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Otherwise my novels, short stories, verse, family, music, memories, vulgar interests, detestations,
responses, apologies. I hold posts to 300 words* having found less is better than more.
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Sunday, 12 July 2015

Generation gap

 Me? I've been putting in my post-op eye drops. Writing a long short story about "the Forest". Watching the TdF on telly. Fetching The Guardian from the filling station. Watering the garden (Oh joy of joys!). Washing up. Sleeping intermittently. Dozing after lunch and dozing late afternoon. The usual pursuits of an aged, self-proclaimed intellectual.

While younger daughter (Occasional Speeder) has been...

3 comments:

Avus said...

Me? Much the same as you, RR. Except substitute the Telegraph (the "Torygraph" in your estimation, no doubt) and not being able to even self proclaim as an intellectual. Old age pursuits.

As to sponsored parachute jumps; a work colleague once did one for charity, landed badly and fractured her ankle and lower leg - the cost of the resulting medical care (on NHS) far exceeded the donations she collected for the jump! (My ex- nurse wife says that Casualty was always busiest on Saturdays - either it was sponsored parachutists or soccer/rugby players)

Ellena said...

I have never watched "Amazing Race" but heard that participants are a daring bunch.

Roderick Robinson said...

Avus: What a gloomy outlook; mayhap you read the Bellylaugh too closely.

Since I have no great talent for any sport, and since I seem to have a predilection for the risky ones, I have had to call for aid in various countries at one time and another.

Roller skating during a Men Only, Speed session led me to Bradford Royal Infirmary to have the bones in my wrist re-arranged.

A fifteen-foot fall while rock-climbing at the Cow and Calf, Ilkley, left me with severe bruising which I was able to treat myself.

An impromptu cycle race on public roads near my home in Bradford ended on a corner when my brake lever inconveniently hooked itself into the jacket pocket of my nearest competitor and a subsequent abrasion needed the attentions of my GP to check whether I'd contrived to expose my patella.

Catching the tip of my ski on an exposed tree root at Crans Montana, Switzerland, caused me to describe a huge semi-circle in the air (radius roughly 9 ft). Arriving eventually on terra firma I dislocated my shoulder and cracked my scapula. This was followed by 90 minutes manipulation (without anaesthetic), a large bill in Swiss francs, and several weeks physiotherapy in Kingston-upon-Thames.

Another fall while ski-ing at the same place brought about bruising (possibly tearing) of the intercostal muscles which proved amenable to a huge sticking plaster (1 ft x 1 ft) imbued with something like chilli paste and bought at the local pharmacie.

A lifeguard forestalled incipient problems with dangerous currents in the bay at Perros Guirec, Brittany where I was swimming with Joe Hyam's daughter. No charge.

Silly young/middle-aged/old fool I hear you gruntle, and how can I gainsay you? On the other hand, what subjects do you bring up when conversation flags at dinner parties?

Ellena: This turns out to be a Canadian TV programme. You are famed for the enigmatic nature of many of your blog comments, but this one beats the band.