Friday, 8 January 2010

The week that was...

The UK National Obsession is The Weather and now that we are receiving such extreme conditions over such an extended period of time, we are receiving commentary of orgiastic proportions. Inches of snow...degrees centigrade...amount of grit...composition of said grit...amount of long said salt is going to last...streets where cars have slid into a wall...councils are reducing the amount of grit/ salt they are much warmer we are than the South Pole...numbers of schools closed...swans trapped...gas use hits a record high...passengers stuck in airports throughout the country...numbers of homes without heat...hospitals asking for zimmer frames because they’re running out...young men car snowboarding (in case you need to ask stupid, this involves sticking a snowboard on the roof of a car and driving through the snow) ....

...and I find the whole feckin’ thing absolutely fascinating. I could watch and read about it for hours. Paint me white, stick a carrot in my gob and call me Saddo.


When he said, “and now, we’re going to get your heart rate up above 90% of its maximum.’ ...THAT'S when I should have fled the building. Well, I would have if I wasn’t leaning against the full-length mirror
(I knew it had a purpose) and wheezing like a geriatric asthmatic. For those of you of a smutty mindset, I should explain I was being given a new series of workout routines at the gym. And OHMYGOD I am gubbed.

My gym instructor plays rugby at a very high level and I was tempted to say, “I’m 47, gimme a fucking break.” But it would have just come out like a breathless whine.

This routine involves a “circuit”. Five minutes on a bike raising my heart rate to 70-something percent of its maximum. Five minutes on a stepper raising my heart rate to 90-something percent of its maxmimum. Five minutes on a bike “allowing” my heart rate to settle at 60-something percent of its maximum. And then you do it all again. Twice.

Forty five minutes of torture. And not in a good way.

The bastard.

He was more specific than the 70-something example that I am giving you, it’s just that I was so freakin’ knackered I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than getting through that particular 5 minutes without puking. I swear I saw stars at one point in my peripheral vision.

I know I’ve lost some fitness over the last few months with the whole ankle thing, but really. I think I’ve been kidding myself on for years.

Today was a good wake-up call. There is a six-pack here somewhere, if I keep this up I might just find it.


“Two teams of celebrities”...the man said and my jaw tightened...”in a highly competitive bird-watching competition”...and it was all I could do not to spear my TV with the Christmas tree. (I know, I know, I’ll put it away in the morning.) Who is the knob-end that is coming up with these ideas? This is me on my knees, people...can we please stop watching this shit?

Here in the UK we’re having a Celebrity TV fest at the moment. We’re not long finished with getting the dumb feckers out of the jungle and ballroom dancing, and now we’ve got them on Mastermind, Dancing on Ice, in Big Brother and feckin’ bird-watching.

If you cannae beat them...’s this for a pitch for a new TV programme? We join our celebrity obsession with our fetish for the weather and dump a load of the feckers on Altnaharra (the coldest place in Britain right now only a couple of degrees warmer than the South Pole) wearing mankinis, sipping from toilet bowls and counting the grains of salt in a grit bin.

Colour me white, stick a carrot in my gob and call me a programming genius.


  1. I gave up my search for the six-pack a long time ago and am satisfied that I still have a barrel.

  2. Bill, that's because your "barrel" is overflowing with charm and wit.

  3. Thanks for visiting my blog. I agree with you about the weather - we're all obsessed with it at the moment.

  4. Over from the Nicola Morgan party. Your blog looks like fun. I'm following ...

  5. hey, fairyhedgehog and Nora. Nice to see ya...and thanks for the follow, Nora

  6. Thank God. For a moment I thought you said 'commentary of orgasmic proportions'.

  7. My father's family is from Ireland, and they're all obsessed with the weather, which I assume is related to your country's obsession.

    We are too experiencing an unusual chill. Bangor Maine was 17 degree F the other day, and southern Florida was 16 degrees F. That's about as north and south as you can get in the United States, which never have the same weather (Until now).

    The downside is that one of my manuscripts has an unusual storm in Texas. Now it's not that unusual, so I'll have to change it.

  8. Hey Michael, also a visitor from Nicola Morgan's party; great blog you've got here! Consider yourself Google Reader'd.


  9. lol, Gillian. You know I did. And if it isn't a word, it should be.

    Theresa, nice to meet you.

    Valerie, thanks for popping by and whatever Google Reader'd means, I'm up for it.

  10. You are a programming genius! I would soooooo watch that.

  11. So the ankle must be better if you're close to getting six packs. Go, Michael, go Michael. Pretty cold in DC and Louisiana this week.

  12. Marley, unfortunately the six pack ain't going to appear any day soon. I hear you and Thea have been meeting up. Go on spill, what's the gossip?

  13. It was cool. We clubbed a little on the DC scene, met with the pres early in the day, had lunch with Michelle... pretty staid.