On a lighter note...

A much lighter note, actually...

If you're ever considering a crash course in weight loss, I fully recommend Picoprep, the stuff I had to drink for my cleansing.

Overnight, I lost 3.5kg. Just goes to show how much is sitting in our gut.

Follow me for more weight loss advice...


Look after yourselves out there, folks...be kind to each other...

Today is my birthday...

 No, it isn't. It's Colonoscopy Day. But it may as well be my birthday... 

Carrying on from my last posting about the Colonoscopy preparation, a few things happened after I left off.

I closed off last night just after 22h00, after I guzzled 250ml of electrolytes to keep me hydrated for the night. Here's what happened after that...

At 01h45-ish, I wake up, thinking my stomach is grumbling. I think I'm hungry, but something else says RUN. So I make my way to the loo, stubbing my toe on the foot of the bed on the way. 

I point the old Rusty Starfish into the Big White Porcelain Telephone (BWPT) as I had been doing for much of the previous afternoon and wait for the fireworks. Nothing.

Stomach grumbles. Still nothing.

Then, from nowhere, I feel my body start to sweat. Strange, I thought, as it's about 12deg outside and raining. Then I realize what's coming.

Twice before in my life, both times (strangely) on an airplane at 35,000 feet, I've needed the loo and broken out into a complete cold body sweat while on the BWPT. No apparent reason, and it lasted only about 5mins both times. Then I wiped my brow and returned to my seat. Story over. 

Last night though, was a different kettle of fish. Sitting on the BWPT the sweat broke out all over my body, from the top of my head to my feet on the floor and all orifices in between. I felt it running down my back, my chest, my arms, everywhere. I heard it drip onto the floor from my elbows leaning on my knees. It actually puddled at my feet and I had to wipe it with a towel later. 

In between, Rusty had opened up again too and was doing his bit to add to the liquids leaving my body, so I was literally kakking up a sweat.

And the difference between this time and the others is that this lasted for almost half an hour. I was in agony, my stomach in knots, all my pores open, Rusty spouting all sorts of shit into the BWPT.

By the time it was over, I had just enough energy to clean up and crawl back to bed.

I must say though, I slept well after that, probably exhausted.

The alarm went off at 06h45 as it was set to do, and I considered resetting it for 30 more minutes as I could only shower and get dressed. I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything before the procedure, which would mean nothing solid in 24hrs and nothing liquid in 10hrs.

My very good friend, Mr Miyagi of cycling fame, arrives on time to take me to the medical centre. As I'm going to be under a mild general anaesthetic, I'm not allowed to drive myself home afterwards. It's a big sacrifice for him, as it will be most of the day waiting for me and I'm eternally grateful for him.

At the medical centre, I fill in more forms, almost duplicate of what I'd filled in online previously, then I am shepherded through to a ward where there is already a guy in one of the six beds. He was a doctor, as it turns out, but sounded like he was in really bad shape.

I'm given a hospital gown to put on, some tissue undies, and a tissue haircap. Very degrading, probably degradable too. Then I have to get into bed and wait to be wheeled through. With time on my hands, I message a few peeps, play a few word games, browse a few sites. Yawn.

Just as I put down my phone though, in walks a couple I recognize as the Joneses, also from Sedgefield. We sometimes cycle together. As it turns out, AJ was also there for a colonoscopy. We chat a bit and then he also has to do forms and gowns, and the curtains are drawn between us.

A few minutes later, I'm wheeled through to another ward to wait a bit longer, after which this subtly gay guy comes through to tell me what's going to happen. Ladies, you would have been jealous of this guy's manicured fingernails. Wow.

Shortly thereafter, the lady anaesthesiologist comes through and chats, tells me more of what's going to happen, then she sticks a needle in my left hand and disappears after telling gay nurse about a black jumper she'd bought in Woolies in Cape Town a couple of days earlier. Fascinating.

Next I'm wheeled into what I thought was just another room, but after seeing the large light on the ceiling realised it was the surgery. The doctor is sitting at a computer monitor with his back to me. People are bustling around and I'm trying to focus on too many things at once to remember any single thing.

Eventually the doc comes to me, introduces himself, tells me more of what is going to happen and goes back to his monitor. The nurse lays my bed flat and asks me to lie on my left side, and I see the anaesthesiologist lift the drip tube that's in my arm.

The next time I open my eyes I'm back in the ward where it all started. Job done. Wait. What? What happened?

I'm a bit groggy from the drugs, but otherwise I am perfectly fine. No pain AT ALL. No discomfort anywhere on my body.

I forgot to mention....this trip also included a Gastroscopy, in which they shove a tube down your throat to check out the stomach and gut from the top end.

Again, no discomfort or pain. AT ALL. I'm amazed. 

A nurse, not the gay bloke, comes in and asks how I am, and would I like my sandwich and coffee, but I ask her to give me a few minutes to gather myself.

I say "gather myself". In truth, I needed time to fart. And let me tell you, after this procedure, you fart long, and you fart loud. They apparently blow air up your butt to open the pipes properly and of course this air is trapped by Mr Rusty Starfish. He is, after all, a one-way valve. Or supposed to be. 🤔

I had bad stomach cramps a few minutes after waking and realised what it was when they started becoming less painful the more I farted. So I farted long, loud and proud. Nobody else was there to hear me. AJ was still in theatre, and the Doc in the next bed was snoring his head off.

Next thing I did was grab the bottle of Jungle Juice I'd brought with me and down half of it. Jungle Juice is what I call the electrolyte drink I use on cycle rides. Because I hadn't had any liquids that morning, I needed some, fast. Then I asked the nurse to bring my sandwich.

Needless to say, I was starving by that time and the toasted ham, cheese and tomato went down like a torpedoed battleship. The coffee was right behind it.

In the meantime, AJ had been wheeled back into the ward. I thought he was sleeping, but then I realised that he was doubled over with stomach cramps when he too started farting. At least I tried to keep the decibels down. AJ had no such reservations.

I grabbed my phone out of the bedside table drawer and notified a few people that I was okay and would be discharged shortly. 

Eventually the doctor comes through and asks me if I ever get heartburn. Huh, what kind of question is that and what does it have to do with my colon? Actually, nothing. During the Gastroscopy he'd noticed a red mark somewhere on my oesophagus and associated it with reflux. I told him the only time I might have heartburn would be after a really heavy night out or maybe a particularly spicy meal, but he insisted that I must be suffering more often than that. WTF?  Anyway, he writes me a script for some tablets and says "Take those for a week and let me know what you feel". I take his script but I know I'm not going to take his pills. It's like he was determined or obliged to prescribe something to me following the procedure. Speaking of.....the doc gave me the "A-okay, all clear". There is zero wrong with either end of my gut. Thankfully.

Poor Mr Miyagi must have been pulling his hair out by the time I was led through to reception where he was sitting bouncing his legs up and down.

The drive home was spent describing the above and talking about various other subjects Mr Miyagi and I have in common interest. A lot about cycling.

At home, I make us a cup of coffee and we chat some more. We also chat about how I'm not able to go camping with them next week because I'm having a checkup done on the two stents I had put in two years ago. Just my luck the appointment falls on the week most suited to go camping, weatherwise anyway. I also need to go to George next week to have the bakkie windscreen changed as there is a big crack in it from a stone a while back. Insurance is paying for that.

I then get changed into track pants and slippers. It's raining and cold outside, so I'm going nowhere, doing nothing, just letting the anaesthetic wear off completely. 

By the time 17h00 comes around, mother and I have cracked open the OBS and we're considering what to order in for dinner. Just when we'd instead decided to head out to the new Texas Grill for eisbein, the Nephewmonster comes in and shows us that his body is covered in red spots!! 

He says they're not itchy so I don't know what the hell he's picked up. The school put out an alert a few weeks ago that there was some Hand, Foot and Mouth disease going around in some of the kids. It might be that, but I'll get him to the quack in the morning to confirm. 

My takeaway delivered pizza was delicious. Just one slice was more than I'd eaten in the previous 31hrs, so I had 5 slices to make up for my loss.

So why did I say it was my birthday at the start? Well, apart from the spotty monster, I've actually had a great day, all considered. It is especially satisfying to know that you have been given a clean bill of health on something which affects so many people. 

Also, tomorrow is a special day for another reason............ Maybe more on that late tomorrow night or Friday. Maybe.

 

 

Look after yourselves out there, folks.....be kind to each other...

 

Anonymous commenters...

I like hearing from anybody that reads the drivel I put on this blog. I mean it, anyone.

Things is, I would also like to know who you are. Just a name would be enough. Doesn't matter if I know you or not.

In the comments section, there is a choice labelled "Name/URL" where you can type in your name. Touch on that and enter your name. I'd love to hear from you.

Please...tell me your name. 🙏





Look after yourselves out there, folks.....be kind to each other...

Diary of a Colonoscopy..

What a shit subject to write about... Literally and figuratively.

So, as per my previous post, I am having my first colonoscopy tomorrow as part of my complete physical checkup. Getting older sucks, so take my advice and don't get old if you can help it.

No, I'm kidding. Go out and live life to the fullest. Make sure that colonoscopy, when it comes around, is worth every damn cent your medical aid isn't going to cover.

Anyway......so part of the procedure is what's known as a "cleansing". What a misnomer. Cleansing is something you might do to your car engine when it's running sluggishly. Come to think of it, that's quite a good analogy.

In your car engine, you would pour a liquid additive into your fuel tank and after a few splutters and farts, the engine exhaust pipe should be burning a mild grey colour rather than a dark black. Much the same grey as my backside is right now, I would hazard a guess.

The cleansing consists of a powder, actually quite pleasant tasting, dissolved in lukewarm water and taken three times, once every three hours. The other thing you need to do is drink copious amounts of water. About a liter per hour, actually. I feel like I'm drowning.

I imagine most people who go through this cleansing must go through a similar experience, but here's a blow-by-blow account of mine. See if you can relate... I doubt it.

08h00 - breakfast - two microwaved eggs on white bread toast. Lovely and tasty. The last solid food until after the procedure tomorrow. From now on it is water, black coffee or Bovril. Nothing else.

10h00 - drink first glass of water - no worries there

10h30 - drink second glass of water

11h00 - drink third glass of water

11h30 - drink fourth glass of water. Go for a pee.

12h00 - mix the cleansing powder in lukewarm water - drink fifth glass of water - starting to get concerned about causing a shortage of water in the town

12h30 - drink what feels like twentieth glass of water. Water restrictions have been imposed in town

13h00 - drink the evil powdered potion and lay back to wait for the fireworks to begin. It's supposed to take 2 to 3 hours before anything happens. Actually, it tastes a pleasant citrus flavour...not bad. Drink thirtieth glass of water. Lie on the bed with a direct line of access of the Big White Porcelain Telephone

13h10 - have a pee

13h30 - drink fiftieth glass of water. Have a pee. Stomach starts grumbling. Maybe it's just that I'm hungry. Maybe not.

14h00 - yep, you guessed it...drink seventieth glass of water. Have a pee. Have a cup of Bovril as lunch but also to not have to drink another glass of water. Walk about the bedroom, in case motion will bring on movement. Stomach grumbling louder. 

14h30 - Hmmmm...no fireworks yet. I wonder if this stuff works. Drink ninetieth glass of water

14h40 - have a pee

15h00 - water. Water disaster declared province-wide. Water tankers brought in from next town. Stomach grumbling so loud the cat lifts its head to investigate

15h30 - national water disaster declared. Not caused by myself, this time because of ANC government theft. Drink one hundredth glass of water

16h00 - drink second citrus-flavoured concoction. Seriously wonder if this stuff works. Drink two hundredth glass of water

16h01 - squeak out a little fart. Oh wait......... RUN!! 

Also 16h01 - so the cleansing begins. I will spare you the gory details. Suffice to say, it was not pretty and was possibly the longest I have ever sat on a loo. If you've never seen this classic Billy Connolly comedy skit, I suggest you watch it now. It will detail, exquisitely, what I went through between 16h01 and about 16h30.

16h30 - get off loo on legs that feel like jelly. Spend 10 full minutes trying to clean the place up before the next episode. And you know there's a next episode coming because you have just drunk one more citrus-flavoured cleanser, and there is a third at 19h00. Happy days.

16h31 - sit down again. You're not quite finished this round

16h40 - get up again. Have an internal debate whether that grumbling noise was just wind, or if you're about to sit down again. Take a chance, get cleaned up, go and lie on the bed

17h00 - drink 250th glass of water, also some USN energy drink for some electrolytes or dehydration could happen. Wait, what, dehydration?? How the hell do you get dehydrated after drinking all this water?

17h30 - gingerly move through to the lounge and relate experience to mother who, mandatorily, gives you a sympathetic ear. Drink 300th glass of water while mother sips on her sundowner. Life sucks.

18h00 - move back to the bedroom to lie in wait while family has dinner. I'm so hungry right now, I would fight my 82yr old mother for a lick of her spoon, never mind steal her plate. Have a glass of water

18h20 - return to the Big White Porcelain Telephone. Begin next phase of cleansing. My gut must be really dirty, based on the volume that is, by this time, being issued in jets of watery "stuff". Anybody need to thread a needle? Leave it at the door and I'll get onto it shortly. 

18h30 - Drink. More. Water. Mix last sachet of citrus-flavoured drain cleaner in warm water

19h00 - drink last drain cleaner liquid. And another glass of water. 

Expect more disruptions to the evening, but nothing for a while. Start wondering if it's over. Then remember you've only just drank the last glass of sulphuric acid and it takes a couple of hours to work. Damn. 

20h00 - RUN!! 

20h15 - return to the couch to try and watch a bit of TV to relax

21h00 - retire to bed to draft the gripping tale that you're reading now

21h30 - remember that I'm allowed a cup of black coffee. Ah, instant bliss. What's that noise? My stomach growling again? No, just a thunderstorm rolling in. Thank fuck for that.

21h54 - RUN!! 

22h03 - return, whimpering, to bed to wait for the next instalment.

22h04 - guzzle down 250ml of electrolytes as I'm not allowed anything past my lips until the procedure is over. It's going to be a loooooong night.

Right....so as the last few bits of this tale were in "real time", I can't really carry on without making stuff up. And believe me, none of what you've read so far has been made up. Well, okay, I didn't really drink 200 glasses of water and there isn't really a water disruption in town. The rest of it though, is gospel. 

Tomorrow is going to be interesting. Needless to say, the moment I get out of that surgery, I'm heading for KFC and probably a bucket of chicken. Even the cat is looking tasty right now. 

Now I'm going to read for a while to see if there are any more movements. Failing that, I'll be putting the light off around midnight. 

G'nite everybody... 

 

 

 

Look after yourselves out there, folks.....be kind to each other... 

 

I am shitting myself...

Well, not literally. Not yet, anyway, but I will be within the next four hours or so.

For those that want the gory details, tomorrow I'm going for a colonoscopy. This will be my first, and it is something one should (apparently) do when one is getting on in years to make sure that all is well down in the land of the Rusty Starfish.

Firstly, I'm not allowed to eat anything between now and tomorrow. Nothing solid anyway. I am, however, allowed to drink clear soups like Bovril and chicken broth. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

Then, at around 13h00, I have to start taking a special drink to begin emptying the gut, so I'm pretty much housebound for the rest of the day after that. I've been told to not trust a fart. Sound advice which I will take to heart.

I also have to drink copious amounts of water during the whole treatment, but at least I can have energy drinks and the like and it doesn't have to be clear, tasteless water, which I really don't like.

Anyway, the doctor's receptionist has just called to confirm the time, so now I officially start shitting myself...literally.



Look after yourselves out there, folks.....be kind to each other...

A Silent Call for Help...

Is how it started, but it's developed now to occasional Whatsapp messages and a couple of phone calls.

And I can't blame her. "K" is having the same challenges and stresses with her parents as I've had recently with M. In fact, more than what I had, as she is dealing with both of her parents descent into dementia at the same time.

K and I lived in the same village, and went to the same school, in KZN more than 40yrs ago. I would have been about 15, and she about 12, when we first met. We were carefree, enjoying our youth, nothing more than school to worry about really. We lost touch when I left the village to go and work in Durban after finishing matric in 1979. That's life.

We hadn't heard from each other, hadn't even friended each other on FB before a few weeks ago, until I saw her invitation in my FB feed.

K made first contact on FB Messenger after I'd posted my blog about M's dementia and my admitting her into fulltime care. We swapped phone numbers and it was a strange first call, hearing this grownup voice which had once had a youthful higher pitch, to hear how she's grown up, now has a family of her own and two young men for sons.

We got through a few catch-up topics but then got onto how she is struggling with getting her parents to accept that they either need fulltime care, should move into an assisted living facility with 24hr care, or should move back to K's home and allow her to assist with their care. Unfortunately, dementia parents decline into resistance to change, believing they, regardless of age, are still capable of doing everything they used to do 20yrs ago, and refuse any and all assistance. Sometimes that refusal can get quite verbally heated, another symptom of the disease.

Inasmuch as I could, I listened to her experiences which were much the same as mine, offered some suggestions, swapped more information, talked a lot, formulated a plan of sorts that K might be able to use to get her folks to agree to the care they really do need.

Unfortunately, getting agreement from a dementia sufferer and getting them to stick to it, is about as easy as herding cats. They sometimes listen through what you're trying to get them to understand, tell you they understand, but then 5mins later the dementia has robbed them of the train of thought and everything falls into a heap. Rinse and repeat.

Sadly, I can't be there to help her with her challenges, but K has a great support structure behind her, a loving husband, two sensible lads, a carer for her parents who keeps her in constant touch through calls or messages, and a friend of her parents who might be able to influence them to accept the changes they need to make.

What I can do though, is be there for her if she needs an ear that is "removed" enough from her immediate circle, that can listen and talk her through the shitstorm she is going through currently, and be there for her when it escalates further, which it will, I'm sure. Her parents, and in particular her father, are very headstrong and adamant that they are coping and do not need assistance. Dementia sufferers just do not know that they need help, far less admit that they have a problem they cannot control.

The parents are good folks, are a very close family, but like other dementia sufferers, lose contact with reality more and more as it worsens. So sad, again, to see and hear how this horrible disease robs good people of living out their days in healthy comfort and peace.

K is going to have to make some life-changing decisions on the parents behalf, quite soon, and may have to go the legal route to get Power of Attorney over their affairs. That's one shitstorm that I avoided, and I don't envy her having to go that way if it turns out to be the only possible way forward after trying all other avenues of making the changes they need.

K...you have my full support and as much as I can be of help, you have my number, so don't hesitate to call if you need me. Any time. And if there's one thing I learned quite quickly, it is that you need to use the people around you for support. You cannot do this on your own. Be strong... ♥️




Look after yourselves out there, folks.....be kind to each other...

"What's wrong with you?"...

Why do people say that to you when they notice a change? Like you've suddenly grown a second head, or a third leg?

I can understand when, if you're feeling a bit down or maybe physically in pain, that it might be said to you out of concern, but when there's a smile on your face it's also asked? Well, to some it might be painful to smile, but not me.

I've had a few people say it to me recently and my response has typically been "Absolutely nothing. I'm having a fabulous day" or something to that effect.

Why? Because I have.

The last couple of weeks have been good. My physical health following Bike-gate, Tortoise-gate and the bronchitis is getting back to normal. I am starting to feel stronger on a bike.

I feel happy.

So, that's what's "wrong" with me.

I'm in a good space for a little while now, and there are a few reasons aside from increasingly good physical health.

I have a few people who have contributed to that feeling too, in particular LOMA (currently still visiting family) and Z (my brother in Krugersdorp), and a couple of the Striders and cycling group friends. They are all a caring bunch of people whom I gratefully call friends and would do almost anything for.

What brought this posting on though was something that happened at the club last night after we all got together for a drink following our respective walks/runs. Someone said to me, "What's wrong with you?" and I'm like "What do you mean?", to which the person says "You're smiling." At first I was a bit offended, thinking that it's probably not the first time I've smiled, but then I said to the person, "Yes, because I'm happy."

For the first time in nearly four months, in fact I might say a whole lot longer than that, possibly a year or more, I do feel happy. Or happier than I was back during those days. Of course there are still a couple of things weighing on my mind, but there are a few that have been lifted too. And I am grateful for that, because hopefully people will get to see the more carefree version of me...

So, look out folks.... Happiness is on the horizon...

 

 

Look after yourselves out there, folks....be kind to each other...

 

Untitled, as yet...

Why? 

Because right now, I couldn't think of a title appropriate enough to describe what I'm going to write here. Usually, I have my title foremost in mind before I start with the content, but tonight I'm at a total loss... 

Here's why...

Those that read my ramblings will know that I posted a couple of very emotional experiences lately. If you don't know of them, just scroll down from this entry.

I have a few very good friends, a number of friends, and a number of acquaintances in my life. I like it that way. It keeps it real.

I only have three "brothers" though, excluding my late sibling brother: men that I can say that I love and not feel embarrassed about it. 

In no particular order, those three are my Irish-Yankee brother "A" who lives in the USA, my Anglo-SAffer brother "P" on the KZN south coast, and my Italo-SAffer brother "Z" up in Krugersdorp. (I'm mentioning so many people on this blog that I'm running out of initials).

The first two have their own histories, to be written about some other day. This post though, is about Z and in response to something he posted on his blog to me earlier today, and for which I am truly thankful.

Z.... I know you've been "through the wringer" of emotions in the last few years. You treated someone like an absolute queen and it did not end well for you. I was gobsmacked when I heard what had happened, in total disbelief.

But... You stood up, shook off the dust, and carried on, ready to face the next challenge, ready to fight the next battle, stronger for the experience. And there have been a couple of battles, many emotional.

You are the epitome of the proverbial "man among men", strongly committed to those in your inner circle, especially your boys and their young families and partners. The way you care, and stand up, for G-man's lady is commendable.

But to get back to your posting...

If there's one thing I've learned in the last four months it is that being emotional is okay for a man. We were brought up to be tough, that's the way it was done then, and it worked then. But it did not prepare us for later life, when we would get older, become more mature, become more frail. 

I've cried more in the last four months than in the last forty years. The difference is that I'm not ashamed to say that now. I doubt that I'm all cried out yet either. Yes, I went through all the "why me's" that you mention and all the guilt associated with the changes that brought about that rhetorical question. Rhetorical, because it never truly gets answered. Maybe just as well. But, like you in your situation, I have got stronger emotionally, ready for the next challenge to be thrown at me, ready to face it head on. 

And you are right about being alone conjuring up all sorts of head-winding thoughts, but what I've found is that being alone is okay, but being lonely is a killer. The difference between those two is staggering. It's loneliness that hurts most and I know you've been there too, probably still are. I hope that your "J" comes to her senses and realises what she's missing out on by not being with you. You two should have been together a long time ago.

I thought I'd done an okay job in hiding who my LOMA is, but between you and my daughter it is evident I didn't do a good enough job. You're both spot on. Time will tell what will develop there and I think we're both on the same page on that. One can only but hope that it is good, but it is early days yet.

I am extremely happy that you find as much comfort and solace in your "Dad" as you do. He obviously guides your principles, your ethics and morals, your beliefs and, ultimately, your whole life. Anybody that knows you will see that you are committed to God and his teachings.

I look at in a slightly different way though. I know you won't be offended by my views either, because they have so many parallels and similarities. I just call them by a different name.

Trust me when I say I have no problem with any religion, so long as it is a peaceful religion, there for the benefit of its believers and to mankind as a whole. I have no problem with religious people, except those that try to force their beliefs onto others. To me, religion is personal. What you believe in is up to you. And I believe we are allowed to have differences and tolerate the differences of others.

You may recall that M is a religious person too. I say "is" because only her mind changed, not her beliefs. We lived quite happily together with that difference between us. (In fact, I have something for you that I believe she would want you to have. I will send it to you.)

I don't believe in any specific deity, God, Buddha, Allah, whatever you want to call it. I believe I don't need to devote myself to a particular religion. I believe that, so long as I am a good person, nothing else should be demanded of me by any higher power and I should not have to answer to that higher power. 

That said, I do believe there is a higher power, an unnamed higher power, but it is not demanding of me. It does guide me in my life, my decisions, my choices, my actions, sometimes without me even realising it but it lets me make those and either reap the benefits or suffer the consequences.

I have had those chats, sitting on the deck, tears streaming down my face, looking for answers. Mostly, I've found answers but there are still a whole lot more I need. Maybe those questions will be answered some day, only time will tell. 

Thank you for being the brother that you are. You are one of my rocks and I have the utmost respect and love for you. 

Ciao Fratello... 

 

Look after yourselves out there, folks... Be kind to each other. 

 

A day of mental turmoil...

...like none experienced since 30th January.

Today was a complete mindfuck in so many ways, it just beggars belief. In the end, at about 14h30 I had to get on a bike to try and clear my head. Cycling is about the only way I currently have to free/clear my mind of conflicting/competing thoughts and emotions, probably because there is nobody that I could/would ask/use to hear me out. I am too emotionally charged these days and too proud/stubborn to open that side of me to those close to me because I would become a blubbering mess in front of that person.

It all started just after 8am. I slept later than usual because I could, there was no school lunch to be made due to the holiday, I didn't want to do the long group MTB ride because I struggled yesterday and felt that a day off the bikes would do me good, and I only got to sleep just after midnight because I was waiting/hoping to see if a certain someone was going to contact me.

As it was, she did. Just after 8am this morning. I'm lying in bed, coffee cup in hand, browsing the WWW and my phone pings. You have one new Whatsapp message. Okay, I get quite a few of those per day, at all hours. I open the phone, and was more than pleasantly surprised and happy to see who it was from.

There is someone whom I have grown quite fond of in recent days. Strangely, we haven't said more than perhaps a dozen words in each other's company, yet have swapped messages on almost a daily basis for a couple of weeks. We first met at our shared walking club, Sedgefield Striders, a few months ago, when she rejoined after having recently relocated back to Sedgefield but never swapped more than greetings.

I made a complete ass of myself a couple of weeks ago when, at our monthly club braai, I finished braaing my meat, wandered over to the table I was sitting at to find her sitting in what I thought was "my" chair. I had hung my grey jersey over the back of the chair to mark it as "mine" when I went to braai the meat. When I got back to "my" seat, she was sitting in it. Seeing the honey-blonde hair, I threw out a witty comment like Papa Bear from Goldilocks did, "Who's been sitting in my seat, and is still sitting in it?" and I got greeted with an incredulous stare as if to say "WTF are you talking about?" but she pleasantly said something to the effect of "I think you're mistaken". It was then that I realized I had walked one table too far from where my jersey was actually hanging over my empty chair. She too had a grey jersey hanging over her chair. I sheepishly apologised and slunk off to sit where I was supposed to. No doubt she thought there was/is something wrong with me.

Fast forward a few weeks......On the Wednesday following a walk on the previous Saturday, I sent her a message and asked her if she would like to go out for coffee, a drink, or dinner sometime. I had been going to ask her in person on the Wednesday, but fate conspired to keep her elsewhere, so I couldn't resist any longer and sent her the message that night. I got a lukewarm response, understandable after "braai-gate", but kept in touch. We friended each other on social media, as people do these days, and have swapped comments and emoticons at each other's photos and postings.

But where are my manners? My parents taught me that it is rude to call a lady "she" and I apologise. For the sake of this posting, and future reference, we shall call her "LOMA". It is an acronym I picked up many years ago when I lived in Durban. The editor of The Natal Mercury coined the term as reference to his lady friend, and means "Lady Of My Acquaintance".


Anyway, I digress.....back to this morning.....coffee in bed/phone pings/surprise...


LOMA sent me a Good Morning message, perhaps in response to a FB posting of mine the night before which said "One text from the right person can change your whole mood", but perhaps also to let me know that all was well with her on her drive to Pretoria to visit her son. That message changed my mood from "Wonder what I'm going to do today" to "HELLO!!" and an elevated pulse. It was a simple message but it kick-started the day like a mule on crack kicking a bucket into next week.

That, unknown to me then, was the start of the turmoil in my head and from there it was downhill like a rock down a mineshaft....

As any of my regular blog readers know, my M is in a local care facility for people with Alzheimer's/dementia, and I visit her a couple of times a week. It is my duty and I carry it out as faithfully as I can.

Again, as you may have read earlier in my recent ramblings, things are not going too well with M, and I believe her mind is failing her at a more rapid rate than just a couple of months ago. She now takes a split second to realise who I am, and I think it won't be too long before she forgets altogether. I am one of a handful of people that M remembers by name. Right now, I think I may be the only one she will remember without being prompted. It's a horrible disease and destroys not only the afflicted person, but also those around them who have to watch the person deteriorate.

My visits are always spent chatting, or rather listening to M chatter in the manner of a dementia sufferer. She switches from subject to subject every few seconds, often not even finishing one sentence before starting on another subject. Mostly we sit at a large table in the facility where there are also a number of other patients staring into puzzles or art projects, but now and then we go for a walk. The end of the visit is always hard, more so on me I believe as M's memory doesn't allow her to dwell on a subject or instance for anything longer than a few seconds at most, so she quite quickly forgets that I was there. In fact, I can walk out of the room, wait five seconds before walking back in, and she will believe I have just arrived. When I left this morning though, there was, for the first time, a confused look on her face as if to ask where I was going and why wasn't she going with me.

It hit me like a hammer blow to the back of my head. I left the facility as fast as I could without showing my distress, then sat in the car and bawled my eyes out like I did the first day I left her there at the end of January.

Once I got home, my mind started playing tricks on me. A number of people, since 1st February, have told me to make a new life for myself, in all respects. A close female friend even suggested that that should include a new relationship. There have been a few hiccups since that day, but I figured I was getting on top of things. Now I'm starting to wonder.

I've started doing things differently, being (I think) more open and friendly in my approach to people, listening to stacks more music than I had been before 30th January, have ridden my bikes longer and harder than ever because I now have the time to do so, have opened myself to new experiences I wouldn't have thought about before that date, and have even considered whether a new relationship should form part of that "new life". To be completely honest, I had decided to let life take its course and if a relationship is on the cards for me, then so be it and I will evaluate it as it happens but be totally transparent with whomever becomes the LOMA.

Because we haven't spoken face to face since starting to swap messages like friends/companions, and because I've posted quite a few entries to this blog over the last couple of weeks and shared them all on FB, I have assumed that LOMA is aware of my situation. The horrible truth is that I don't know if she is. I don't know if she reads my blog. I think she does because of a specific comment that someone anonymously left one day, but again, I can't say for certain that it was her.

I wanted us to get together to talk openly before now, but fate has conspired to make that not the case. I'm fearing for the worst, fearing that it might destroy any kind of relationship (in whatever form) we may have going forward. If it does, I will be devastated, not so much for myself but for LOMA, as she would be the one wronged by my situation and the fondness I think she feels from me.

Hence my emotional turmoil today.

By the time I went for my bike ride to clear my head, I had gone through just about every possible scenario that could happen in this situation and I was driving myself nuts. I was snippy to anyone that tried to talk to me, I was emotional to the point that I couldn't answer my mom properly without swallowing the lump in my throat when she asked whether everything was okay with M.

I had to get out of the house just to get away from the voices in my head and the ride did me good for a while. Right now though, after midnight again, and I'm going through that same turmoil. As the saying goes, "I'm bricking myself". I don't know what to expect the next time I communicate with LOMA as this entry, if she reads my blog, may be the first time she fully understands my situation. I know she met M at Striders at the beginning of the year, but I don't know if she has the full picture.

I'm about to post this entry and share it to FB, so I might just find out in the morning.






Look after yourselves out there, folks...be kind to each other...

 

 

Interesting times lie ahead, methinks...

I'm not going to say much more than that on this posting, in case it causes a bit of embarrassment to someone, or I'm seeing it for a bit more than it might be just now.

Time will tell whether I'm right in my anticipation of something good starting up, most certainly a couple of weeks, so don't start pestering me about details in the meantime. My lips are sealed. 🌻

Look after yourselves out there, folks...and be kind to each other...

 

An open letter to my Dad...

I was sitting pondering what, out of the hundreds of possible topics running through my head, I could write about tonight.

Actually, no, that's a big fat fib. I was at a total loss...again.

But then, tadaaaaaa, FB to the rescue. I saw someone post a meme about thinking of someone, and someone else had commented that she was writing a book about her mum who, by the sound of her was one amazing person having raised nine kids, in poverty, by herself. Worthy of a book, for sure.

So that gave me the idea. Not a book, but an open letter to my father. Short, punchy, to the point, from the heart. Here goes... I hope it's worthy of him.

Dear Dad,

How the hell are you? Last time I saw you, you looked at peace. I hope that's still the case.

I know you're keeping tabs on everyone down here, watching over us all as you always did while you were physically with us. Thank you from all of us.

There are some things you couldn't know though. Things that are in my head. Things I either never said, or have come to mind since you were taken from us.

Would I change anything that happened between us, or was said? No, I don't believe I would. They were supposed to happen, so did.

I have only good memories of time I spent with you, either on a golf course, playing snooker and drinking beer in a club somewhere, deep sea fishing all those years ago in Stanger, fly fishing on a cold lake in the Drakensberg (the only time we went fly fishing together), arriving back at the house with you on the back of my Marauder only to have you burn your leg on the exhaust pipe, sitting on the verandah overlooking the Indian Ocean talking, drinking, playing Trivial Pursuit, sometimes just sitting looking for whales passing. Those are just a few. There are plenty more, but those are the ones that come immediately to mind.

There's a few other things though, things I never got the chance to thank you for. As humans, we always fail in this department and wait until the person is no longer with us before they are said. I'm no different there, I'm afraid...

So.... Thank you, in no particular order, for:

- being my dad. Nothing more needing said on that.

- teaching me to be a gentleman, to respect people and their differences to me.

- teaching me to play chess even though I ended up whipping your ass, causing you to give up playing.

- the laughter you brought to my life. Life would be dull without it.

- my taste in music. Like yourself, I have a wide taste in good (bad, according to some) tunes across all genres.

- getting mum pregnant with me. Without both of you getting it on, I wouldn't be here.

- the hidings you gave me as a kid. As painful as they were then, they ended up valuable lessons and taught me many things, like how to keep my head down when passing a hockey ball instead of lifting the ball through the neighbours window.

- teaching me a love of sports as a whole. Even though I didn't really excel at any one sport, I've enjoyed every single one that I've played or competed in.

- being there for me. Though I probably didn't confide a lot in you, I knew that if I couldn't figure it out for myself, you would be there to help. Mostly though, you let me figure out things on my own, which was a valuable lesson in itself.

- my siblings, especially my sister. Yeah, she was your favourite, but who could blame you? I don't hold a grudge on that. Well, maybe a bit... No, fuckit, I don't...kidding. She's my rock.

- teaching me to be the best person I can be. Granted, I've dropped the ball on that a "couple" of times, but I think I'm getting there, all thanks to you letting me fall down and dust myself off, learn my lessons, while waiting in the wings if ever I needed you.

- teaching me values, ethics, morality. Sadly, those are lacking in the world at large, but I learned mine from the best.

- teaching, and allowing, me to be myself, to be decisive, thoughtful, mindful, respectful, caring.

- respecting me. At least I'm sure you did. If it wasn't mutual, I would have felt it.

- loving me. Through all the challenges I presented you through the 57 years I knew you, we had our differences and hiccups, but in the back of my mind I never doubted that. I still don't. (Can't believe it's almost 6yrs since you left us already).

- the talks we had. You were one of the most intelligent people I know, with a vast knowledge in many subjects, and I enjoyed listening to your explanations of things, knowing you were still teaching me something even at my age.

I'm sure more things will come to mind in time, but these are the most important.

The only other thing to say is that I miss you, "faither".

Rest well. Love you.

Look after yourselves out there, folks...be kind to each other...

 

Music to my Ears (Part 3)...

And now for today's instalment of "WTF is he listening to today?"...

Continuing on E from last time, here we go...

Electric Light Orchestra (Jungle) - Because everybody likes to sing along to this classic.

Elle King (X's and O's) - Raunchy daughter of actor Rob Schneider. Great vocals.

Ellie Goulding (Lights) - Because everyone loves to dance, even through Spar with the headphones on while shopping. Oh wait, that's me...

Elton John (Rocket Man) - One of a handful of his songs I enjoy, and it always reminds me of this meme...

The English Beat (aka The Beat) (Mirror in the Bathroom) - Brilliant Ska tune.

Eric Church ft Lzzy Hale (That's Damn Rock and Roll) - This is Eric's song, but Lzzy, in her usual sexually-charged raunchiness, totally owned him...made him sound like a wuss. Crank it for goosebumps...

Evanescence (My Immortal) - Memories of an ex-wife...even looks a bit like her in this video...(I really fucked up here...nuff sed)...

Everything But The Girl (Missing) - Another memory of earlier-mentioned lover... One would think I had baggage...{face palm}...

Fat Boy Slim (Right here, Right now) - Our anthem track played at full welly on the yacht to Zanzibar, every time we pulled into a port.

Five Finger Death Punch (Wash It All Away) - YT surfing late one night, couple of drinks in the gut, come across this and it's like "HELLLOOOOO"...

Five Finger Death Punch (Digging My Own Grave) - If I could play guitar, I would love to do an acoustic version of this song.

Fleetwood Mac (The Chain) - Because everyone loves a bit of Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie. Too many other FMac tracks could be listed here.

Florence & The Machine (Spectrum) - Great voice and dance rhythm. Crank it...

Freya Ridings (Castles) - As above.

Goldfish (Get Busy Living) - As above, but not so much vocals.

Goo Goo Dolls (Name) - Secretly admiring someone from afar, not wanting to tell anyone her name.

Grand Funk Railroad (We're An American Band) - One of the greatest rock n roll bands, IMO. Loads of their songs on my rock playlist. And let's face it, who doesn't want to be in a rock band? Be honest...

Green Day (American Idiot) - Visions of M prone, naked, on a Mozambican beach in the full moonlight. Not sure where the correlation is there, but that was the song of the time.

Celeste (This is Who I Am) - Can't believe I left this out earlier in the sequence. The title track from the BBC series remake of the old Day of the Jackal movie. Haunting voice. Crank it...

Halestorm (I Miss the Misery) - Lzzy at her raunchiest best. Crank it...

Harry Connick Jr (Forever, For Now) - A smooth crooner and an accomplished actor too.  A song to impress the chicks...

Him (Rip Out The Wings of a Butterfly) - Though why anyone would want to do that is beyond me.

Hinder (Lips of an Angel) - Memories of drunk dialling a beautiful colleague and telling her I would do anything for her. WTF was I thinking? Ok, she was seriously hot...

Hothouse Flowers (Christ Church Bells) - Can almost picture the Irish church, blanketed in thick, cold mist, the peal of the bells distorted by the thick air.

Howard Jones (Like to get to know you well) - Mid-80s New Wave song, probably came out at the peak of the genre.

Wang Chung (Dance Hall Days) - As above. Typical dance track.

Human League (Soundtrack to a Generation) - Possibly their best track, but not their most popular ("Don't You Want Me"). Another typical 80s dance track.

Hurts (Sunday) - Upbeat track, possibly a good dance track after a few drinks.

Aaaaaaaand that's it for today, folks...

Look after yourselves out there, be kind to each other...

Music to my ears (part 2)...

Further to my earlier list of songs and their reasons for influencing me, here's the next instalment:

Blondie (The Tide is High) - Because which teenage lad wasn't influenced by the luscious Debbie Harry?

Bob Dylan (Maggie's Farm) - The Poet Laureate, IMO. Good enough to receive the award, humble enough to turn it down.

Boston (Party) - Because everyone loves a good rock and roll party song. Many other Boston tracks could be listed here. I have memories of cruising down to the local beach in a friend's VW bug, Boston blaring out of my Hitachi boombox bought with my first salary cheque.

Boz Scaggs (What Do You Want the Girl to do?) - My first blues rock influence. Thanks, dad! And I still listen to the Silk Degrees album regularly, by far his best, IMO.

Bryan Adams (When You're Gone) - Another love lost...{sigh}...

Canned Heat (On the Road Again) - My favourite Woodstock track.

Carly Simon (Nobody does it better) - Smooth vocals.

Cee Lo Green (Bright Lights Bigger City) - Grate dance track with an excellent beat. Crank it.

Chicago (If You Leave Me Now) - Memories of slow dances with the girls at the club in the mid-1970s.

Chris Cornell (Arms Around Your Love) - Lonely times sitting in Dubai on project.

Chris Cornell (Billie Jean) - Yep, that Billie Jean. This version is raunchy, unlike MJ's bubblegum version. Crank it for goosebumps.

Chris Spedding (Motorbikin) - Influenced by my Uncle James when we went back to Scotland on holiday in 1975.

Christina Aguilera (Beautiful) - Sad song, but so much meaning to the lyrics. Phenomenal voice.

Coheed and Cambria (Ten Speed Of God's Blood and Burial) - Awesome rock track, stunning guitar riffs, sung by the guy with the biggest hair in Rock n Roll.

Cold Play (Sparks) - Heard for the first time somewhere in the Madagascar Channel on a boat, sailing to Zanzibar. Also gave M this album for her 40th birthday and she went searching the tracks for a hidden message... I thought it was obvious...

The Cranberries (Zombie) - RIP, Dolores. you were brilliant.

Crash Test Dummies (Swimming in your Ocean) - It's not often that you have to explain to your dad that he is singing about making love to a woman, but in this case I did...

Creed (With Arms Wide Open) - My favourite drunk karaoke song. I rock it.

Crowded House (Fall at your Feet) - First band I ever saw live, Standard Bank Arena Johannesburg, somewhere in the mid-1980s. Brilliant stage show.

Dance With a Stranger (African Road) - Underrated band, disappeared early in their career.

Dave Matthews Band (What Would You Say) - SA-born, moved to the USA in "protest" of conscription (chickened out, more likely). From his best album, IMO, "Under the table and Dreaming".

David Bowie (Aladdin Sane) - Memories of that first love, which also led to the eventual birth of my "Babe".

Dead or Alive (You Spin me Round) - Solo dancing on the floor at Nello's disco, Durban, mid-1980's. Entrance cost you ten bucks, your alcohol was free, you just had to pay for the mixers. Good times. Drunk times.

Deep Purple (Child in Time) - Ian Gillan's vocals were next level. Too many other DP tracks could be listed here too.

Del Amitri (It Might As Well Be You) - A track for future love.

Depeche Mode (Policy of Truth) - There are just waaaaay too many DM tracks I could list here. They are my favourite band of the New Wave era, and they have stood the test of time though there were a couple of hiccups along the way. There are always a large number of DM tracks on my New Wave playlist.

DNCE (Cake By The Ocean) - Great dance track. Crank it.

Dougie MacLean (Ae Fond Kiss) - Stunning version of Robert Burns' poem, sung by Scotland's favourite poet.

Duran Duran (Hold Back The Rain) - New Wave influence. Possibly one of their catchier tracks off the Rio album.

Dusty Springfield (Fine, Fine, Very Fine Love) - Debatably the finest female vocalist ever, sensual, perfectly in tune.

Edith Piaf (La Vie en Rose) - The best of her time. The rolling of the R's in typical French manner. And another love lost... {face palm}...

And that's me onto the E's already. Let's leave the list there for now...

Look after yourselves out there, folks. Be kind to each other...

Ren...

Chances are good that, like me, you've never heard of this young man.

I don't know his history but it sounds like he's had a hard life for one so young, unless it's part of his musical persona. I doubt it though. He seems genuine.

I posted earlier today about music I listen to and a short list of tracks and why they influenced me. In response, my musically like-minded daughter (my "babe" who also dislikes (c)rap music) answered my FB post asking if I'd heard of Ren and, in particular, his song called "Hi Ren".

I hadn't, so I went along to YT and did a quick search. I was pleasantly surprised. The man has talent, poetic talent.

The song might seem like a lot of noise or meaningless to some, but it's obviously about his struggles which he refers to in the narrated ending. Listening to the lyrics, he doesn't try to be poetically rhyming, but each line feeds from the previous into the next, telling a story of hope and struggle.

The track is nine minutes and some seconds long, but it's time well spent, I think. Take a listen and tell me what you think. I think it's genius.

Thanks, babe...♥️♥️

** UPDATE **

Since the posting above, I've listened to a half dozen or so of Ren's songs and come to the conclusion that his only difference to other rappers is his subject matter. While most "traditional" rap is militant in nature, Ren's is mental. His mental. I don't think the kid is all "quite there". Still, the "Hi Ren" track, I will concede, is quite brilliant. His other stuff though.......nope, not for me.

Look after yourselves out there, folks... Be kind to each other...

Music to my ears...

...that's all music. Well, except rap, which is actually a four letter word starting with a capital C.

Most of you who know me, and those that have read this blog, will know that music plays a large part in my life.

It doesn't matter where you are, what you're doing, what you're experiencing, who you're with, who you want to be with, who you used to be with, even who YOU are, there will be a song that will perfectly describe you or any of the emotions you are going, or have been, through. The song probably won't come to you at that precise moment, but even after some time a song will play that you'll think, "That song reminds me of xxxxx".

Music may not always bring good memories either. Too many of us have gone through heartbreaking times, but still a song will come on and remind us of a particular person, place or event. Music in all its forms, is emotional. Music can be happy or sad, or bring on an emotional response in memory of a good or bad experience, person, place, etc. And the emotions that surface hearing that song are sometimes healthy, remind us of things, people or experiences we had forgotten recently.

Music may bring us out of a funk that we'd settled inadvertently into. Only when a particular "happy place" song comes on, we realise we'd taken a bit of a slump that we need to drag ourselves out of.

My personal collection ranges from the old classics, Beethoven, Bach, Rachmaninov and those lads, through all genres (yes, even (c)rap though I seldom listen to that) to the hardest of metal rock you can think of, like Disturbed, System of a Down, Rob Zombie, just to name a few. There is a song for every possible emotion I could have, or have had.

Some music sticks with you through the years, music that you were either influenced by a parent, or you heard in your teenage years with friends, music by bands that you saw play live on stage. Some music gets reintroduced at a later point in life that you ignored or poo-poo'ed when you were younger that you come back to in later years and admit to yourself that it is actually pretty damn good music and you should have listened to more of it at the time instead or rubbishing it straight away. Maturity will do that for you as well.

Other music will catch your ear as you grow up, through various ways and influences: radio, TV, social media (probably the biggest influence these days). I've picked up on some music through the intros to TV series, movie soundtracks, even adverts.

And biggest point of all, music is personal. It doesn't matter what others think of your choice of music. Or, if it does, it shouldn't. Music is like your personality, it is yours. It adds to what makes you, you. And bugger anybody that says otherwise. If people turn their nose up at your playlist or choice of song, that's their problem, not yours. The song was/is your experience. Yes, you may change your playlist when you have friends over for dinner or a social event to suit the event, but you will always go back to the music that is your current biggest influence. If you don't, you're not being honest with yourself.

Sitting here, I've gone through three different genres of music already, purely because I've started off with one (Duran Duran, New Wave music), to Dusty Springfield (60's female vocal) and am now listening to Stone Temple Pilots (grunge). It's one of those days when you say to yourself "Okay, scroll down the playlist five times and whatever is on screen, play it". Kinda like the YouTube rabbit hole of music videos.

If I had to list some of my recent music choices, and why I chose them, they would include the following:

Savannah Pope (He Sees Me) - A feelgood song, but the emotion behind her being accepted by him for what she is. On top of that, she has a great voice. Those notes she hits are amazing.

Talk Talk (It's my Life) - See above description of music being personal. And New Wave was part of my late teen years.

Tears for Fears (Advice for the Young at Heart) - Rushing into relationships. A weakness of mine? Certainly in my youth.

B52s (Love Shack) - My happy song. Instantly takes me to a happy place.

Shinedown (Get Up) - When I'm in a funk, this one sorts me out. It screams "Get out of it. There's more to life than what's happening now. This is temporary."

30 Seconds to Mars (A Beautiful Lie) - Memory of an event that happened 25yrs ago. "M" didn't like a painting I had which depicted prancing horses, so she gave it (supposedly) to a young girl she knew that had her own pony. She, however, told me a beautiful lie to cover up her getting rid of the painting. Needless to say, I made her get it back. I still have it.

A Flock of Seagulls (I Ran) - Another New Wave influence. Great dance track.

Alphaville (A Victory of Love) - New Wave influence, but a great track that starts off slowly and crashes into a great beat.

Alterbridge (Fable of the Silent Son) - "M" introduced me to these guys, the remnants of Creed after they split up. Possibly better than Creed, due to Myles Kennedy's influence and great vocals.

Bachman Turner Overdrive (Not Fragile) - Teenage years influence, when rock was giving way to a different type of rock. Along with Bad Company, Deep Purple, Status Quo, Thin Lizzy, to name a few.

Basia (Cruising for Bruising) - A memory of a lover. She'll know who she is........

Beach Boys (Surfin USA) - Memories of my days spent in the salt water, usually two hours at a time. Go to nightshift, 7am cycle to North Beach (Durban), surf two hours, go home, eat, sleep, repeat.....good times.

Beethoven (Overture Leonore No3 C-major) - Memories of peaceful Sunday mornings.

Beth Hart (Get Your Shit Together) - Title says it all... Came across this version while doing the YT-rabbit-hole thing. The raunchiness of Beth's voice is gripping and Joe Bonamassa on guitar is brilliant.

Big Country (In a Big Country) - Memories of Scotland.

To be continued...... I've only just scraped the surface (only just started on B) and there are just too many tracks to list in one posting...

Look after yourselves out there, folks...

I think we all want this...

Who wouldn't, because then you would know you've done your bit and nothing more could have been expected of you...

Look after yourselves out there, folks... 

Today was a good day...

For the first time in three weeks, I got on a bicycle. On purpose.

With the ribs having been less sore than the last couple of weeks, I decided to wake up with the sparrow fart this morning and join the road bike crew for a Speedsnake session on the Swartvlei road. This session is usually done on a Tuesday, but it was raining yesterday morning so it was postponed to today.

I just wanted to see if I could comfortably ride a bike but especially the road bike because there is no suspension on those bikes, unlike the dual suspension on the mountain bike. If the ribs hurt too much on the ride, I could always turn around and abort the ride.

Leaving the driveway in the very early morning light, bike lights lighting my way down to the starting point, I was surprised to find only a small niggle on the "floating rib". The back side ribs weren't complaining at all. Things were looking up, so I continued to meet up with the crew.

Having not seen me for a while, many were surprised I was there as it is only three weeks since the injuries, but being the great bunch of people they are, welcomed me back and asked after my health.

We set off at a pace faster than usual, then settled into a peleton formation for the couple of km's on the highway, before turning off onto the Swartvlei road.

At the beach parking area, my Mr Miyagi took the customary group photo for posting on the cycling group Whatsapp chat page later.

A quick digression...."my Mr Miyagi" is my very good friend who got me interested in cycling, despite my vowing never to do so when we lived in Cape Town. He has been cycling for many years and, even in his early 70s is still one of the strongest riders here. I use the term Mr Miyagi in the fondest of terms as he is my mentor (in life, as well as cycling) just as the youngster had his Mr Miyagi in the old film, Karate Kid. He has taught me most of what I know and do in riding a bike, and I can definitively say I have learned from one of the best.

Back to the ride...

We cruised up and down the flat road, doing about a half dozen laps, then headed up the hill on the highway for a short hill climb before heading back to our usual coffee stop at a local eatery.

I was very happy with my ride, especially as I haven't ridden for three weeks, and didn't feel too tired at the end of it once I got home up the last hill.

So guess where I'll be heading at 06h15 tomorrow morning... Yep, tomorrow being Thursday is also road bike day, so I'll be out there again.

As much as I needed, and enjoyed, the time off the bikes, it was damn good to be back on the road again today...

Look after yourselves out there, folks...