Being at home a bit more than usual over the last few days whilst I fought off the latest gymnast-borne infection (see previous post!), and whilst the innermost contents of my lungs decided to reveal their disgusting colour (and taste – no, let’s not go there), I seem to have become the neighbourhood ‘agony aunt’. Neighbours wandering across the yard as I sat miserably under a tree: ‘Oh, aren’t you so well, Tony? Oh dear… you don’t know how I suffer with coughing, actually I think it’s lung cancer but the doctor won’t tell me… Ronnie across the street, he had something like that. It finished him off, you know. Only 45, poor soul…‘
‘Well, yes, Mrs. ******** I really appreciate you telling me that, just when I discovered I can’t run more than 200 yards without gasping for air, and I’m supposed to be fit…’
Well, it could be worse. I’m a stoical Brit, after all. ‘Mustn’t grumble…‘, to quote Eric Idle from ‘The Life of Brian’… ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life…’! By the way I make no apology for the Brit spelling of ‘neighbour’ up above – living in Tennessee isn’t going to stop me from using ‘proper’ English. Actually, some US readers of my books have criticised exactly that, since they are set mainly in the US as well. But published in England, so you get the Queen’s English…
For UK (and other) readers I guess I should explain that the ‘gardens’ of houses here are not individually fenced and folks tend to roam freely across our “yard”, as I must call it I suppose. One reason we need to wear shorts to streak across to our training cabin at the far end.
Anyway, it’s all going away at last. Dave is prepared to come within 50 yards of me again, there’s a new Royal baby (“Rule, Britannia!), and I am 4000 miles away from the ridiculous election spectacle that’s boring the UK to tears as Cameron and Miliband fight it out to be the party that gets to form some sort of coalition with what my mother would call ‘The wrong sort of people‘, having failed to win an outright majority.
As I’ve had a couple of ‘black’ days, I suppose, I’m going for black and white images today. Hope you like… this could be Dave helping to clear my lungs, for a start!!
Brit artistic gymnast Sam Oldham:
A wet swimmer takes a shower – superb lighting on this:
Despair, next? Surely not with those muscles…
Next, an unnecessarily complicated way of performing the ‘flag’:
Shall we just ‘hang out’?
More lighting effects, showing up an unexpectedly large ‘shoulder dimple’ and then the veins:
Son Leo has just approached (within germ-free safe shouting distance!) to ask if I will take him, Chris and Ryan to the swimming hole this afternoon. ‘No, I don’t feel like dipping my wheezing body into the Clinch River down at Cody’s, thank you….’ But I expect I will…
If I’m claiming to be feeling better… well, it’s one small start to getting back in shape, I suppose.
And then, I guess I should start to hit the weights again.
…especially if Dave works a little of his magic beforehand (and after!)…