Tuesday, 9 June 2015


Tonight, as part of my exercising in an endeavour not to die early, I walked home from work.

I'd done it yesterday as well, and if my willpower holds out I may just manage it tomorrow.

The walk home is a changeable distance. When I start out it seems easy, though relatively time-consuming. When I'm past the point of no return (the last bus-stop for forty minutes walk) it starts to get harder going. When I'm about twenty minutes from home it seems like I'll never reach my destination. Then I make it inside, crawl to the couch, and pretend that it was a breeze.

It was at the point where it seemed impossible to finish the journey (alive) that a terrible incident overtook me this evening. One that demanded my complete and undivided attention. Immediately.

My shoelace came undone.

There was no way that I could keep walking with it flapping about and just pleading to be stepped on. When I was younger I'd have bent over and tied that up with no problems.

Being a middle aged woman who's just started exercising again after a sabbatical and whose skeleton seems to belong to a woman twice her age there were a few considerations.

1) Did I think I could bend over to tie it up, or should I risk the knee bend?

2) Did I think I could maintain my balance whilst doing so, or should I risk tripping for another minute in order to make it to the bus stop where I could sit down?

3) Did I think that now I'd committed to bending over I'll be able to stand back up, or should I just drop to the pavement and crawl the rest of the way home?

I wish I still had bendy joints that did things the way they're meant to. If you catch me staring into space the next few days it's me looking at my departing youth.


  1. This is the single best argument for those otherwise-horrible Velcro straps.

  2. The only way to get these is through me, and I promise to get them to you. EIther on tour, or after. We'll figure it out!