Mama Conchita, She Is Weary...

Back on the bike, he says.
Yeah...well I did my ten miles last night, and this morning marked a stage that I've been waiting for, and which I'm surprised has taken this long to get to.

I appear to have swapped hips with a 60-year old double-shift Brazilian hooker.
Couldn't walk this morning - or rather, I could walk, but only in the kind of way that makes you wonder if John Wayne and Donald Duck ever had a love...erm...egg.
The bike has finally bitten me - as I say, I'm surprised it's taken this long, but there you go - two weeks and two days in, the damn thing has left me bow-legged and brittle, and discarded me like a broken toy. This is me - broken toy-boy.

Of course, on the other hand, as d is quick to point out, I spent the entirety of my teenage years hoping, begging, even, yes, praying to earn myself a walk like this. I was just hoping that achieving it might be more fun!

Perhaps it's just as well that today was another broken routine day in Teddington. So - no morning walk...although by the end of the day I did a bit of walking home - which is what happens when the taxi drivers of Teddington conspire to insist that one place is actually somewhere else entirely, and abandon you there. Walked - or rather, waddled - home from Stratford Station too. Not exacly on a par with the ten mile cycle, but still, you cram this stuff in wherever you can.

There were plenty of positive elements about the day though, so, unusually for me, I don't particularly want to bitchslap people till they bleed today. Maybe I'm coming down with something.

I had a good experience today though - another pal of mine who I've been pathetic at keeping up with popped up out of nowhere to tell me she's following the blog. Tig is one of the people responsible for getting d and I together in the first place, and her son is one of a select handful of small people who I've actually met and yet oddly, don't want to stuff up a drainpipe. So it was great to hear from her. She told a tale of another friend of hers, to whom I would take off all but my silliest of hats. He's apparently gone from 28 stone to 16 over a year and a bit. That's a loss of 168 pounds, which is either gloriously inspiring or incredibly slap-worthy.

It's a good day, and with the Wayne/Duck waddle, I'd probably miss if I tried, so I'm gonna belay the slap and say it's inspiring...Yeah, I know, I'm quixotic, sue me.

So on to tomorrow. Hopefully, with my own hips...