The Right Shoes

The Right Shoes

Years ago when I first started running I was completely clueless about which trainers I should buy. That is a dangerous situation to be in and I thank my lucky stars that I was well advised even in my earliest days.

The first step Steve and I took, once we had seriously decided to try to re-find a little of the fitness we both had when we were younger, that time was years further behind me than it was for Steve since he is ten years and eleven months younger than me. Our first move was to join a gym and that was a good move. That is still the route I would recommend to anybody who asked me how they should get fit. We joined the Lotus centre in Durrington. The manager there was most helpful and took her job very seriously. Having set us a programme when we joined, she then checked on our progress on the chart we returned. One day after a month or so she asked me why I had not used the tread mill since that was part of the programme she had set for me. I told her simply that I didn’t do running and never had not even very much at school. I was a dancer as a child and so fit enough but I had no interest in sport and it had not beckoned me in any way. I was not in any of the teams apart from the country dance group.

Leanne the manager, asked me if I had even tried the tread mill and on seeing my face she lead me over and gave me lesson on how to use it very patiently. Then she suggested that maybe it would be a good idea if she stayed with me and talked me through a teeny weeny work out. The rest is history as they say. Leanne later introduced us to her husband Eddie who was a good runner and a coach and he took us both under his wing for an introduction to running outside of the gym and off the treadmill.









He took us on some gentle runs and was more than helpful. He suggested that we went and bought some more suitable trainers and suggested that we went to The Jog Shop in George Street, Kemptown in Brighton. He said that we would get expert advice there from the owner Sam Lambourne, who was a very good runner himself, a prolific marathon runner in fact. He told us that Sam would not let us pick the trainers we needed, he would tell us which trainers were most suitable for us. He added that we should take the trainers we had been using with us because Sam would want to see them.

So off we bowled to Brighton a few days later. We introduced ourselves and told our short tale. Steve was served with no problem at all and was happy with the pair that Sam recommended for him. Then me; Sam looked at how I had worm my shoes and then watched me walk and then jog a few steps within the track lines painted on the floor of The Jog Shop. “You are unstable Daphne”, Sam said. “Takes one to know one”, I shot back at him. He went on to explain that I was a supinator and told me that the best thing he could say about the shoes I had shown him was that they were a pretty colour, but that they were most unsuitable for me and that I needed support, I needed some stability. Not a classic salesman as you can tell from the blunt truth there. Not a person who would just sell you anything you had seen in a magazine and like the look of. He sells you the shoes you need.




He was right of course. I do roll over on the outside of my feet, as shown by the wear at the outside of the heel of all my shoes. I have always worn shoes with plenty of support and long abandoned the idea of lightweight racers. I also always put gel raisers in the heel area of the trainers under the inner sole otherwise the back of the shoe nags at my Achilles.

It was a blessing when I started to do well in my age group in Triathlon when I found a long term sponsor with Saucony. Saucony sponsored me for a good twenty years of my triathlon career. I count that as the most enormous blessing, for which I will be eternally grateful. They gave me new trainers regularly and running kit too which was a marvellous help because sports kit has got to being now, more and more expensive. Saucony stayed with me constantly until they dropped me when they became part of a much bigger group with a wider range of goods over other sports. I still write and tell them how I have done at the end of each season and I always get a reply and that’s nice.
During the time that Saucony sponsored me I wore their Hurricane, Grid and Guide Trail shoes since I do most of my running off road. I am not wild about pounding concrete.

What brought me to talk about all this today was a phone call earlier comparing what we were all doing training wise and I mentioned that the extra classes that we were doing at home had pointed out to me that Sam Lambourne's comment years ago was absolutely correct … I am unstable!













Apart from our running and biking we have so enjoyed our hour long ballet workout class with the New York City Ballet, and the sessions of Qigong that we have totally fallen for and found so helpful during this time stuck endlessly indoors during the lock down. Both of those classes have pointed out strongly that I am and always have been plagued by the dreaded supination. Both of these show that I do rollout onto the outside of my feet probably it started with ballet years ago starting to avoid pressure of the ballet bunion! The hardest thing for me has been doing exercises where I need to balance on one foot. So even this late in life, I am learning to try to place my feet firmly on the ground or I have no chance of any balance when trying to perform some movements on one leg! I am addressing this problem and I am improving this particular downfall. It’s never too late for correction.

Yesterday I spoke about it being a rest day the first in nine weeks. Just out of interest; we did run very early this morning and the Garmin Forerunner on Steve’s wrist, recorded that during our run, we had three new PB ’s for the year. One for 1 mile, another for 5 km and a final new PB for 10 km. How nice was that? We all love a PB it makes us very happy to see that all the training is actually getting somewhere.

If you look at any of the photos today of me running, you will see that my heel is just about to meet the road on the outside of my shoe, ready to roll along the side of my foot.
   

Note: Supination, also known as under pronation, is the insufficient inward roll of the foot after landing. ... If you're a runner who is a habitual supinator, you place extra stress on the outer side of the foot, which can trigger a whole host of other issues you might not be aware of.

Surprise Rest day

Surprise Rest day.

Anybody who has, with the excess of spare time inflicted upon them, checked me out on my diary page, perhaps hoping for a page about Triathlon Past, Triathlon Present or Triathlon Yet To Come, since it is a mass participation sport in spirit only right now and for the foreseeable future.

In my diary pages during plague time, I have covered all of those ethereal ghosts, swirling in and out as dark spectres haunting the recesses of our minds, challenging our strength of will, our determination, our dreamt about possible successes and indeed our very being. Let us stay strong and keep our eye on that goal even though it has seemed to be fading off into the mist of the far distant horizon.

There was a secret held back from me, about how this rest day came about. There has been a daily leaking of my training programme and my hidden extra sporting challenges; not that all the big boys and girls of competition give a damn about what the mad old bat of triathlon is up to in the privacy of her living room, not to mention the early escapes for runs before sun up.

 

Unbeknown to me, my coach, best friend and husband, thought he would test my level of fatigue by, for the first time in almost nine weeks, not setting the alarm clock. He got his answer in that I did not wake until 6.50 am, two hours or so later than usual. That was his answer then; and he declared it a rest day. He told me that he had woken just before six, so that confirmed that I was ready for an easy day, since normally, I actually sleep less than he does. As a rule, when I wake earlier than him, as I do sometimes before the alarm starts clanging, I will be as quiet as a mouse and either pick up my current sewing project or scribble in a note book or write a poem or read.

So there’s a turn up for the books. I didn’t complain, what would be the point. After taking an usual slightly longer look at the so depressing news on TV, sipping our first coffee at leisure, instead of slurping back a few hasty gulps before departing for a run or getting into our cycle pants ready to get on with another turbo session.

I have used the rest of the time to catch up on neglected jobs, like completely clearing the ironing, instead of my usual orderly system of ironing Steve’s shirts and jeans first, then household items, then my shirts, jeans, trousers, skirts and leaving tee shirts to rot a while since we both have hundreds. Today I ironed the lot, every last item. Last on the list of jobs was a couple of items that had waited to be hand washed, that are now dancing on the line in the breeze enjoying the sunshine.

Then I attended to neglected emails and caught up with desk jobs sending some mail for Steve, he doesn’t do typing, I also updated my race programme list with the changes that have come about under the shadow of Curse of Corona.

I am very adaptable and a surprise change of plan does not phase me at all. Last evening I finally completed the freestyle embroidery around the cuffs of one of my jackets. I have enjoyed doing that as a late afternoon or after dinner time, limiting myself to a five needles of threads per night ration, to eek it out to last through the lock down. Now I will start on something else to feed my pain in the neck fidgety moments.

Steve has filled the extra time this morning with some office work then with some weed killing along the path in front of the house and spraying the roses to prevent problems. He has also I have discovered, tidied the garage and changed the cleats on my best bike shoes. We were both brought up in homes where according to our parents… ‘The Devil finds work for idle hands’.  

Magical Memories

 

 

Magical Memories

We felt blessed to be out on our slightly shorter run this morning, after the most fantastic predawn colours fully painted across the sky, so the fact that wildlife count of only thirteen deer, two woodpeckers, a rabbit and some blackbirds was far from disappointing.

We were on our short journey home back home, (proven by the fact that we have not had to refill the tank in two months of lockdown), when a lovely piece of film music by John Barry

came drifting into our ears, when Steve turned on the car radio, that is left tuned to my preferred radio station, Classic FM.

“Oooh” I purred, “Dances with Wolves, the John Dunbar theme”.

“Well you would know that wouldn’t you, one of your Kevin’s I believe”. Said Steve.

 

It is strange but true fact that I have a collection of favourite movie stars who are indeed all called Kevin…. Spacey, Bacon, and the somehow rather appealing Kevin Costner. The collection has nothing to do with the name that is a simple coincidence. Having said that I have read the strange page turner; We need to talk about Kevin, and seen the film about that rather worrying little chap and his mum with the remarkable Tilda Swinton and equally so Ezra Millar.

It may seem to be that my thoughts are darting about a bit here, when I go on to the Hawaii Ironman World Championships in1994. I have been fortunate enough to qualify for the Kona race three times during my many years of enjoyment within the sport of triathlon. 1994 was my first appearance in the most important race in the triathlon calendar. I was so excited when I qualified at the Lanzarote Ironman earlier that year. Having tried and failed to make the finish line the previous year at the same event, in my first attempt to get through the full distance. I didn’t have any huge hang-up about not finishing at my first attempt because as soon as the next day, after suffering dehydration, fatigue and a degree of confusion with 10km still to go on the run, I knew what I had wrong. Indeed in the full light of the next day I realised that I had to work on getting my drink and nutrition right, if I was to get through that very long day at my next attempt.

Going to Kona was doubly exciting because I had got a call from Ian Douglas Sweet who was well known in the triathlon world because he did commentary’s for triathlon on TV and would be heard all the time on Eurosport. This time he was talking about making a film about my race experience. Heavens above what a turn up.  The video was called Hawaii five-5.

I had already been interviewed on TV and radio etc due to my being a rarity, as a mature woman who had taken up as arduous a sport as triathlon at fifty. So that part didn’t bother me at all and anyway I have never been short of something to say. There were hardly any older women in the sport in those days in the UK though a many more in the USA where the sport had really taken off.

With Ian being director and cameraman I had a whale of a time because he knew everybody and everybody knew him. He set up meetings left right and centre and I got to meet most of my hero’s then and there. Before each piece Ian would tell me what to say and what to ask.

I interviewed The Man; Dave Scott. Let me just run that by you again, I interviewed DAVE SCOTT!  I still can’t believe it. John Collins too, one of the original 15 in the first ever home stitched event. It was a mind-blowing experience for me. What is more, walking about the race venue with Ian also meant that I got a lot of freebies including a pair of ZIPP racing wheels and Steve and I were invited on the Media breakfast cruise. I had a private tour of the chocolate factory and was taken to view the bike course by the owner, in his private plane. It was too astonishing for words and the perks went on and on and on.

On race day I had a good swim and a fair bike, ride that I did find hard, because it was hot and clammy and I am not at my best in hot conditions. That is one of the invisible hazards that you cannot see on TV when you watch the race, it looks like paradise and pretty much is that is for sure. It is also windy that can be pretty gusty too. I had been to a talk by Paula Newby-Fraser in Lanzarote and she said that the race began at the bottom of the long climb to Hawi at the far end of the Big Island. She said to stay present for yourself and not allow your concentration to wander and that is so true. She is such a lovely person always free with a few words and great advice.

The distraction that year was that a mega million dollar movie was in the making; Waterworld starring Kevin Costner. MMM! On the climb to Hawi that does seem to go on relentlessly, on the way up to the top, if you glanced to your left you were directly level with the purpose atoll that featured so much in that movie when we saw it the next year. Whilst plodding up a never ending climb your eyes could not avoid the man made island, that was a major set for the filming.

Once at the top of the climb there is a short section into Hawi itself, where Steve had driven to along another route in centre of the island to get to. He waved and shouted at me at the middle of the dead turn in the road and then I was on my way back. More unavoidable views of the Waterworld atoll. On a long fast descent like that one it is not a good idea to spend time gawking at movie sets. I got in to T2 under the bike cut off, even though the wind had turned and was against me for most of the return.

The run was very hot, very hard and seemed never ending. Once the sun goes down during that event they give you a clear soup at the aid stations to make sure you get some salt back in you that you may have lost sweating over your bike handlebars.  It was the hardest run I had done, remembering that I am not strong in the heat and humidity but I got there. Running back along Alii Drive, past the big Banyan Tree that everybody knows about, close to the finish is the most amazing thing.

The crowd support is out of this world and the race commentator shouting, “Daphne Belt you are an Ironman”, is a heart stopping, emotional pleasure.

The first person to get to me after the finish, was Nicola Lunt, wife and Head Everything to UK triathlon event guru John Lunt, My very first race was one of theirs grabbed hold of me and what did she say did she say?  “Well done Daphne?”. Oh No; what she said was, “Kevin Costner watched you finish”!  

Entertaining the isolated

Entertaining the isolated

There may not be many things that have happened in the last couple of months since I have been in isolation, that I can say have made me feel that something worth while has come out of it. The deaths of so many people has had a numbing effect on many of us. It has shocked me to the roots of my being and I can’t believe that the nation is not openly in mourning.

 

Maybe that is something to do with my age. Maybe it has a lot to do with my age. I remember a time when at the death of a prominent person people would sew a black diamond on the sleeve of their coats. A black armband at the loss of a family member would not have been unusual. Yet it’s like holiday time when I look out of our window. I don’t get it.

Does anybody remember the play 1984 when people were kept amused so they didn’t think at all, much less do anything to interfere. No, I didn’t expect anybody would remember Big Brother. I do though. I can still ask questions.

 

So, why am I so happy that all the big theatres are showing wonderful pieces of entertainment and education? Suspect don’t you think? I feel a little ashamed that I am thriving on that bribery and not missing all the things I used to waste time doing. I am occupied, completely. 

The last few days have blessed my confined soul with marvellous art works. I could not choose which gave me the most pleasure. It’s between the Royal Opera House production of the ballet version of Shakespeare’s play The Winter’s Tale. A-maz-ing. 

am not doing a review, in any way, because I am still at the stage where images from it are still flashing through my Tardis like imagination and that has plenty of room for the ROH stage and full orchestra the whole body of the theatre. It was beautiful and such a bold production. What dancing, what costumes, and the sets! Steve enjoyed that too, although if the truth be known, he really does not like modern ballet and there were some movements that spoilt it a bit for him. He liked the second act best. Steve wants constant beauty from ballet. This to my mind was; classical cross modern, but who am I to say.

Last night sadly, was not for him. From the off, in truth he didn’t see that much of it, just enough to keep track of where the story was going. It was the National Theatre’s production of Frankenstein. I suspect that he set up his defences before it even started, since I had told him that Benedict Cumberbatch and Johnny Lee Miller had alternated playing the lead parts of the monster and his scientist creator Victor Frankenstein. He muttered something about a pair of clever clogs indulging themselves in a showing off competition. So you see, he had made his mind up already. Me; I am still a child, a big kid, ready for a story to be told at bedtime that will set my mind free to fly wherever it is called. Fly it did from the first moment to the very last second. Completely mesmerized and drawn into another world.

Again, astonishing that somebody ever had the first thought enter their mind, to retell this very old story in an entirely different way. I loved everything about it from beginning to end. The set was brilliant and the explosive lighting, not to mention Benedict Cumberbatch as the monster. I will leave him out of my comments because we expect genius from him and mostly we get it. He is an unusual looking man in the first place, and that, I feel, has been like a tool for him to build with, like a musical instrument that can change the interpretation according to composer and the conductor. The audience at the National agreed with me and not my husband by the way, they loved it every bit as much I me.   

Finally, crossing my fingers as I say this, but this time has brought me to a late peak of fitness that is quite maddening since I don’t have any freaking events that have not been cancelled or postponed, left to use my fitness in. This morning we did about an hour of Qigong, new to us, but which we are both really loving.

Then just short of an hour with the New York City Ballet workout before an extra hour on the turbo trainer. After a bath I did a little bit of gardening; tidying mostly and a bit of seed sowing in the long tubs. I used to garden a lot years ago but don’t do anything like as much these days. My husband has taken to timing me whilst I am out in the garden, so that I don’t overdo it he tells me, but what he means is so that I do not damage myself making my back ache, since that would interfere with my sports training.

Weekend Longer Run and Family Anniversary

Weekend Longer Run and Family Anniversary

The pre dawn start to our run day on alternate days continues. Today we had planned to take a longer run and still wanted to avoid other people if we possible could. Having said that though it seems to me that most people have got the idea in their heads that it is right and proper in the circumstances, to move well out of the advised range when passing others, even when out in the woods. It has to be said that the woodlands are deadly quiet just after 5am in the morning. Glorious.

The route we had decided on was almost entirely within the woods, the start is over a purpose made, narrow cinder track, used by the estate farm vehicles. It is also used by runner’s mountain bikers and local dog walkers, though hardy any at our choice of outing time, and that is the idea.

We ran for two miles before turning off on a corner, and on to a muddy track. The canopy of bright green leaves has been thickening of the past few weeks and the floor of the woods has been performing a progression of prettiness, starting with the Primroses, then the dainty white Wood Anemones that precede the glory of the Bluebells, that are in fact fading now. .Dead White Nettle and Archangel have all shown their faces. Now the strong arm plants are bullying their way in, to fill out the ground space with fern and brambles.

My daughter Jacqueline and her husband Martin. Today is their 11th anniversary

I have always loved wild flowers and flowers in general, having had my childhood lessons from my mother who came from a family of sisters all names after their mothers favourite flowers; Lily, Rose, Violet, Nellie-May, Gladys Ivy, and Betty-Pansy. There was a four-penny bus ride for us to get into the woods from our home in Worthing. Mum would carry a big bottle of squash and paste sandwiches for our picnic. A splendid treat for us whenever my brother and I were taken.

After a few slightly off days last week, I was full of the joys of our early-morning-lock-down-run-ration today and felt that I was running well. We ran through to Patching, looping around the church there were Steve and I had our wedding blessed forty one years ago, when we lived in the village. From the top of the hill there we could clearly see the Rampion Wind Farm. We thought it an oddity of nature since it was a dull day and yet there it was sails and towers, miles away in the English Channel. 

This is Steve with the ear to ear grin at the start of Ironman Austria a few years ago.

 

Passing back along the muddy paths through the daily darkening woods the famous poem by my favourite poet Robert Frost came to mind with its closing line that I had spoken to Steve for the millionth time whilst out training;

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

This is a great shot of 'Saint' Martin  as we have been calling him of late. He has earned the title as far as we are concerned, no question.
Taken by Jacqueline Rackham Photography.

Once we got home, we did and hour and ten minutes of Qigong, then managed to get ourselves a coffee and snack, cleaned ourselves up before our Son-In-Law Martin arrived with the first grocery delivery that we had been able to get in a while. He has kindly been braving the shopping hazard for us and didn’t even moan when we told him that we had managed to get a click and collect slot at Waitrose in Rustington on their 11^th Anniversary! It is close to their home and we are only a short drive away from them. It was a great treat to see that my daughter Jacqueline had come with him to make the delivery because even though we are but a couple of miles away, because of the lockdown we have not seen her at all. Martin has been protecting us all during this horrible time. Thankfully they have a good sized garden to get out in with their puppy Jeffery who helps with the digging in their garden. He also came to say hello this morning but all from the required social distance. Martin piles the shopping over the front wall and Steve goes out with gloves on the get it in. He then and wipes it all down before it is put away. There is no slacking on the care and precaution front.

Happy 11th Anniversary to a wonderful couple, 

Martin and Jacqueline Rackham. XX

I have never been so pale; I don’t sit and sun bathe, ever, but most summers I get a little colour from cycling and some during races of course. Being keep indoors for most of the time because of my age and inherited Asthma and skin problems, my only freedom is the early morning run on alternate days. No outdoor cycling, no swimming, no shopping, no outings, no chit-chat with friends. I am getting a lot done indoors though, so I thank heaven for small mercy’s.

Steve here with club friends, the gorgeous in every way Michelle Chittenden, and Brian Wilson at the Raw Energy Pursuits lovely local Littlehampton event Arun River Swim.

I had a dream: Time Trial

Time Trial

We’re going to do a 100 mile bike time trial.

The start was not that far away

Clapham Village Hall

a popular start point.

Steve left home early in the car………

He forgot to take me!

I really wanted to do it too;

I needed to qualify

for the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in November.

The event is also

a qualifier

for European Championships in 2021

I will be eighty two by then.

So I set off

riding the extra 5 miles

to get to the start late.

When I get arrive

they have changed the start

to another point;

Dial Post

16 miles further on

I eventually get to the start there

a couple of hours late.

There are not many,

(Well none actually)

Lady Vet riders

Of my age.

They let me start anyway.

As I get pushed off by the start marshal

I realise what I am wearing

a very nice and warm

but totally impractical for the occasion,

mohair and wool mix winter coat

Auntie Paul gave me it before she died.

It is a full length camel coloured coat

with a high Peter Pan collar.

Whilst holding the flaps of the coat

to keep them from catching in the spokes

I notice that I have,

to make matters worse

put on a pair on socks

that my daughter’s cocker spaniel Jeffrey

had eaten a few days earlier.

They are in shreds

and offer me no protection

my shoes start to give me blisters.

My husband Steve,

who is normally

my pre-event preparation slave,

has not even filled my drinks bottle.

My usual bag of M &S fruit jellies

are not on my bike

and neither,

is my normal salt supply,

In the form of Marmite Crackers.

I carry on biking

but the wind gets in my eyes…..

I have forgotten

my sun glasses.

I look for a marshal

to give my cumbersome coat to

I don't want to just leave it on the road side

because it is a top quality coat

and it will last me forever

because I only wear it for best.

I am now hours over the cut off time

but still have to get back to the finish

which is,

another fifty miles away.

It is then that I start to become

distantly conscious

from my dream

but do not actually wake.

I know at this point

that the reason

my foot and arm ache

SO much is because

I have been training really hard

every single day at this time,

trying to stay focused.

But on the other hand

I have more movement

I am starting to think

that I things will

eventually get better.

This is confusing in my dream state

because I am struggling

through a hundred mile time trial

I think that I should stop really.

Yet here I am on a long bike ride

I hope that Steve will come and pick me up

but he doesn't.

I keep pushing on,

confused now as to

why I am fighting the odds

when I should be having an easy day.

I am coming out of my dream slowly

I know that I do want to stay in shape

but cannot remember what for

my legs ache so much on this ride.

The alarm goes off at 5.00 am.

In my bleary state I am not sure

that I have not been riding my bike

all night

in Auntie Paul's coat.

It feels like I have.

In the cold light of day

I do not need this dream analyzed

I know that am old,

fighting against the odds.

It is still a worthwhile battle

In case anybody out there thinks otherwise.

Survival of the Fittest

Survival of the Fittest

Basically, I am a simple soul and it does not take much to please me. So after we had turned to the left at the finger post, roughly two miles, having seen seven pretty little deer already along the way, we made our way to the next gate. A new copse of tiny twigs has been recently planted; each wee, whispered promise of a tree, carefully supported with a stake to protect it from the ravages of the prevalent South West wind.

As we passed through the gate it was clear that the sound had disturbed a few deer grazing on our right hand side a little lower down the slope. We stopped transfixed, so that it took a second or two for Steve to recover enough sense to struggle and retrieve his phone from his back pocket for photos. As wide eyed as the herd of deer before us, we despaired realising that we were only going to catch them visually fleeing. 

A few deer per run loop is normal. A herd of deer is a once in several years minute of pleasure. A herd of deer, with three big white ones within it, was time to drop dead with joy and ascent to heaven with God’s name on your lips moment!

Everything after that was an anti climax. The weather was not anything to write home about, the wind was starting to pick up again after a still start. It was not cold and the clouds were drear rather than a photographers dream, since there was no sunshine to improve shape and form and colour.

Steve kept the phone in his hand ready to catch the next gift from Mother Nature, but settled for a few views from the ridge path, down over the farm at Lower Barpham, then made do in the end with a few snaps of me. I don’t think he is actually mean enough to have thought what it was he was asking, when he ordered me to squat down in front of some dramatically tangled Hazel fronds. Those few shots found me getting stung by the fresh young nettle leaves all over my lower legs and knees as well as my hands and arms……. The weird thing is; that I don’t find that immediate, burning and tingling sensation all that unpleasant.

I always feel that nettles stings are on a therapeutic level in a way. I am still tingling, but not a forcefully as I write now. I wonder if I built a resistance to that first pain years ago when I had broken two bones in my arm and one in my foot whilst running on holiday in Italy, and again a few of years ago when I fell off my bike and broke my wrist/hand. During both periods of recovery I deliberately stung myself on nettle plants claiming that the sting-burns were preferable to the break-pain.  Yes, a simple soul indeed.

On our return home, the second coffee of the day seemed like a good idea. Birdy had come to sit on the window sill in the kitchen as I started to rattle cups, hoping upon hope that there might be something in it for her. First, it was again necessary to extinguish half dozen ants on zone patrol over my work surface. I offered Birdy the bodies but she looked at them and then met my eyes resentfully and I swear she raised an eyebrow including a ‘You gotta be kindin’ attitude.

The Ant invasion started in the usual way with a single soldier out on a reconnaissance deployment searching for suitable food sources. By the next day there were several and then the main landing began at a time when we were out of ant killer. The time waiting for a grocery order containing the powder gave them time to gather reserves. For days we had bodies everywhere as they met our full wrath.

The main attraction came in the form of my honey stock at the tea and coffee station. This morning, when I made my short cup of coffee before leaving for our training run, they had confirmed that the battle was not yet over; on picking up the pot of Manuka honey; that goes in my first coffee of the day, several ants fell to the work top. 

I pressed them flat and then removed the lid to take a big spoonful out to put in my coffee cup, on top of the coffee and creamer already there present. It was the straw that broke the camels back when, as I stuck the spoon into the jar and as I scooped in the honey onto the spoon, that an ant disappeared into the creamed honey mix like a wild life adventurer being sucked into a jungle quicksand swamp.

My hand hovered monetarily as I told my husband what had occurred. He quickly exclaimed “Oh God yuk, chuck it away”.  I realised that I had sunk to new depths of depravity as I passed the honey and Ant mix into my cup and poured boiling water into the mix and stirred vigorously. Steve asked what I was doing and I simply said, “It’s just an Ant…. A speck, it won’t kill me”. He closed his mouth, (that had still been agape), and walked away. I followed behind him in the direction of our sitting room to sit and drink our wake up call cuppa muttering that I had seen a film about aborigines when I was in Australia, adding that they eat Ants all the time and that I once read that if Genghis Khan was out hunting and ran out of food he would just make a small cut on his horses neck and drink a little blood to survive. Steve pointed out the obvious; that I was not Genghis Khan, to which I replied, “No, but I am a something of survivor”!