Occupation of mind, spirit and body.

Over the past thirty years since I first tried to turn my fitness level around, it quickly became apparent that fitness was not something the average fifty year old woman had much interest in. I did not like being fifty at all but of course it was better than the alternative. I joined a gym first of all with my man, and then started to address my gradual weight gain over those years.

When I had my first assessment at the gym, the manager whose name was Leanne, was most helpful. During a short fitness test interview, she asked me to see how many sit ups I could do; I have always had strong legs, but it appeared that my core strength was poor. To be truthful I am still pretty rubbish at sit ups by the way. Still within just a few weeks I improved at all kinds of other disciplines and soon looked and felt a hundred times better and it was not long, before Steve and I took our running out of the gym and into the countryside.

Then taking a big jump; during the autumn of that year Steve taught me to swim front crawl and the next year, we took up triathlon and I made the discovery that hardly any women of my age were involved in that sport at all. Nearly every event I took part in, found me to be the only over 50 female. That made me the age group winner, just the same as in a one horse race, that one horse scoops the win, the money and cup. In motor racing should all the cars crash or get mechanical problems, the one car left that fly’s past the chequered flag wins. So in triathlon I became something of a motivational figure. I know of one married couple who used to go to watch their children do triathlon, they looked at me enjoying myself enormously, turned to each other and said if she can, we can. And so it went on.

Well enough of blowing my trumpet, any body else want to take a few blasts? OK forget about me and my pesky triathlon.  The world has slid into a time that is far more challenging and I for one think it is most important that we meet this challenge in a positive way or even a more aggressive way. Turn this all over in your head and use the time and make a pledge to come out of this dark time as a better person. Revise something that you used to know, start to learn the language of the country that you had booked a holiday to before the rot set in. Do some indoor exercise or at least start to go for a walk a few times a week but keep away from other people while you do it.

I am missing my family and friends enormously even though in this day and age we can sort of keep in touch can’t we. Telephone, Facebook, Email, Instagram; lets be thankful for those.

Most of my friends are swimmers and some are bikers, runners, or gym bunnies. Then there is my poetry set, some of whom are the same ones as in the first set mentioned. I miss even the idle chatter in the changing room. The jokes and harmless insults too.

It is the last day of March today and I have been indoors now for four weeks apart from a dawn run three times a week. My desk diary tells me that it was on March 5^th that we in the UK learned that our lands first person had died from this deadly disease. Now look at the figure racing up through the second thousand.

None of us know for certain that we will not be one of those statistics before we reach the end of this uncertain time. However, I have been sensible thus far and so will not be casting the runes and waiting for death to come like Queequeg in Herman Melville’s classic tale of Moby Dick. Still the poor chap did go down with the ship in the battle with Moby Dick but the coffin he prepared for his body saved the life of his friend. Amen to all that.

So gloom and doom aside, let us try to gain something in our lives whilst we are not able to go to work, or book tickets for a trip to the theatre, go out to dinner with our friends or even hug our adult children who are living not very far away but also keeping themselves very much to themselves.

What can we do to get some pride, some satisfaction? Dig into your own world to come up with your own answer to that. For myself; yes, I will be practicing my headstands and riding my turbo trainer, making sure that when the time comes when we can travel again and go out whenever we want, that I can to take part in the sport I love once more and love it twenty times more for having survived.

You can write your fingers off, if only keeping the love, spreading warmth into your friends hearts or like one of my friends you can start on writing a book. Another friend will croquet this and that for her family. Some of my friends and I will learn more poems. I can recommend learning something wonderful by heart. I always loved Shakespeare and have found ‘Once more unto the breach’ from Henry V, has burst out of my mouth several times lately and is most suitable to this current battle.

My mum had learned a verse or twenty from her youth and taught me many a nursery rhyme when I was young. They are part of her that I will love forever. I have a couple that I had added to my own list of poems that I like and WILL learn in the fullness of time.  The best used book that I have bought in recent months is; Dancing by the light of the moon by Gyles Brandreth. Above the titles on the cover are the words; How poetry can transform your memory and change your life. The book has over two hundred great poems to love and learn by heart. If you don’t know him, check him out on Instagram where he is currently wearing a knitted jumper that matches the poems he is reciting every day. Most of them are most amusing to lighten the misery of the world right now. Thank you Gyles.

My mum knew this one by heard, it was a favourite and had happy memories of her childhood.

Learn something new, do something great. Take up yoga or chess or something. Be kind, try to say something nice in every short conversation. Be uplifting if you can.

Into the woods…. Again and again.

 

Losing an hour tells us summer will start

here and now as the days stretch longer

a little warmth wouldn’t go amiss as the sun

makes maximum effort to grow stronger.

It was actually still quite dark when Steve and I started our run this morning, we could just about make out the path in front of us, so we walked for the first ten minutes to avoid stumbling on the uneven ground. Slowly, ever so slowly, it became lighter. Every day now the dawn will be earlier and so we will continue to set our alarm clock back a moment or two more to make sure that we reach our start point, just that little bit before daybreak to avoid meeting other early risers.

This morning the woods were perfectly still after blowing their hearts out fit to bust yesterday with a cruel northeast blast. I had returned to winter running kit of three layers instead of the two I had been running in; a thin cycling shirt, a thermal half zip lycra top and a Gortex running coat. My hair in a top knot and a warm fleece lined bobble hat. Even a pair of fleece gloves did not prevent the ends of my fingers suffering with the cold.

The star prize gained from so early an outing was that again, there were groups of deer darting across our path or through the woods; all of them this morning wore dark coats although two days ago we did spot a white one. There are pubs in the countryside called The White Hart but you have to be lucky to spot these, since they are few. I had spotted the white one, that was with a dark companion but by the time I had shouted ‘Stop’ to Steve as we drove to our start point, he had fumbled in his coat pocket for the phone camera they had both darted into cover. Darn.

The rest of the wild life report for today was a little Yellowhammer that lives in a hedge along the way, that we often see and hear, popping up to say a perky hello, then just a couple of rabbits. The most stunning occurrence was the sudden loud shriek of some still sleepy little creature, probably a pheasant due to them being bred for shooting and therefore being brain dead as far as wildlife survival skills are concerned, it was killed by… I suppose a fox, they are on the prowl at all hours in search of food (or actually just for fun) and it was far too early for the lazy Red Kites. The ruckus sounded close, on such a still morning but we saw nothing of it.

Although the woodlands gradually grew lighter with the dawn the longer we were out there, running the transformation into full glorious colour took time and we were half a mile from our car before the sun majestically rose to take full command of the illuminations.     

Where we go to run is close to where our ailing business stands. I say ailing, but for the present it is quite dead, since most of our clients are from elsewhere on our stricken planet. The largest group is from the USA and the last to visit to buy antiques were from Australia, Africa, Tasmania and Malta too. All future journeys have been postponed, probably until the autumn or even next year. So tight now, when we have completed out run, we can quickly check that all is in order and pick up any business mail before returning home.

Once indoors in the warm, we continue with the rest of the incarceration management exercise programme. We are settled into daily Tai Chi that brings numb fingers back to a comforting tingling life. Then a stretch session before yoga today.

Our little cat Birdy doesn’t like the Tai Chi at all and goes immediately away, out of the room whilst we engage it that part of our activities. That’s intriguing isn’t it? She comes in to join anything else but prefers the floor exercises which for her, involves biting my hair whenever she can and lying is silly positions as if showing off her superior flexibility.  

The photo at the top of me performing a headstand, shows how far from the truth the expression, ‘You can’t teach an old dog new tricks’, is. Well ok, it is a trick that I have not attempted to do for over fifty years, which goes to clearly show that if over the years you have lost a degree of your youthful flexibility; with daily gentle practice, inch by half a centimetre, you can earn back at least a degree of the movement that you thought you had lost long ago. 

Still on the theme of using this disease ridden time and to give the brain and/or the body a good shake up. The poem below comes from a challenge I threw out to our poetry group at what was to be our last meeting for some considerable time. In fact, I posted my version of this exercise not many days ago when I included a challenge that I had set myself some years ago by choosing a well known poem, taking the pattern, piece by piece and inserting words that fitted my mood at the time. Mine was Steve’s Smiths astonishing, Not Waving But Drowning. Then making it fit the fact that my hips had changed form after a period with two limbs in plaster as they repaired form an accident. Mine was called Not Limping but Frowning.  Sorry Stevie.

  Glenda Jackson here as Stevie Smith

So here I present the first of my friends who rose to the challenge. She has retired from triathlon, which was how we met, she now still works her body, and other peoples since she is a physio therapist and her main sport now is Paddling her canoe along rivers and lakes.  She found a new talent after being press-ganged into joining Scribblers a year or so ago.

 Good effort my friend, I really enjoyed this. Don’t know what Rudyard Kipling would say but I am sure he will be smiling broadly from his seat in Heaven.  Having seen Glenda Jackson play the title role in Hugh Whitemore's West End play, Stevie, she might not take my wrecking on that poem quite so well.  

If - Apologies to Rudyard Kipling, a brave and amusing rewrite exercise by Elaine Scott.

If you can keep your head, when all about you,

are loosing theirs, and blaming it on to you.

If you & your family can manage to self isolate,

without continuously arguing about your fate.

If you can trust Boris to be effective,

when even he has tested positive.

If you can wait outside in the supermarket queue,

keeping your 2 metre distance true.

If you can avoid listening to lies or fake news,

even if Trump always seems to.

If you can keep up with the sound advice,

Yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise.

If you can train yourself to wash your hands,

singing Happy Birthday twice through.

If you can avoid touching nose, mouth or eyes,

and learn to cough and sneeze into your elbow.

If you are worried about your futures,

and watch the things you gave y0ur life to, broken.

Stoop & build them up with worn out tools,

and leave the fears in your mind unspoken.

If you are worried about your family & friends,

a call, a text or a Skype is now the trend.

A cheery wave, across the street,

a note through the door, will be such a treat.

If you can find joy in your daily outside exercise,

fun with the kids on their bikes & scooters will be no surprise.

Spring is here, Ciarra & Dennis long forgotten,

A new found fitness regime, can only blossom.

If this proud nation, observes the law,

scientists promise the Corona virus will withdraw.

Leaving our NHS, greatly strengthened,

Always ready in the future to defend us.

28.03.20

Classic Sunday training session

We are managing to keep our triathlon training going and hold our spirits high at the same time. It is not a time to fall apart, but a time to remind ourselves just how strong we can be if push comes to shove….. Which it has by the way.

I say that in the light of the fact that whilst I was getting out of the bath just now, I heard that police were called to break up house party with 25 guests, I didn’t catch where they said it was but obviously not very nice people, who I can only think are too stupid for words. It is not possible now, not to have grasped the seriousness of the present situation worldwide. Twenty five people who couldn’t care less how many people they infect or even in time, kill.

This morning we wanted to start at 8.30 am giving our neighbours an extra hour in the sack in case by chance they had not put their clocks forward an hour to summer time. It was Sunday into the bargain.

Both side of our little home the neighbours have enough problems. On the one side the curtains have been pulled in the bedroom for a couple of weeks. They are a youngish couple with a boy of seven. There has been a lot of coughing going on from the lady of the house. Her husband taking care of her and their little boy. An ambulance crew were called a couple of days ago but they left with just their equipment cleaning it all down before stowing it in the ambulance.

On the other side of our house a younger couple who married about a year ago live. The woman who is a hairdresser with her own salon closed that about a week ago. She is pregnant and the baby is due in a couple of weeks in mid April. What unfortunate timing. What a memory of the infants birth, when friends and relatives will be unable to visit. They are always very polite when I have seen them up until now, speaking to me as they would their grandmother, most respectfully. What a world to bring a baby into.

So as I say we did not start our training too early so that our movements did not disturb either woman. We began quietly with two Tai Chi sessions watched from You Tube. Then a stretching session. After that we took coffee before going up to our Turbo ( box) room. Since it is Sunday we chose to do a less noisy session. We have taken to doing this of late out of consideration, but still getting our legs doing some easy spinning for a couple of hours. So what we have started doing is watching one of the many old DVDs we have on our spare room shelves.

Today I chose, The Royal Hunt of the Sun. I am familiar with the Peter Shaffer play since I have always been a theatre fan and had seen it as a play years ago and then I had also been to see the movie that we were watching today when it was first in the cinema. Christopher Plummer Stars in it looking years younger that Captain von Trapp! Robert Shaw was the other main character. My husband had not seen it before and, old as this film was he thoroughly enjoyed all of the 115 minutes of it. We are very much enjoying this part of our home stay. Some great examining of peoples deeply held beliefs as well as more than a hint of the deepest love between the two main male characters. Marvellous play.

Our little minx of a cat bird watching, she didn't like the movie at all, no romance or mice.

On not eating our way through troubled times.

On not eating our way through troubled times.

We ran out of mineral water today and worse than that we ran out of wine.

My husband does not drink alcohol and never has. Even he is not clear if that is because he came from a regular party family who needed next to no excuse what so ever to get the glasses out and put some music on, or because he was a competitive swimmer, doing well at his sport at the age when most youngsters get the taste for the demon alcohol. As for me, although my parents drank no more than a glass of sherry at Christmas or to toast the bride and groom at a wedding; I admittedly have developed a liking for a nice relaxing glass of wine with meals.

Like so many people we have been getting our household supplies on line from the start of this massive health scare. The shortages in stores are only due to panic buying where people have bought enough toilet rolls the service an exhibition hall or football stadium. We are finding it hard to get enough fresh fruit and vegetables. This is not war time. There are not shortages from suppliers, the shortage is false, forced upon us by stockpiling habits of so many among us. 

Admittedly we have a quite rigid eating plan rather than a strict diet as such. We usually try to make sure that that we only eat fresh food but that has got rather difficult of late. Our usual habit is to be very strict Monday through to Friday.  In fact I don’t eat at all on those days until our evening meal, though Steve does a little snack sometimes, but not much. The evening meal is taken between 5 and 6 pm. There is not a great deal of variety on those five days. We alternate between chicken or salmon fillets served with a large salad the ingredients of which vary, but we both prefer lambs leaf, then there can be seeds, sultanas, beetroot, tomatoes, avocado, spring onions, fruit etc. dressed with home made salad dressing so that we know it does not contain E numbers and preservatives.

We do not have a first course on those days but we do have dessert of fruit, home made sweet things or ice cream…. We are both ice cream faces.

On Saturday after our training we have coffee and bagels with cheese and jam.

Normal Sundays, before all this, we would do our Sunday run and then go in to one of Arundel’s many tea shops and have a chat with our friend Birgit, who joins in our run session by starting after us and finishing a few moments before us since she is faster than we are. We have tea and/or coffee and cake. Then we go home and our dinner will be closer to 4pm and is usually something we have been thinking about, a steak maybe or venison even or a different fish dish served with whatever vegetables we fancy but generally a larger meal than weekdays.  

The whole idea is to avoid putting weight on, because of our sport, rather than being a slimming diet. Holding steady and making sure we eat fresh healthy food to keep us fit and strong.

I have mentioned before that I was born just before World War II so I have seen shortages when it could not be helped. Even after the war there were job shortages and some very careful shopping. Food was rationed. Sweets and chocolate were included in that rationing but mostly my parents could not afford such luxury. Now and again at a weekend my mum would buy half a pound of broken biscuits and we would have tea in bed on Sunday mornings and take turns to pick out a piece of our favourite biscuit. My mum made my clothes out of old clothes or curtains that she bought at jumble sales. I have seen harder times than these. 

These next few months will be testing for all of us but the answer is not to eat our way through it and find ourselves having trouble getting the jeans to do up. I think we should think of others who are worse off than ourselves, the unfortunate ones who have caught this deadly virus, the families who have lost loved ones. The death toll is still going up and will continue to do so. The least we can do, is try to stay in touch with our friends and family even if it can only be done at a distance by phone or social media. Try not to only think of ourselves. Let’s keep our spirits up by keeping busy, doing useful things and keeping in shape which is something we can and should do at this time. 

 Our local swimming and sports centre Littlehampton Wave has had to closed so swimming is out until the sea warms up a bit more. However we are doing our bike training indoors on turbo trainers in our box room and getting the run done extremely early in the morning a few days a week. That is the only reason we are leaving home and calling in to check all is in order at our business (that sadly has no business right now) to pick up our business mail on the way back. 

I addition to that we are doing classes that we have found on You Tube: Pilates, Stretching, Tai Chi, and Yoga. In fact most of our morning is devoted to holding on to our fitness levels. Then we find other ways to keep busy by catching up on all the jobs we have put off when we were too busy and too tired. Steve has done loads of stuff in the house including shampooing the carpets a room at a time, sprayed our little brickwork area in the back garden with weed killer. I have done sewing jobs and gardening as well as much more writing to keep my head on straight. The poem below is another of my early works; it has suffered several rewrites and is a memory from my childhood. My D.O.B. 14.08.39 so around five years old on returning to Worthing from the war years in Yorkshire.

Platform 1 Worthing Station 1945

A little girl shook her neat shiny curls

cultured by mother, to her discomfort;

traced the wording in the advertisement

on the machine with her eager fingers.

A tempting picture of chocolate bars

not one of then lay in a stack as shown

on the illustration on the façade.

The little lass could not understand why.

Her fingers handled the slim metal slot

where customers coins were invited in.

The space at the base where the chocolate

should tumble, as cold as it was empty.

Why fix a tempting chocolate machine

On platform 1 of the railway station

invitingly, and yet not fill it up

With special treats, that kids so want to eat?

Shattered Dreams, Oh and bones! Part 2: Surviving adversity.

Shattered Dreams, Oh and bones!

Part 2: Surviving adversity.

I am sure that my husband had no idea how bad my injuries were. I had done a fair job at letting him think that I had just sprained my ankle, though he had seen the swelling and deepening purple shading as well as abrasions on my arm. The reason I say that he could not have fully grasped the situation was that because to my utter surprise, after we had left the airport he did not take me directly to A&E at Worthing hospital. Our first port of call was our business warehouse.  It was like being in a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from, I can only think that the pain had numbed my senses. As Steve got out of the car he asked me to come in to see if there were any emails that needed answering. This is a man who is normally very kind and loving.

He can’t type and so I do all the emails and invoices. I managed to type using mainly my left and keeping the damaged right hand in one position, just the middle finger. I said nothing dozy tart that I am. After what seemed like an eternity we left the warehouse.

Instead of turning toward Worthing, Steve turned toward home, its is only two miles as the crow fly’s but about four going around the farmland and houses along the main roads. If you imaging a square, our home and our business premises would be on two of the opposite straight sides with no direct road route, there is a way by foot but not for traffic. He stopped at a store on the way home and picked up some shopping for our dinner. He normally does all the food shopping and likes to do the cooking; we have a system of his and her jobs that works well.

Continuing on my ‘No Escape’ nightmare, he did drive us home. I struggled indoors and he unloaded our luggage. When he had done that, he started to get us something to eat. He cooked some mini chicken fillets and prepared a salad that was mainly Lambs Leaf. He is a most excellent cook and everything was delicious.  I was not able to cut anything up and still locked in my own strange little world; I said nothing and just stuck my fork into the little fillets and ate it from both ends toward the centre with each bite. When we finished eating I managed to say “I won’t be able to do the washing up….. Sorry”. That is something I always do, I am the washing up slave. We have never bought washing up machine; that is something we both agree about, it doesn’t make any sense to us. The Kings New Clothes.

When he came he came back in, he turned the TV on and handed me a second glass of wine.

I sipped that and finally gathered enough of my senses to say “I think you had better take me to the hospital tomorrow morning, hope you are not too busy”.

I had worn odd shoes, one of my trainers and one of his since the fall because my foot was so swollen. Steve looked surprised actually and took a good look at all the damage and said that he thought I was right, I should have both areas looked at.

The accident occurred on Sunday May 12^th. Our flight back to Gatwick was on Tuesday 14th

So it was the next day when we went to the hospital Wednesday 15^th.

I was a bit of an angry bunny for a few days afterwards stuck indoors with my hospital booted leg up resting, and my arm in plaster from my fingers to a couple of inches above my elbow. I tried not to be too much trouble but I am a world class fidget and Steve called my daughter to look in on me now and again while he got on with the work that had piled up while we had been away. I had to go back to hospital a week or so later to have more x-rays on the arm, so I had to have the plaster taken off and then after the x-rays I was sent back to see the consultant after he had looked them, to see if it was all in order, I was sent to have another plaster put on, thankfully a bit smaller and not encasing the elbow. I had an appointment to have to plaster off on June 21^st.

I had plenty of time to think. I needed to make a plan to get through the recovery time and not to go totally mad. I could not do any training of course and I obviously could not drive.

So I tried to think what I could do to keep my mind occupied. I had scuttled through some books but that was not helping my unrest. 

When I was a school I was in a speech choir that was conducted by the poetry teacher Mrs Thomas, and I loved the time spend learning new poems and being trained in a group to perform them. She devised a number of tests and duties for us and one was to read the lesson at assembly that I really liked doing. Mrs Thomas entered us for festivals and we learned amusing poems for school concerts and to keep the other girls happy on rainy days at lunch time in the school hall. I was sent for poetry exams in Brighton. All most enjoyable.

So that was it then; get back into poetry. I set about thinking up a challenge to get me through this annoying time and that was when I decided that I must… MUST….. write a poem every day until I could get back to my triathlon training.

This was my first effort. I did write  a poem every day and found that it immediately gave me something that made me happy, not a task at all but sheer pleasure, my bad mood lifted an drifted away. Steve does not have any interest in poetry but was happy to listen to my daily word workout and comment after each reading. This first one, he said was nice but he prefers verses that rhyme better. In fact he only likes the ones that rhyme, straight four liners. A-B-A-B or better still every line rhyming. I was happy enough that he would listen. It’s good to have a sounding board. It made me smile even more. He still listens to all of my work and is completely honest. If I write anything too serious he will just say “Heavy man”. That fine, I can live with that. I carried on the one per day for a couple of years. I still write regularly whenever I have time spare and find it enormously therapeutic.

      

Gazing Skyward

Ribs like a Halloween skeleton, purest white

or a swan queen’s feathers cruelly drawn

ghostly fingers tease so soft and light.

Angel wings drift in, movement slight

tinted pink and gold as they were at dawn.

A warm spring sky fades to a hazier hue

as a gossamer lace wedding veil is spread

heavens sigh with delicate shades imbue.

Swallows dart to earth, like dark kisses flew

Dusk, crushing to a million shades of red.

So I got through the darkest days with the help of my poetry. Looking forward to getting out of plaster but of course that is not the end of it really because you have lost physical form and building up slowly into a little bit of training, but making sure that I did all my physio first to get movement back. It was long road back and when the ITU World Championships in London came along in September I was nowhere near back to normal fitness let alone at my best for a major race.

I had also put on a bit, no, more than a bit of weight and that did not make trying to run again any easier. Extra weight makes no difference for swimming or cycling but it sure shouts the truth when you try to run. None the less I did take my place on the GBR team. I was nowhere near back to normal but I was back, and that made me very happy indeed. I was well and truly thrashed by other ladies in my age group and I came 6^th out of eight contestants. Still I was as happy as a pig in the brown sticky stuff.

 

 

You will get that what I am bellowing about is; that this current state of affairs is a test for us all. We must apply ourselves to getting our heads on straight.  If we stay strong through these dark days we will reach that light at the end of the tunnel. If only our younger friends could have got that much earlier on the situation it might not have been half as bad. But due to their denial, thinking that young people didn’t get the Corona virus, they carried on spreading it around until now the numbers of those infected is doubling every few days.

An ambulance was called to the house next door to us today. We now know people who have this plague like disease. Even the PM Boris Johnson has tested positive, not to mention the heir to the throne Prince Charles. Stay away from your very elderly but strong minded parents for the love of God.

I hope the spirit of Stevie Smith will forgive me for this abomination that was number 149 in my poetry writing. It was a bit of a release at the time, seeing that I had changed shape through my poor wonky foot.

Not Limping but Frowning

Nobody noticed me, said the woman

As she stood by the mirror glowering

I didn’t notice it happening

I’ll stop limping and frowning.

Poor lady, she thought of remarking

My hips no longer match

Limping on that broken leg has made me lopsided

I will the limp despatch.

Oh bugger, tits and bum and shit

Walking straight, and in pain drowning

I have hobbled too long that’s it

And now not limping but frowning.

Stevie Smith 1903- 1971

Not waving but drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much farther out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he’s dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning

Shattered Dreams, Oh and bones!

                                                    Looking out at Mount Etna

Shattered Dreams, Oh and bones!

Following on from yesterday when I was searching for times in my life that were worse than the current mainly house bound present period, there are a good handful of times when I was considerably less happy than I am today. A burst of the Monty Python song that is such a hit at funerals these days should be sung every morning that we wake until this thing is over so here we go:  

a 1, a 2, a 3 and 4

Some things in life are bad,
They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a whistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best

And
Always look on the bright side of life!
Always look on the bright side of life  

If you were to take a look at the list I proudly made of my triathlon successes years ago you might notice that 2013 does not appear. The year started well with us planning a holiday in Southern Italy to celebrate our anniversary. We share a love of travel and because of that we spent a good deal of time looking at maps. At that time, the map that I was obsessed with was the foot end of the boot shape, that a map of Italy roughly looks like.

Alberobella

So as always, thinking about making me happy, Steve booked flights for us to Naples.

My husband told me to pick the overnight stops, then he chose the hotels. Cutting this story much shorter we had a marvellous time, long drives with fantastic scenery. On the way south from Naples we could see Sicily getting closer and by the second night the glorious sight of Mount Etna from our balcony. It was an amazing holiday and all of the stops were in the secret Italy list as far as most people are concerned. We worked our way slowly round to the heel end of the foot and on the Saturday night stayed in Lecce that had fabulous Roman ruins in every direction. That meant that we would take a run on Sunday as we always do. We ran five km out of the town on a roman road that we all know means straight. 

Lecce

Soon after we made our turn to head back, I put my foot in a hole and came crashing to the ground. It was opposite a café bar where there were a number of men sitting outside drinking.

Nobody got up to see if they could help. I tried the walk but I knew that my foot had been broken I should add at this point that I am a silent screamer. Steve is saying “Talk to me, say something” I said “Don’t touch me”.

An elderly lady came over from a block of flats carrying a bowl of warm water and towels. She wiped the blood from my arm and with arthritic fingers, picked out chunks of road that were stuck in the flesh here and there. Then she quietly went back to her home.

Steve went to the bar and asked if he could call a taxi but that he did not have any money. The bar man said ‘NO’! It was hard for Steve to help me because it was my right arm and left foot that were damaged. So I was hopping. The next café we came to, after pleading successfully, the guy did call a taxi and allow me to sit outside while we waited. The taxi driver looked at me and said ‘Hospital’ but I found my voice and demanded he take me to our hotel. I turned to Steve and told him that I would not go to a hospital there, and that I would go when we got home. We had two more stops on the tour that I had chosen and Steve tried his hardest to get an earlier flight but everything was fully booked. I was of few words.

The next day we were booked into the astonishing little hill town of Matera. I chose it having seen it on the Tour de France. It was one of those places with steps everywhere. I climbed the steps to the hotel on my butt, and down the same way the next day. Steve had a walk around leaving me in bed. He took loads of photos for me to see later. The next night we were staying close to Pompeii, though there would not be the planned gem of a visit there. 

 

At the airport the next day I stopped Steve asking for a wheelchair in case it meant that we could not get our easy-jet flight. It was a struggle getting up those stairs, agony actually, but once inside the kindly steward had seats moved and I sat just inside the door. When we got to Gatwick he had ordered a wheel chair for me.

After we got through X-ray at Worthing Hospital A & E department, the nurse had came back and said “Well, you have done really well and got a hat trick of breaks”.

                                                             We are not amused 

So that was most of my triathlon season sailing out of the window, starting with the National Aquathlon Championships the next week. I would be stuck indoors with my leg up, and struggling to do anything at all with my good left arm that was broken in two places.

With a qualification from my previous year I had a slot on the GBR team for the ITU World Championships in September in London and with four months to heal there was only an outside chance of me being fit for that.

To be continued.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

  

   The light at the end of the tunnel painted by our cousin Sally Cooper

This morning I spent some time looking through my photos on a mission to find evidence of when exactly in my life, that things were worse than they are now.  These are scary times and here in the UK bound to get worse before they get better. The idea being that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel has been in question because for many people there was no light, no beacon to aim at and they have lost there struggle against this cruel virus. Well that is the hope anyway. I was reminded of this expression by our cousin Sally Cooper who lives fairly close to us and is a Facebook friend as well as family. Sally is also a talented artist and has an exhibition coming up soon after we do actually get to the end of the flipping great tunnel.

The first one I found was this holiday photo taken maybe forty years ago. We were on holiday staying at the Hotel Central in Sölden, in Austria. We had been summer glacier skiing, hiking and eating too much. The hotel is in a marvellous position to cater for any of those. On the ‘what to do board’ in the reception area was a photo offering a day trip to sample White Water Rafting, there was a photo similar to this one here, pinned on the board. Neither of us had ever done anything like that before. It looked like fun and a bit of an adventure, something different.

As we read all about what the day entailed, we chatted about it and asked questions, to see if it was alright for novices and were told that there would be an instruction talk before hand at that there would be an instructor in charge on the raft. We were told that the tour guide from the hotel would also be on board and that he had been several times and loved it. So we paid our money and had an early breakfast before going to the bus to be taken to the rafting outfit on the River Inn about 45 minutes away from Sölden.

When we arrived we were and given a good talk that was deadly serious about the experience were about to enjoy and told that we must obey any instructions given by the guy in charge. This was vital, no time for questions once we had set off, although we would have a few practices in calm water before we got to the rough water, to whip us into shape. Then we were led to a shed where we were all fitted out with life jackets that were handed out by a young man who had a nasty swollen cut on his face with stitches securing it.

We were asked to sign a disclaimer. Steve and I looked at each other for a moment and then decided that the whole thing must be safe or they wouldn’t take beginners. It seemed like a lot of fun at first and we quickly got the hang of the paddling in time with the instructor’s orders then he asked for a volunteer to do a fun game to get us relaxed. Of course Steve put his hand up!

He was told to stand on the bench seat between the only other lady and me behind the four men in front of us, then jump from there to the next seat and the next seat and then jump in the water. He did that and we were all laughing. After being hauled in again, he did it again. All happy holiday makers. Two women, four men, plus instructor.

You can’t see Steve in this photo, he is hidden by the man in the front wearing green who was the hotel tour guide, I think his name was Norbert. You can only see my head just behind the Italian man who looks terrified in this shot, he was with the lady with dark hair.

When that was done with, we could hear the noise coming from the rapids ahead. It got louder and the instructor changed to a more serious tone of voice and soon we were doing exactly what he shouted at us as we slipped into the white water that seemed endless but we were working well as a team paddling to the shouts that were hard to hear over the thunder of the water. I couldn’t see anything but white water.

Suddenly there was hard thud, that when right through my body and I was catapulted out of the raft hitting the water hard and being sucked under the surface where I went round and round like a towel in a washing machine. I tried to remain calm as I was thrown around. I was twisting to try to see the surface but I was caught in a whirlpool effect and it all looked the same. I remember it as though it were yesterday. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion and I was sure that I would drown and yet not panicking. I tried my hardest to reach the surface but expecting the lights to go out, I was sure it was the end of me. Only a matter of time.

The suddenly I popped up to the surface and tried to get my legs in front of me to prevent being bashing by the rocks as we had been told in the talk and the practice on the water. I couldn’t see anything but roiling water. Then suddenly I heard a shout and twisted round to see another raft with a man standing up with a life belt. He threw it at me and I managed to grab hold of it. The guy was shouting at me in German and I was pulled toward the craft that he was on, there were several groups of six plus one, all from different hotels.

I was hauled into the boat to see the instructor, who was the rudder man on our boat. It was not until we got to the place where we stopped that Steve came rushing over and grabbed me. He had also been thrown out and had looked for me all around but could see nothing. He told me he had thought that I was dead. He said there was no way I could be under the water that long and not drown. I didn’t have any major injuries but I was bleeding here and there though nothing was life threatening. I had put one of my teeth through the flesh just below my bottom lip and had a few other cuts and grazes but I could stand and to my surprise too, I was alive.

I slept like rock that night but felt quite shaky the next day and didn’t look too good with a black eye and a swollen bottom lip. It is quite shocking to realise how close you have been to death and I was shaken up and felt quite weak even thinking about it.

So having to stay indoors isolated like prisoners in our own home is not such a big deal to me.

My husband Steve and I are keeping ourselves very busy doing mountains of exercise. In fact we are engaging in some level of exercise all morning long and then trying to occupy our minds in other ways, doing long neglected jobs and making contact with friends by email. I had an exchange of news with my friend Helen Silver who lives immediately opposite our home. I was shouting from our upstairs front window and she was outside her house in her driveway. We will get through this. We will keep calm and carry to the light at the end of the tunnel.