unironedman

Friday, 19th April. 10.41am. I go looking for my glasses as I sit down at the laptop to digest the latest spiralling madness from the globe. Now where did I put them? No, they are not on my head, dear reader. I am actually wearing them. I am officially old. It just happened. Just like that. Bugger…

I never officially went to an optician. I just recall getting ever closer to failing the jam-jar test when I hit fifty. This is a fool-proof method for testing your eyesight. I have written about it before…

You’re only as old…

Rather, I toddled off to the nearest Flying Tiger store and bought a pair for about 2.99. And anytime I’m in Aldi or Lidl and see some, I throw a pair or two into the trolley. 2 is about my strength. If you’re buying…

And that is currently how (eye)roll (No! ed.)

I was back in the gym on Friday morning. I’m still sort of feeling my way back into it. Which is to say, I’m really just faffing about. I’m using the bike to warm up rather than the rowing machine, and then I am picking bits from the old programme and dropping things that feel ‘iffy’. Essentially, iffy items include anything that puts strain on the lower back, so for now, I’m doing squats without weight on the bar (an Olympic bar is 20kgs). No bent-over rows. But according to the physio who saw me recently, it’s okay to do most of my current programme. Damn 😉

One downside to the whole falling off the roof thing is that I am pretty much back to square one with the gym. It’s like those last seven or eight months never happened. This year is really going to be one of rehab and trying to get back to where I was last year. But I have to have a large amount of gratitude to whatever stars are moving about around us that I even have that opportunity.

Today (Sunday 21st), I would have been running around Connemara with my good friend Gary, and hundreds of other souls, taking on the Connemara Ultra. They were absolutely blessed with the weather. Indeed, I cannot complain; the whole weekend has been marvellous. Of course, I chose this weekend, with Saoirse being away, to do some home decor. A real busman’s holiday. Saoirse and her friend were supposed to be going to see Manchester United take on Newcastle United in Old Trafford, but as the former club had progressed into the semi-finals of the FA Cup (also on today), that match was moved. But they went anyway, and instead of getting a train down to Manchester, they stayed in Liverpool and did tourist stuff, including visiting The Cavern.

I had decided to paint the wainscotting in the hall. Seemed like a simple enough task, and one I had bought the paint for several months ago. It was only this week that I felt up to the task. It meant moving a lot of stuff (our fault for having all that ‘stuff’) and then prepping the timber. And to make my life difficult, I was using oil-based paint. Good finish, of course, and tough enough to withstand a few knocks in what is a busy little passageway.

I made sure to complicate matters by painting both sides of the front door (it has been blue for the last 17 years or so) and then tile the well where the floor mats live. It’s about 7.30pm on Sunday and I am still wiping the grout. It does look smart, though. Worth the effort. Few tidy-up bits to do, but the hard work is done.

The morning started with the London Marathon, and congratulations to everyone who took part. All 50,000 odd of you. And there was a new Women’s World Record. And lots of good people doing wonderful things for charity, running in all sorts of weird and wonderful costumes. Fairly sure I saw a pantomime horse of some kind. And the obligatory firefighter running in full fire kit with a BA set on. Bloody overachievers! 😉

That’s enough giving out from me. And so to finish this mercifully short post with some more pretty flowers…