. . . and stretch!
If pain at the back of the legs indicates dedication to
cycling, then I am dedicated. I am
beginning to think that all this much-vaunted belief in the positive power of
exercise is much over rated.
My knee
joints, it must be admitted are not the finest articulating things in the
world, but they did work without feeling as though someone has wrapped clumsy
weights around them. Now, after a week
of cycling, this is not the case. The
pain, such as it is, is a ‘surround’ discomfort and I am working on the basis
that this is merely muscle, rather like the alien I have just been watching in
a most unsatisfactory film, suddenly called into action after a considerable
time being quiescent.
Having been
called into more stringent duty that they had heretofore been expected to
complete, my muscles are rebelling. And
something must be done.
I have
therefore decided to revert to what I always (usually) [sometimes] did before
playing squash or badminton – I will stretch my muscles before I put foot to
pedal. This will be, I am sure, the
panacea and all manner of things will be well.
And anyway,
there are only a few more weeks to go and I will be able to sink behind the
wheel once more! At least just before
and after I have my swim!
Rebellion!
There are some things you do because you have always done
them. Unthinkingly and with a sense that
this is how life should be led. They are
the basics which make up the ethos that propels you through life. Things that you can sink back on in times of
trouble and feel that this, at least, is right.
So it is
troubling, to say the least, that I find myself – after a lifetime – going back
on something which I have never even had cause to question.
As far back
as I can remember – and this I know because somewhere I still have evidence of
my childish faith in books which I slavishly kept – I drank PG Tips. It was the tea of choice, there was no other.
In Spain,
one of the first things that I did was search out a place where this need could
find the raw material to be satisfied.
And I found it – albeit in a French supermarket chain, but I found a
supply of tea bags with the requisite trademark.
It has
taken me some time, but I now realise that I have been denying the truth, the
truth that I actually prefer Ty-phoo tea.
How can this have happened?
I have
rationalised it of course, it must, I have told myself be something to do with
the quality of water. I am used to the
softness of Welsh water, whereas here in Catalonia, as I am fond of saying, I
don’t know how something so full of calcium actually makes it out of the
taps. To say our water is hard is . . .
and fit in simile or image of your choice . . . and to be frank it is the same
for Ty-phoo as it is from PG Tips, but, there it is, after all these years a
change of taste.
Something I
will have to learn to live with as I spit my traitorous cuppa!
Open-ended
The writing of the pro forma for the outline of the work
that I intend to do for the end of course module which takes the place of the
examination in the Open University for my art course is proving to be a damn
sight more tricky that I thought it would be.
Some
things, like my bibliography, seem to have taken on a monstrous life of their
own, but the actual title and the fiddly little details are tantalizingly out
of reach.
They will
have to come to reach in the next 24 hours as the thing has to be handed in and
I have to go to Barcelona on Wednesday.
So, the whip is being metaphorically applied and, as usual, in spite of
moaning, I will probably manage to get something winging its electronic way.
This is a
real opportunity for my tutor to come up trumps. She does know much more than I, and she can
make or break my long essay by her suggestions.
She seems to be ‘fairly’ on board at the moment and I only hope that the
sense of fellow travelling will extend itself to fairly concrete suggestions
for the ‘bits’ in my proposal that I have somewhat glossed over!
In a
strange sort of way I am looking forward to this project becoming reality and
words actually making it to the screen, because I am interested to see what the
end result will be. Because I don’t have
a clear idea at the moment. And that, I
think, is a good thing. I hope.
Editing
I am at the stage in my book where I am thinking of the
order in which the poems should be published.
Thinking is not doing, and I am justifying my laziness by telling myself
that I have more pressing academic problems.
How easy it is to write about problems rather than doing something about
them. It was ever thus and, as I have
made that a way of life, don’t knock it!
