…as the woman you feel. Or so the old gag goes. Yes, it’s a terrible joke, but it’s Groucho’s, not mine. In my case, making this smoothie gave me reason to pause and reflect on when I started the blog a few years back, and health matters in general. Well, to be honest, mine, to be more specific…
The above concoction is a smoothie I made the other day. It’s got most of the standard stuff I bang in; nothing scientific here at unironedman. A banana first, followed by a good handful of whatever berries are in the fridge, so usually some blueberries, raspberries and blackberries. Then a good few dollops of plain yoghurt, and a good splash of fruit juice to ‘let it out’ a bit. Then, in this case, a good shake of some linseed mix (and other seeds, but I’d have to check the packaging to see, and I really don’t think any of us care that much… all I know is that the little bastarding things stick to the side of the glass and are a bugger to clean off) plus the magic ingredient… spirulina. Or pond scum, as kids would know it. Or (eurgh!) a superfood, rich in protein, antioxidants and vitamins. But yeah, it still looks like powdered shit to me.
Yeah, well screw you, says cyanobacteria. I personally terra-formed the planet with my aerobic greatness so you gobshites could come along a couple of billion years later and fuck it all up again. And don’t call me algae, baby. I’m a prokaryote, not a eukaryote. Those fuckers think they’re so clever with their nucleus-this and membrane-that…
Okay, that’s enough from the green stuff. Get back in the bag. I’ve just blended you into a smoothie with my marvelous Lidl blender, which I have to say in all honesty, I didn’t think would last this long (we started this blog together). There’s still a distinct burning smell off the motor when I use it. The resulting purple sludge wasn’t too bad in the event. I’m just trying to stay fit and healthy.
I am only months away from turning 50. No big issue with that, but what’s interesting is to note the steady decline of one’s faculties. Clearly, the hair left a long time ago. The wee bit of pace I had in the legs leaches away each year. I know my hearing is a bit buggered from all the loud rock music over the years (standing in front of loud guitar amps has knocked out a few frequencies alright), though we get tested in the fire service every few years, and I pass all the required tests, including hearing. And I rock the step test, of course, with a nice straight line on the graph, though at my age, I’m allowed on the lower step, ha ha!
But the one test I have developed myself, and will patent shortly, is called the Jam Jar Test. It involves trying to read the label on a jam jar, and realising you need to hold the damn thing at arm’s length in order to read the fine print. My eyesight is very good, but when you get a little older, the muscles around the eye that help with focusing lose a little zing, and the lens stiffens up to boot. All told, it means you have a harder job focusing on things. And hence the jam jar is held further away. How far away is a simple guide to how old you are, and how buggered your eyesight is. I’m just around the 12″ mark at the moment. If I had more time, I’d design a nice graph with lovely colours to show you how buggered you are. But I don’t.
And yes, this is highly scientific. I am writing up a peer-reviewed paper for the British Medical Journal as we speak. After that gets the rave reviews I expect, I will work on my next paper, entitled: “Cyanobacteria, social media, and the superfood paradigm: a discussion document on the relationship between how healthy a product is in comparison to how much it tastes like faecal matter from the decaying bowels of a whale carcasse.”