How now Brown Cow...
Women drivers!! Ah, the turmoil we face. There are few things in life I admit defeat in, sadly, driving is one of them. I have a licence, but quite wisely choose not to use it, simply because I am a danger to anything and everything!! One day, I will face my fear and join the fleet of women who, like Fi's Mum convienently line up large plastic plant pots on the driveway and back up into them on a regular basis, each day pretending that 'bumping' into them is a mere accident?! Boys, beware, don't look upon this as an act of stupidity, respect our feminine intelect, look at it more as a pre meditated act of survival and preservation. Preservation of the buildings whos foundations could be rocked daily and preservation of the precious bumpers on the family mobile!! These plant pots are not just an added crumple zone, they are a saviour. So fellas, when you're sat on your hind chilling out, doing nothing, and you hear the crunch, take heed, put the kettle on and thank the lord for £3.99 plastic plant pot...this crunch chaps is a sign....Your wife is home!!
Heather not only taught me the plant pot trick, but she gave me the most amusing an insight into the goings on, on a week night in a small village hall! Yes, I got roped into an hours worth of Scottish Country dancing I rocked up in my flipflops, expecting a wee celidh band and some sexy men in kilts. What I was welcomed with was the intire population of the Ruyton XI Town, womens over 40's Wednesday dance class, performed not to a band but a carefully selected set of Scottish tapes and crackly cassette player!! What a riot!
One would presume that after living in Scotland for 5 years and being on average 20 years younger than anyone in the building, I would be a pretty proficient Scottish dancer. Codswallop to that! I was danced around all night. I didn't have a clue what I was meant to be doing! The last time I unleashed in a celidh I got my toes broken, so really, learning a reel of three and being able to walk at the end of the night was a mission complete! After the dancing we ventured into the local, I was handed a microwave heated glass of red n plonked myself infront of the fire with Fi, Jill, the Griffiths parents and the local knome!! Doesn't get much more ramdon than that!!
Thank the lord for bikes!! The next day Fi, Jilly-bean and I went for a blast on the local hill behind the village. Fi and I ripped it up, while Jill took photos. We rode until our tummies growled, then headed back for a scrummy cheese and tom toastie.
Today, we frequented the go kart track and skidded sideways, mates rates (for longer that we probably should have) laughing our heads off, desperatly trying to avoid crashing into eachother!
The plans for the team are coming on a treat. Next season is going to rock!
Over n out for now...some of us have to get out beauty sleep...
Jme.
The Tipping point:
Front wheel on the start line,
Toes on the shore line,
Whatever, hold your breath.
For that moment, everything stops.
There is no sound, or movement.
All your stress and Bullshit disappears.
The focus takes it away and replaces it with the right now,
FIGHT OR FLIGHT.