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Tuesday 5 April 2022

Leave brontë to Wuthering Heights

Sliced Tiged Roll is our present preference

“The way to Hell is paved with good intentions.” is a proverb by Britain’s most popular poet. No, not WS. Good old Anon. I see Anon resembling William Blake’s character measuring the Earth with a pair of dividers, parodying our most famous physicist, Sir Isaac Newton, whom Blake hated.

The proverb has a myriad applications but, most often these days, it is synonymous with do-gooders unintentionally turning into do-badders. Yesterday it was my turn.

Instead of my walking to pick up The Guardian at the filling station I have it delivered. No finger-wagging, please. I know all about necessary exercise but – aged 86 – I find easefulness more persuasive. Delivery was originally organised by the two carers I call my daughters when I was fresh out of hospital. Its appeal has endured, the cost doubled.

Yesterday morning it wasn’t sticking out of my letter-box. As the newsagent has often said, a delivery lad whose mother indulges him had preferred his warm bed. Never mind.  I was feeling brontë, a family invention meaning in good health.

I walked the mile to the newsagent, got the paper, wondered whether we had any bread at home (Sliced Tiger Loaf being our current preference.) But I hadn’t brought any cash. Never mind, again. I felt confident enough to hurry home and ride back to the supermarket on my long-neglected pedal bike.

Hurried too hard. Tripped on a kerbstone. Hands abraded on loose gravel but, more important, a sense of strain down my right side. The side opened up on the advice of the colonoscopist who said, somewhat timidly last December, he’d found “something that shouldn’t be there”.

I avoid analgesics if I can but took two Ibuprofens separately last night. Spent a painful night, took two together this AM.

Moral: distrust feeling brontë.


10 comments:

  1. Sorry about the RR. Were you on the long neglected bike or walking when you went over? However, good for you for trying.

    Putting my evangelistic crash helmet on I would suggest (again) getting an ebike for regular rides. My old cycling mate (83, same as me) was falling over when putting foot to ground when stopping (sciatica and trapped spinal nerve) so bought himself an e-trike with a difference

    see:
    https://www.alpineelectricbikes.co.uk/products/alpine-electric-trike

    He loves and it has meant he can continue cycling for a while longer.

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    1. Avus: I was walking, hurriedly. Intent on finding out whether I could manage a conventional bike. Other than the Skoda (for which much gratitude) my conventional mode of locomotion is by foot. It promotes more fluid bowel movement and that is worth all the tea in China.

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  2. Hope you are feeling better. I also hope you let the delivery boy know what happened as a result of his negligence. It is important for young people to realize how their actions impact others. A fall like that ... well, I don't have to tell you how dangerous it could be. Please consider reading the Guardian online when it isn't delivered. Yes, I know it isn't the same, or as enjoyable as rustling newsprint.

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    1. Colette: I can't criticise the delivery boy; at his age I preferred a warm bed. Dangerous, yes. I may have busted a rib which - let's look on the bright side - is better than re-busting a bowel. The online Guardian just won't do. Like drinking red burgundy (a mercilessly expensive French wine) through a straw. Or out of a tin cup.

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  3. I hope you are feeling okay there. That sounded like quite a fall. It is good to get some exercise while in recovery mode, but moderation is important. I hope your newspaper was delivered today and all is going well there. Take care.

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    1. NewRobin13: The following day The Guardian arrived through the letterbox; all apologetic for the fuss its absence had caused.

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  4. Not what should happen. All this youthful exuberance! At least the bicycle was spared major calamity.
    Hope you are better and maybe adjust to Guardian online?? Not that I want to begrudge a delivery boy their income but, you know, needs must etc.

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  5. Sabine: That's what my Grannie used to say: Needs must when the Devil drives. So compressed that it took time for me - about eight at the time - to decode it. Perhaps the effort edged me into journalism. Black clouds aren't necessarily all black, etc.

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  6. "Needs must" huh? Too compressed for me. This, my third look-up, was finally helpful:
    "The form you quote is the usual modern one, but it isn’t so easy to understand, as it is abbreviated and includes needs must, which is a semi-archaic fixed phrase — now effectively an idiom — meaning “necessity compels”. The Shakespearean wording (“My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives”, AWTEW) makes the meaning clearer: if the devil drives you, you have no choice but to go, or in other words, sometimes events compel you to do something you would much rather not."
    As for newspapers online - I tried to work an online crossword puzzle or three last weekend and the mechanics of them were beyond me. I could not find the clues sections. Kerbs huh? Curbs here. Watch your step - glad you're ok.

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    Replies
    1. MikeM: Wow! I set a whole bundle of research in action. Score e for effort. Reading The Guardian online is like watching the Super Bowl through a keyhole. It's not sentimentality I'm singing, it's space.

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