Looking for a motorbike

Genghis is still ripping the house to shreds but at last he has realised the meaning of the words, down, out and no. Admittedly this was learnt with the aid of a tap to the head. No this is not cruel, but telling him that jumping on the work surface just isn’t appropriate behaviour is some thing you cannot do with a cat. That type of explanatory nonsense is best left to sandal wearing veggie types who knit their own yoghurt live in Tee Pee’s and call their children Oscar and Pheobe.

Onto the week then, well sort of. Months ago The Beast and myself had decided we needed to become fit. We visited a gym and asked to be allowed in to look around. I wanted to check the facilities such as secure lockers, showers and changing rooms before I even ventured inside. I guess its not the sort of question you ask these days judging by the looks that the ladies on the kiosk at the entrance gave us. Eventually we got in after giving our name, address, phone number, age, occupation, marital status and I suspect would have asked us for DNA samples and the souls of our first born before we got to look around. We gave it a miss.

Yoga and Tai Chi is the way to go I exclaimed in a moment of inspiration fuelled by Carlsberg export and Gordon’s gin one quiet evening. TB agreed and we decided that Tai chi would be just the ticket. Not too strenuous, but just enough to stretch those muscles and get our hearts and lungs pumping again. To cut a long story short we went one evening a week or so ago and no one turned up. Feeling dejected after the build up of anticipation we headed back to Château Ghastanbury in despair and opened a few beers. We decided there and then we would give it another shot the following week.

Tuesday evening and TB and myself are in a class of people stretching, Bouji walking and breathing deeply in time to commands and music.  Perspiration streamed out of every pore I had and muscles I had forgotten I had ached. It is definitely not martial arts, its more like Yoga with venom but its still a work out and an hour passed all too quickly. By Wednesday morning I had problems walking and turning my head from the neck and head rolls I had performed the previous evening. Was it strenuous? yes. Was it fun, you betcha. Will I being going again? Most definitely!

Finally another close friend told me last evening that they intended to leave the UK and could possibly be gone before the end of summer. With those that have already left and those who have stated a definite time when they will leave, it would appear I have more friends out of the country than I do in it. When am I going? I hear you ask and what’s stopping me? Well I have a plan and it involves waiting until the housing market is back on its feet again. Meanwhile I am looking for a motorbike.

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