have become. Puffing and panting in a way I did not do four years ago! Working for Royal Mail did my knees no good at all. I used to go long walks but now struggle after half an hour. Losing weight will help, but I wonder if the knees will ever be the same? The arthritis under the right knee won't help, but that also makes me walk at an angle. This is something that is getting worse. I came across Nina a few weeks ago and she was shocked at the change. That was worrying. However, with the cycling and walking, with the weights I lift and the other exercises I reckon I will lose the fat stomach, feel better, think better also, or give up and be a slob! Things must change. getting a job, with the routine etc that goes with it would help, and being healthier might help me get a job. What kind of work needs fat slobs.

And when were are on the subject, why do folks use the word 'obese' in the media when they refer to fat folk? Are they ashamed? Or is 'fat' not educated enough? pretentious misuse of words by the media folk I guess. I am heading for 'fat,' and that in the big belly area at that. Not 'obese,' just 'fat,' and it's disgusting!