I have failed miserably to capitalise on the post-Olympics endorphin rush. Why?
Events, dear boy, events.
Some here know that my Mum is unwell. Not to put too fine a point on it, she's dying. Slowly, horribly, fully conscious of her situation, trapped inside her failing body by one of mankind's cruellest conditions, MND. Unable to cope after 'hanging on in quiet desperation', last week her partner broke down and fled, wailing, into the night. We boys (there are three of us) rallied round, and the last week or so has been my turn to live-in and help out. We're in touch with (and supporting) her husband, too, and it's hoped he will return soon, with more help in place.
I'm grateful of this chance to spend time with my Mum. Anything I can do to ease her suffering, to make life just a shade brighter, feels incredibly important. That sid, driving up and down motorways to and from work - happily, we're rather busy. Not to be sniffed at in these troubled times, yet wholly inconvenient to my personal plight - is taking its toll.
Plod-wise I've been reduced to taking Mum's Cairn terrier, a yappy little fellow named Toto (yes, the same breed as Dorothy's in TWOZ) to the local rec. each morning. He can't be trusted off the lead on open land, so I release him in the well-fenced grounds at the end of Mum's road whilst I shuffle round and round an area not unadjacent to that of an athletics running track. Let me assure you that I use the phrase ‘Oi! Come ‘ere!’ rather than bellow ‘TOTO!!!’ in as manly a voice as it’s possible to muster, when the time comes to leave. Today I bagged a whopping 1.6 miles (there's only so much circulatory perambulation a man can take), but it's better than nothing, just about.
My stint is over now. I plan to return to the hills this weekend, when I'll find out if this relative rest has helped my whinging calf. A fortnight in Hong Kong beckons in ten days. Dreams of hooking up with the
Wanchai Hash for a blast up the Peak are, sadly, only that. My chances of keeping up with those jaunty jungle beasts are slim to none, and slim just left town.
Selah.
