Tag Archives: walk

BOO!


Our nineteen year old cat seems to have gone a  bit senile. we know she’s a bit blind and a bit deaf and more than a bit unsteady on her pins but now she  thinks she’s a dog. Boofuls’ dog to be exact.

I don’t know if she’s been watching Mrs Woofy follow me round the house and likes the idea or if she really thinks she’s a dog but Boofuls can’t move without her trotting at his heels these days.

She even sits in front of him while he’s eating hoping for a little titbit, just like Mrs Woofy does when she’s here. You know how they do, trying to look nonchalant but secretly peeping sideways out of one eye looking for any sign of goodies coming their way.

Look, she’s even licking her lips.

Tasty Treat

Nonchalant my ars……er……eye.

Munki and me spent a delightful afternoon together yesterday with no sign of the tantrums or power games that have been going on for the last few weeks (hers, not mine).

We sang, finger painted, shared lunch and generally enjoyed being in each others company.

Finger paintingShe was a busy girl, as you can see.

Finger painting 2At one point she left her painting to ‘wash her hands’ that quaint euphemism for going for a wee.  On her way to the bathroom (My God! That makes the place sound like a veritable mansion.) she spotted the cat, curled up in a corner and fast asleep.

She sneaked up to the cat and bent down next to her. That’s notable on it’s own as that’s something she’s have never got away with a few years ago. This cat has a built in childometer and  can usually sense the  imminent  presence of a child at a distance of half a mile or more and make an appropriately quick exit,  not to be seen again till the coast is clear. Friendly this cat is not.

Munki bent down next to  the still slumbering cat and  gently bent her head down to the level of cat’s head. I thought she was going to give her a gentle cuddle so I let her continue.

Oh no, Munki had other ideas.  She  shouted BOO! at the top of her voice and believe me, this kid’s LOUD.

The poor cat shot straight  into the air. I almost had to detach her from the ceiling.

I tried my best to keep from laughing and wipe the smile off my face while I explained to Munki that that wasn’t funny and she really shouldn’t do that to the cat but it was hard.

I think the cat must have used up at least three more of her lives during that episode. No wonder she doesn’t like kids. Poor thing.

Gembolina and me went for a walk in the woods today with Mrs Woofy. As normal I was distracted along the way by the lovely sights that cried out to be photographed.

Bridge and ButtercupFlower Since we had that bad storm last year which blew down dozens of trees the council have obviously commissioned someone to carve figures of woodland animals into the stumps. It’s a really nice idea and I enjoy seeing them as we walk but this one just makes me laugh. It look just like a badger with a bad back. I can just imagine it saying, “Ee, my lumbago’s giving me jip today.”

Ee. Me back's killin' me

Then just round the corner we came across this very devilish uprooted tree.

Scared the bejaysus out of me, it did.

Scary tree roots

That badger’s reminded of of old Fred, Lancashire born and bred.

His wife died a few years back and he decided he wanted a nice headstone for her.

His instructions to the stonemason were very clear.

“I want ‘She were thine’  written o’ th ‘eadstone.”

After a couple of weeks the headstone was ready and Fred went for a look. He was most disconcerted to see that the headstone read. ‘She were thin’

“She were thin? Thin? Yer daft bugger. You’ve missed off an ‘E’.”

“Terribly sorry Sir, we’ll put it right for you.”

Fred went back the day after to see the corrected headstone.

This time it read:

‘Ee, she were thin.’

Hahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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Did my eyes deceive me?


Surfing the channerl guide on tv late last night after a teeny gin and tonic, much needed after late night dog training, I can tell you.

While I was surfing  I saw yet another programme about the talentless and attention seeking  but oh so media savvy, Katie Price.

Yawn, move on, I thought. Then just as I flicked onto the next page I thought I read: ‘Katie, bustier than ever.’  Bustier than ever? Classy.

Now I know that those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones but at least my chesticles are God given.  “Tsk, anther boob job, is the woman totally brainless?  Then through my gin generated fog I thought, ‘ Bustier than ever? That can’t be right, I must have misread.

I had.

‘Katie; busier than ever.’  Durrr. More gin, please.

******

Up with the larks this morning.

Actually, up with the owls as well thanks to Boofuls  practising the new sport of extreme snoring. Having gently and in a ladylike way suggested to him  that he might like to continue snoring in the spare room he left me to slumber in peace. Or so I thought.

Of course, Boofuls being Boofuls doesn’t just go and climb into the spare room bed. Oh no no no. That’s far too simple.  First he has to well and truly wake himself up, have at least two cups of tea, smoke a few cigarettes, go on the computer for a while and then the bugger climbs back in to bed with me to  only disturb my sleep all over again.

The man has absolutely no survival instinct!

Mrs Woofy stays with us on Thursday night as training finishes so late. We’ll be going into the advanced class soon and that’s even later. Not sure how I’ll cope with that one but anyway.

Mrs Woofy was bounding around desperate to get out and it’s another gorgeous day so by 7.30 we were  making our way to the nearest woods for a brisk walk. What a brilliant way to start the day. The sun shone, the birds tweetled, we were far enough away from any road that there was no traffic noise.  All in all it was a nice hours commune with nature.  Do you want to see my photos?

Close your eyes if you don’t because here they are. Not all from this morning they have been taken over the last few days.

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Ask me about the tree with the flowers. It’s all very odd.

 

 

 

Evil Eye


As I’m sitting and staring at my computer screen wondering what delightful things I should write about today, I can feel a prickling on the back of my neck.  I sneaked a nervous peak over my shoulder a moment ago.  I say a nervous peak because I’m all alone in the house and yet the feeling of being watched is overwhelming.

Yup, I’m being watched alright. Our fluffy cat is sitting on the back of the armchair in the living room giving me the evil eye because the back of the chair is where he goes when he wants to be brushed and I’m ignoring him.

His beady, bright blue, gimlet eyes are practically boring a hole in me.  Tail swishing angrily, I can see he’s not a happy cat. Oh well, he’ll get over it or I’ll give in and go and brush him which is probably the most likely scenario.

Now. I need your help. For mine and Boofuls’   Big Adventure to see the northern lights we have narrowed down our location to one of two places: Tromso in Norway or Fairbanks in Alaska. Which do you think we should go for? Answers in the comments section please.

Attempting to work out which currency  will give us the best exchange rate left my poor blonde head all confuzzled the other evening.  Norway, we already know is ludicrously expensive but will it work out in the end to be cheaper than travelling halfway cross the world to Alaska or will Alaska be better value even taking into account the distance we have to travel?  I’m not  used to having to take all these things into consideration. I just want to take photos.

Culturally, Boofuls might be better in Alaska. A week or so in Norway could very well see him starving to death, he needs food he can readily identify. When we went to Hong Kong a few years ago he lived on ham sandwiches from very westernised hotel we were staying in.  He came back from that particular jaunt as a shadow of his former self. Not much chance of that happening to me, I’ll have a go at just about anything. Just tell me again why I’m not a size 10?

Me, Mrs Woofy and Gembolina were on the moors before 9 o’clock this morning. A lovely brisk walk in -2 temperatures blew the cobwebs away and set us up for the day. Lovely!

Ok, I can’t stand it any longer, I’m off to groom the cat.

Human 0  Cat 1

Step to it! Quick march!


Today me and Mrs Woofy decided to go on a different walk. Not that there is anything wrong with the old walks but I did have a bit of a hidden agenda that I didn’t share with the dog.

The plan was to go and do a sneaky recce of a house I’ve seen that I really like the look of. It’s tucked away in some woods and surrounded by fields – but also within 300 yards of a bus route, not that I ever catch a bus, but you never know when you might want to. ‘Close to all local amenities’, I think they call it.

Mrs Woofy was a bit surprised when she jumped into the back of my car as is her normal habit while I put my walking boots on, only to have to jump straight back out again without going anywhere. I could see the confusion on her face as we set off.

On our way there I noticed a couple of young men looking totally out of place as they weren’t wearing track suits or drinking cans of Stella. ‘Must be Mormons or totally lost.’ I thought to myself as we crossed the road.  Sure enough.  “Hello, can we speak with you about the word of God?”

Well, I’m not the best person to talk to about Mormonism (mormonism – is that a word?) due to my sister being totally misled by them a few years ago and ending up very hurt, upset and without any faith in God or human nature. While I appreciate that not all Mormons operate by misleading people into joining them it has no doubt tainted my view of them.

“You’ll have to walk while you talk then or the dog will go nuts.” Thinking they’d take the easier option of  talking to the old woman close by.

“No problem.”

Refer to paragraph 3: ” I put my walking boots on.”  When I have my walking boots on I don’t tend to hang about. I set off at my usual rapid pace with one chap almost jogging at my side and the other following breathlessly behind as they attempted to spread the word.  It does lose a certain amount of  gravitas when it’s delivered in a breathless gasp and it did make me smile a bit. Aren’t I mean? I could have slowed down but no one ever said the life of a missionary was easy and I did at least give them the time of day which is a lot more polite than anything my sister would have given them.

In truth, I enjoyed our conversation, it was thought provoking and challenging  and  I was almost sad when we reached the turnoff where no man in a smart suit and polished shoes wants to tread. Mrs Woofy, however was just glad to be off her lead at looked at me as if to say,’ about bloody time,’ before dashing off for a  swim in the stream.

The Mormons went on their way in search of a new conversation. I went for a wet, muddy and slippery walk, laughing at the dog’s antics as she cavorted around in the water.

The house, as much as I could see through the trees, looks luuuverley, well worth a closer look, I reckon.

On our way back from our walk we passed a corner shop. Glancing up, as you do, not really paying any attention, my interest was captured by a woman as she left the store. She was about 40 years old, painfully thin and had obviously fallen out of the ugly tree and hit every  branch on the way down.  Long thin, greasy hair blew round her face which had been  ravaged by the smoke of 50,00 cigarettes. The thin fabric of her pink pyjamas billowed in the cold breeze…….the thin fabric of  WHAT?  Did my eyes deceive me?

Taking a closer look, not easy as she really wasn’t a pretty sight, I confirmed what I initially thought. Yup, those are definitely pink pyjamas and to complete the ensemble, a pair of trainers.  Tsk. Honestly. If you’re going to wear pink pyjamas in the street, at least accessorise them properly. She strolled up the street, lighting her 50,001st cigarette with not a care in the world.

You’ve got to be pretty damn desperate for a ciggie if you’re prepared to walk the streets in your pj’s, or maybe it’s a fashion statement, or maybe she just doesn’t give a monkey’s. Maybe there’s a lot to be learned from that.

You don’t half see life when you walk the dog through the streets rather than on the moors. I think I’ll be going back to my original route immediately. I can’t cope with all the excitement.

Bits and pieces


There is a blog I follow called ‘Fridge Soup” It’s for all those little bits and pieces that can’t really make up a whole post on their own so you throw it into the soup and see what happens.

Today’s post is a bit like that: random offerings, throw ’em at the wall and see what sticks.

Yesterday in the doctor’s waiting room, me and Baby Bunting were waiting for Lashes to come out from her consultation (nothing serious). As normal I was amusing the baby by showing her and talking about the photos I have on my phone.  She pointed at this one from St Annes with the clingons last year and said:

 

on the beach

“Build sandcarsells.”

“What? Say that again.”  So she did, in the nicest RP accent you’ve ever heard. “Build sandcarsells.”  In between wiping away the tears of laughter at this born and bred lancastrian saying ‘sandcastle’  with an RP accent I had to wonder;  where the hell did she learn………?

Boofuls!

She’s obviously discussed the photo with him and his southeren accent at some point and his pronunciation has stuck. I like it. Hhhmmm, do you think she’s too young for elocution lessons?

*******

Did I mention that while we were on holiday Marco Pierre White was on the ship? Big N’s hero.  He almost swooned with excitement (Big N, not Marco ).

Of course he had to buy the book and get it signed. Casually dropping into the brief conversation that he was also a professional chef earned him much kudos from MPW who signed the book “From one chef to another.”  I’ve never seen Big N get star struck before,  On the photo he is almost cuddling MPW, not cool, Big N, not cool.

**********

Walking in the pouring rain with Mrs Woofy today we took the high road round the back of our house and onto the moors up there. I’ve been avoiding that route becasue one of the local farmers has put livestock on it recently and we all know how partial mrs Woofy is to poo.  Since I’m not partial to throwing up, I usually take her on a different route these days, however, the combination of heavy rain, tiredness and a lot of work to catch up on made the decision for me.

The dog came across a puddle:

dog in a puddle

and decided to teararse through it at breakneck speed about a dozen times, every time ending by standing in front of me and shaking, all the while with a huge smile on her face and looking for a scooby snack for being a clever dog. It made me laugh though so she got the snacks.

Further on in the walk we came across this tree:

tree

It’s got a bucket hanging from it. You may remember this bucket tree from last year. Anyway, for no apparent reason I started to sing Sandie Shaw’s “Puppet on a String.’ Where’s that come from? I couldn’t get the sodding song out of my head all the way home. Eventually I realised why I was singing it

‘IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII   wonder if one day that you’ll say that you care’

If you say I love you madly, I’ll gladly be there’

Like a bucket on a treeeeeee.’

It fits!!!!!!

Even though it was a windy, cold, wet and drab day, the moors were full of colour. Take a lookie at this:

moors

Ok, I’ve enhanced the red a bit but to be honest, not much. The red grass was like a huge bloodstain on the yellow moorland grass. beautiful.

******

Talk about giving clues! Guess where Boofuls keeps his cards/money/fags/phone. Pickpockets R Us won’t struggle much with this one:

back pocket

******

Shopping for accessories for my newly decorated bedroom (I’m saving that post) I was in a shop with a cafe. ‘Time for lunch,’ I thought.  Wished I headn’t bothered, the jacket potato was still hard in the middle and just look at the salad.

soggy cucumber

Yeuch!! Did it go back? Oh yes. Faster than you can say,’ This is crap.’

The  over familiar teenage waitress with the booming voice kept saying, “I’m sorry looooove. That’s how the cucumber comes.”

It wasn’t till later I realised why she was over loud, a bit nervy and over friendly and helpful. That’s not like the staff in that shop at all. She must have seen me take the photo of it and thought I was a secret shopper or from ‘Watchdog’ or something.

Ok, that’s the best I can offer for today’s soup. Don’t worry though, it’s Friday tomorrow, we can have Friday pie!

 

 

It’s been an ‘owl’ of a week


Leaning out of the back door the other evening enjoying the warmth and evening sunlight, I noticed a bird, bold as brass, sitting and gawping at me like it was wondering what on earth I was and what I was doing.  I gawped back at it for a while and there we stood gawping at each other for what seemed an age before I decided to get the binoculars for a closer look.

Kestrel or owl?  Let’s find out.  It turned out to be a Little Owl. Blimey, whoever named this bird was severely lacking in the imagination department. I can just imagine it was some balding middle aged geeky ornithologist named Roland in brown corduroy trousers with a brylceemed comb over. I can’t argue with him about it being technically correct though because it was certainly an owl and it was little.  Blimey, we don’t see many of those around here.

It was just sitting there on a fence post watching the world go by. Eventually we lost interest in each other and went about our business.

little owl

http://www.bto.org/nnbw/nesting_birds/little_owl.htm




Here’s a tale from Poo Corner:


Friends on Facebook will know that where there’s muck there’s brass. Not that I’ve been moaning about it or anything but it’s just cost us £300 to get our septic tank emptied. £300!!!

The purveyors of poo turned up at 8.30 this morning with not one but TWO tankers with which to export the excrement.   That’s a lot of poo. Much to my surprise I’ve discovered today that our poo doesn’t in fact smell of roses as I thought. No, there are many words I can use to describe the smell drifting round the garden but roses would most definitely not be it. Even Mrs Woofy, who stayed at our house last night and who,  as we all know is a veritable connoisseur of crap, wrinkled her nose is disgust and made a dash for the car so we could get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

I can only assume that the shit shifters who carry out the dirty deed become immune to the small, as I walked down to the bottom of the garden to tell them I was leaving, they were all stood around the open septic tank chatting, drinking cups of tea and eating butties. My stomach heaved at the very thought of it.

Telling one of the neighbours that we were getting the tank emptied he then informed us that his friend would have done  it for £150. “Really could have done to have known that BEFORE now.”


This afternoon me and Mrs Woofy went for a nice long, humid walk in the woods. We haven’t been there for weeks and I’ve missed it. Now that the leaves are starting to turn it’s looking beautiful.  Strolling along I gradually noticed that in between all the tweetling of the little birds and the coo cooing of various pigeons I could hear an owl too-it too-wooing. Huh? I though owls were nocturnal. What’s going on, has Darwen suddenly become a Mecca for owls?  Time and again it too-it too-wood it’s little head off. It made the walk so much more interesting. It’s alright strolling around with headphones on and the ipod blaring but what a lot you miss. It made my day, that (sad but true).


At this point I have to make a SERIOUS announcement;


YAY!!!! The dog has FINALLY got the idea!!!!!!

After a tragic agility class on Monday where she forgot she was a labrador and thought she was a greyhound, teararsing over all the jumps, through the tunnel and leaping off the top of the A frame,  she ran round the outside of the course doing six laps at breakneck speed before stopping for an energy snack of horse poo. I of course stood watching helplessly in the middle of the arena calling out her name and feeling very stupid while the other dog owners doubled up with laughter.

At, what is laughingly called, obedience training last night she and a little beagle called Molly decided to sing a duet while the trainer was trying to speak. He asked for a volunteer to demonstrate and exercise, “a dog who’s quite good at recall and distance control.” The silence was deafening. Eventually I suggested to him that he try the next class.

It’s been a bit disheartening for the last week or two, the dog doesn’t seem to be getting the idea at all. I’ve even been considering leaving the class as it’s a bit like beating my head against a brick wall.

As if by magic the dog seems to have picked up on my mood and been decided to be good as gold. I walked a full half mile with her on the lead at the beginning and at the end of our walk and she didn’t pull ONCE!!  BREAKTHROUGH!!!!!

I walked back to the car with the biggest smile on my face. Local residents must have thought I was deranged. When I got home I saw this poem. It’s a bit twee and I’ve no idea who wrote it but it fitted my mood at the time and I like the sentiment:


THE VALUE OF A SMILE

Smiling is infectious,

You catch it like the flu,
When someone smiled at me today,
I started smiling too!

I walked around a corner,
And someone saw my grin,
When he smiled too I realised,
I’d passed it onto him.

I thought about this smile of mine,
And realised what it’s worth,
A single smile began by me,
Could travel round the earth.

So if you feel a smile begin,
Don’t leave it undetected,
Let’s start an epidemic now,
And get the world infected 🙂

smile

From: http://touchedbymax.weebly.com/-celebrate-life-everyday.html

Strolling – and a few random photos


Yesrday morning I had to go and see one of my brides who it turns out is incapable of looking at photos of herself without being hyper critical. AS a size 6/8 she hardly qualifies as fat but every time she saw a photo of her bare arm (not just her arm – that would be weird) she hollers, “ooohh look how fat my arms are.”   If her head wasn’t at exactly the correct angle then it was ” Can you photoshop my nose, it’s just awful.”  I think she may have some body issues that need addressing.

On top of all that she’s obviously a fussy mare who likes everything just so. Her new MIL had the audacity to change her shoes at the wedding reception and then pose for a photo  in the wrong shoes!!!! Quelle horreur!!!  I’ve been asked if I could photoshop the correct shoes back in.  I may have tactfully suggested at this point that she get herself a life.

After spending an hour and a half with the bride and suggesting that the album won’t be properly balanced if there are only photos of her groom in it (she loves all his photos)  I left with a notebook full of instructions on how to create her album. The words:’grandmother’ and ‘eggs’  sprang to mind but I kept my cool and let her rant on.  Tsk I don;t know about never working with animals or children, it’s ingenues that are difficult!!

A 40 minute drive back up the motorway with Paulo Nutini blasting from the speakers restored my spirits tremendously so I arrived to take poochie and the clingons for a walk in a cheery mood despite the rain. Gembolina decided to come along as well so it was a nice afternoons amble through the woods and over the golf course. Even the rain stayed away.  Here are a few random photos for you from yesterday.  A couple of  them might need a bit of explanation.

Where we work is a site with industrial units. The chap in one of the units decided to buy himself a boat and keep it on the car park while he restored it. It has since been the source of much merriment. Would you want to set sail in it?

Boat skeleton
Yo ho ho and a bottle o' rum

He had no idea it was going to be such a big job. What was going to be a refurbishment job has turned out to be a complete rebuild. He could have bought a new boat cheaper.  In the meantime though, it gives passers by something to gawp at.

So. Amble, amble, amble, up hill and down dale, across farmland and through the woods, we had a lovely walk yesterday. Poor Dangerous  D was exhausted when we’d finished, she isn’t used to walking that kind of distance. Why do we call her Dangerous D?  Because she is closely related Major Claim and General Accident, a more accident prone child I have yet to meet.  I really hope she grows out of it

Thistly thing

They say round here that if you can see Darwen Tower it’s going to rain. If you can’t see it it is raining.  Well, here’s a photo of Darwen Tower from Blacksnape.

I was pi55ed wet through, so was the dog, what a great walk, it really blew the cobwebs away.

Darwen
Some of my girls

DD, Gembolina and L climbing a a random wall we found in the middle of nowhere.

Lomo app hydrangea

I used the lomo app again!!  I think I’m in sever danger of overusing it,  Hydrangeas are gorgeous but I thought it looked even more gorgeous with the lomo treatment.

Foal

This is one of the little foals in the field next to the house. They are so gorgeous. I don’t think this one realised this isn’t how horses generally sit.

Darwen golf course

Over the rainbow


The Wednesday walk was brilliant yesterday. A good, two hour yomp around Pleasington. This week there were no dogs or beginners to slow us down so it was full speed ahead. The half a mile of ankle deep cow muck/mud that we had to wade through wasn’t fantastic though. More than one person lost a shoe in it or had it pour in over the top of their boots. Luckily, I wasn’t one of them.  The walk leader’s ears must have been burning as there were plenty of dark mutterings aimed in his general direction for leading us through it.

It was a gorgeous, golden and warm,  albeit humid evening. A bit of a breeze would have been nice but you can’t have everything. As we walked we could see there was a thunderstorm brewing in the distance. We watched  the sky turn to that wonderful slate grey and yellowy colour  that you only see during a thunderstorm and it contrasted beautifully with the sunlight and the shadows dancing on the field around us.  If we hadn’t been walking so fast I’d have stopped to get photos of it.

We could hear the thunder rumbling away. It was God’s stomach rumbling because he’s waiting for his dinner is what my Mum used to say.  Well, I don’t know about that – what I did know was that there was a grave danger of getting the second good dousing of the day.

A light rain started to fall as we were about half a mile away from the end of the walk.   As we passed the railway station I spotted this gorgeous rainbow. I couldn’t see that it was a double rainbow until I downloaded the photos.

Rainbow over Pleasington
Double rainbow

Did I mention I’d hot a lomo app for my iphone. I did?  Oh well, this is what it did to the rainbow.  Incidentally, all of these are pretty much straight out of the camera, not bad for a phone.

Lomo app rainbow

After stopping for a couple of minutes to take a few photos of the rainbow and railway we headed back to our cars to make our way home.

Within seconds the heavens opened and torrents of water descended from the skies.  The drive home was interesting to say the least. As I arrived home B and N were both waiting for me at the front door with big grins on their faces expecting to see a drowned rat get out the car.  I think they were a bit disappointed when I told them I’d just missed the downpour.

Happy Turdday!!


Me and Poochie have been our for  a longish walk on the moors this afternoon. It struck me halfway through our walk how stupid it is  that I’m so careful to take  a poo bag with me and make sure that the dog doesn’t sully  the countryside when we’re picking our way through a veritable carpet of assorted animal poo. It was almost impossible to se the grass for the poo.

There was sheep poo, horse poo, rabbit poo, cow poo and unidentifiable poo, not that I make it a mission to identify different types of poo, you understand, it’s just that some are so  instantly identifiable.   Every species of fauna within a 50 mile radius must have had a meeting and passed (haha  passed!!) an order designating  this part of the moors a  lavatory.  So,  how come that any type of poo is acceptable except dog poo?

Dog poo, disgusting as it is,  is no more disgusting than any other kind of poo. However  any dog poo must be bagged up and carried away in order not to contaminate an area it’s impossible to walk through without getting sh**ted up to the kneecaps  courtesy of all the livestock in the area.  Am I  missing something?

Yes, yes, yes, I know, as Boofuls so kindly pointed,  out there is the issue of canine toxocara. I KNOW!!!   I just chose to ignore it for the purposes of  this post. No need to write in and tell me!!!!

******

I’ve been trying out my new Nike trainer thingy that attaches to the laces of your trainers, or in my case, boots, and feeds information back to the phone about sitance travelled, speed, calories consumed. Brilliant. Or so you’d think.  Yesterday it decided I’d walked .44 of a kilometre in 1 hour and 9 minutes. I probably could have done that on my knees. By my reckoning I’d done about 4 miles.

Today, having set it to miles, it said I’d done .22 of a mile in 55 minutes.   Hhhmm, I know it’s hard to estimate distances but I could have sworn I’d done more than that, even while wading through poo.   It keeps wanting to calibrate itself to those measurements but of course I don’t want to use that as a yardstick. I thought it would be a case of set it up and it would just work, why is nothing ever straightforward? Sigh.

It gives an option of having music on to ‘work out’ to, I didn’t realise how much I enjoy the quiet of the country side until I had music assailing my lugholes every step of the way.  God, how times have changed. At one time I’d have loved being able to go everywhere with non stop music at my fingertips. A sign of maturity – or just of becoming an old fart? You decide.