almost witty

In a meagre attempt to get fit, I have signed up to play football in a work-based five-a-side team.

Thus every Tuesday, you’ll be seeing me attempting to play football in a local park that faces the sea. This mostly involves:

- running around after the ball for the first five minutes, attempting to tackle players
- running out of breath after the first five minutes, and starting to wheeze
- mostly spending the next eighty minutes in a muted attempt to run after the ball and tackle players.

Still, I’m getting better. When I first started four weeks ago, I was wheezing after the first minute of play - and I have improved my stamina ever since. Although I usually do come home with my legs and thighs whining - and this has gotten worse today after yesterday’s five-a-side which was played in the pouring rain. The rain came down so hard I gave up trying to wipe my specs - especially since an ill-advised tackle meant the ball crashed into my face and knocked them off anyhow.

Ball contact is fortunately kept to a minimum, as the last time one of my team-mates passed me the ball, I managed to trip over it and fall helplessly to the ground. And you can forget about trying to score goals.

It is - oddly for me - an enjoyable experience “playing” football. I’m usually tired and weary going into the pitch, and tired and energetic heading out of the pitch. At least until I can slump on the sofa where I’ll try not to move for the next three hours waiting for my legs to slowly start wailing.

The other night though, I started daydreaming about playing Sim City 4 - complete with jazz music soundtrack - while in goal.

I don’t think it’s actually done my body any good playing football in terms of hard numbers - but I’m starting to see a little improvement in the waistline. Now if only it could aid my memory and attention-keeping skills!

Thanks to a random link I stumbled across, I’ve just spent the last fifteen minutes giving into my inner fascination with apocalyptic fiction and browsing through Wikipedia’s rather substantial list of post-apocalyptic fiction, reminding me of the UK’s relatively substantial contribution to the genre - The War Game, Threads, Day of the Triffids, 28 Days Later and culminating in World War Z, a gripping account of the Zombie World War.

Right now, I feel rather ill, nauseous and sick right now (bit like radiation poisoning, I’d imagine). Which is amazing given that with the notable exception of 28 Days Later and Day of the Triffids, I’ve never actually had the courage to sit through the rest of the above. But I will have to resolve to buy World War Z, not least because the British government apparently starts its fight back against the zombies from Conwy, less than a mile away. So at least I have somewhere to run to when the zombie hordes invade.

Any suggestions on how I can wash my brains out? Because I don’t want to feel like this for the rest of the day!

My spacious one-bed flat in Shepherds Bush will soon be up for rent to a lucky individual or couple, so I thought it was high time that I arranged for a wee bit of maintenance on the place.

My sister (the current tenant) has been reporting that the shower doesn’t work any more, so I told her to sort out a plumber who’d sort the problem out.

For a non-CORGI plumber, in London, to come out and change the tap, shower connection wire and the shower head, the price comes to a grand total of £339 for five hours of work. I could have bought a Playstation 3 for that money!!!

Londoners, does that sound about right for a plumber?

Oh, and if you need to rent a spacious one-bed flat in Shepherds Bush, why not take a look at my flat?

Hot mainly because, well, it’s hot. Damn hot. Too damn hot. Right now it’s 23 C / 73 F outside, and it was even hotter and sunnier this weekend. And it’s not just mad dogs and Englishmen who stay out in the sun - for two consecutive weekend afternoons, we were out in the sun either in a pub garden or in our garden attempting a barbecue. Followed by a couple of hours indoors as we tried to rest our weary heads and fight a sun-induced headache. Thank Gawd for ice cubes. Now I see why Americans tend to drink everything with ice cubes in them.

Cool because according to this music chart using data from CBS/last.fm, my music tastes are only 24% mainstream, which must mean 76% cool. This does rather surprise me because I’d always assumed my music tastes were relatively mainstream and pedestrian - while not going to the extremes of buying Boyzone CDs though, I suppose.

Having said that, Kylie Minogue doesn’t exist according to the above chart, so perhaps there’s some work to do on it yet…

Me in a kilt, and Rhian in a dress

At the weekend, I was honoured (and somewhat surprised) to be an usher at my schoolmate’s humanistic wedding in Edinburgh. Which necessitated the hiring and wearing of a kilt. Specifically, one with a “grey thistle doo” tartan, which has become my current gibberish phrase of the week.

Once the patient lady in the hireshop had told me how it all fits and hangs together, it made sense. The waistcoat (thankfully) managed to corset me into a straight position and hide the worst of 33 years of eating.

The kilt did feel rather weird, in the sense that it felt like I was wearing nothing at all below the waist. But I’m reliable told I looked good in it, and it also felt quite comfortable - especially standing on a warm summers’ day. I tend to overheat and sweat at weddings, and previous attempts to wear cream linen suits led to me being described as a colonial gentleman - not the best phrase attached to my appearance.

Top tip - if you’re going to wear pants and not be a true Scotsman, wear some tight ones. I kept having to be rather undignified and pull up my pants at every available opportunity. But then if you don’t wear pants, how on earth do you sit down without creating skid marks on the chairs you sit on ?!

The wedding went off without a hitch despite my being an usher, and the bride looked absolutely gorgeous with a smile that could probably be seen on the moon. Despite my worries about what being an usher involved, all I had to do was tell people where to sit, and chase after them for photographs. I even got a lovely vase for my troubles. And it was good to catch up with my schoolfriends and their families. I think I’ve even introduced some of them to Facebook…

Other random things about Edinburgh:

• Good gosh, when it rains, it pours. I got absolutely soaked at the bus stop. But when the sun shines, it’s glorious.
• I thought the Scottish Parliament (which sat opposite the wedding venue) was literally a bunch of flats. Shame, really. At least the Senedd looks like an imposing government building that’s been designed.
• Scottish people are incredibly friendly. Just the right side of friendly. Even when inviting you into a *crowded* pub full of people singing Queen songs.
• The Scottish accent does wonderful things. Even an argument between a chav couple somehow becomes melodic and tuneful.
• Haggis. Dear sweet gorgeous scrumptious haggis.
• Edinburgh is a fabulous city. Love it. Maybe even more than London.
• No matter how much I try to drink, I can’t seem to get drunk any more. No idea if this is a good or a bad thing.