Ok, I confess: day three of my Week of Determined Extra Movement was a bit of a cop-out. I arrived with gym bag in hand, planning to hit the cycle machine with moderate determination, but after spending the morning in a Straight-Jacket of Ache, and struggling through a 500-page revised issue about satellites with a sinus headache on the side, even the prospect of changing my clothes was too much to contemplate. So I went for a twenty minute walk down one of the random secret woodland paths threaded through the huge industrial park I work in. It’s very strange – you pass office block, car park, office block, shiny office block, and then suddenly there’s a small pond, a couple of ducks and a mulchy path masquerading as real countryside. It’s like the designers of Milton Park wanted workers to have enough access to Nature to be able to feasibly stand in dog mess in their lunch hour. Which I did, so yay designers. And I’m sure the stress of trying to subtly clean my boots in front of the lunchtime picnickers raised my heart-rate a treat, so I got more exercise than I bargained for.
Anyway, my achey left arm still can’t shift from fourth to fifth gear very well (I could’ve just driven slow enough not to need upper gears, but instead drove fast enough to avoid downshifting), but after a very early night I feel much better. So I’m planning an after-work gym session, as my lunchtime is already booked. Chapter 17 of Harry Potter is pretty tense, so I reckon I could get away with a longer running session. We’ll see how I feel after another day of publishing magic.
PS – random sighting of the week: we went food shopping a couple of nights ago, and were surprised to find a home-made Kings of Leon CD lurking on the home-made baking shelf behind some chopped almonds. I went to pick it up, and saw that there were words carved into the surface with what looked like a school compass: MILK. BREAD. DRINK. YOG. And then I realised it was a shopping list that had been discarded. Who on earth, I wondered, has more unwanted CDs than paper in their house? The answer came with all the inevitability of a tax demand (to quote my favourite Terry Pratchett book): a student, of course. One with a poor opinion of the Kings of Leon, apparently, although I think that album’s rather good.