I used to like exercise.

As Royal Marine and he-man wannabee I loved working out. Indeed, every other day for over forty years, I ran. Not the normal way but on my toes, just to show how extra specially tough I was.

    I used to teach martial arts. I loved a good punch up, and if the limit was a set number for a particular exercise I always doubled it to show just how exceedingly heroic I was.

    Can't do the running thing anymore. I trashed whatever ligament or tendon, or whatever in fact prevents my leg from collapsing when I stand. Don't want to do the punching and being kicked in the head anymore because it hurts, and when you get to my age healing takes an awful lot longer.

    Yesterday I was due to go and pick up my new (when I say new, I mean new to me, it's about twenty years old) motorbike. I had to walk the three miles because the tube takes about an hour. Unfortunately my insurance company closes early on a Saturday. I didn't know this because I'd decided to call them once I got there. Only to realise once I'd stumbled through the front door, that I couldn't ride it back because I was't insured. 

    Six miles. It nearly killed me.

    Maybe all those punches and kicks to the head has so addled my brain that remembering to phone the insurance company, before actually leaving the house might have been a good idea.



As always, any images not painted by me, like the one above, were all supplied by those kindly people at openclipart.org/