hot blokes and scissor-kicks and the bossanova

Today, I woke up to the sound of pouring rain. Well, the sound of howling wind and something battering the windows as if it was trying to get in, really. Oh dear god, this does not bode well for today’s plans. Or, for the window-frames! Still, at least that was me up early for a workout and the housework. In the midst of which, something was battering the door as if it wanted in. It turned out to be the postie, and ooh look, some books have shown up. Wahey, on with the- NO! Not even ‘just one little page’. Work!

I put them all in a different room, where I would not be tempted to read them, managed to start the maths at half nine… and I see the schedule is slipping already. But I got a couple of hours of revision under my belt.

And then it was time to go into town – an action I try to avoid like the very plague on Saturdays, but with this grading coming up, I really need to attend every training session I can, and I see on Saturdays we now have… three hours of fightclub. Groan. And four miles of horizontal rain between me and there, too. I took everything soakable out of the rucksack, double-bagged my trainers, hauled the old leathers out of the wardrobe and set off, feeling rather intrepid. The rain was through the seams before I’d got to LIDL. And after an hour of that, I had half an hour of waiting in a frigid stairwell that soaked the cold right into my bones. Ha, old age, this is how you creep up on me?

It was actually a relief to get started – although that did not last long. There weren’t many of us in, but I got paired with a nice guy I vaguely know, and we fought for two hours. To Linkin Park, to System of a Down, and to some Elvis/ Fanfare for the Common Man mash-ups that kept putting me off. However, aside from that, it went very well – we took turns practising thai-boxing kicks on each other to a rather pleasing bossanova mix, and learned a new kind of scissor-kick take-down, at which we did dead good, even the guru said so. And I have to confess, despite being already knackered, it was awesome, rolling around with a hot* bloke taking turns to be all, Wow, there really IS a pressure-point in the back of your calf that’ll induce a thigh-cramp! Hee! OW! Hee, do it again!

*(Married. They’re all married. It’s celibacy heaven! Non-sexual physical contact for the win.)

Eventually, he went to the cinema, so I took the opportunity to slope off as well. Hell, I got four more miles before home and these Sums will not do themselves! Not being able to bear the thought of trying to peel myself back into still-sopping leathers, I walked home in the fight trousers and thus got even more drenched than I had on the way in. Hmm, clearly the leathers were better than I thought. And the weather is worse – there’s a weir in the river about three feet high – or there was; it’s been and vanished. At least my mp3 player survived the driving deluge – without tunes, I woulda sat down in a doorway and never moved again. Right. Washing machine on, shower, jammies, the rest of the pizza, phone me mother, bed.

Of course, I see from the list that a couple more hours Sums and some admin were in the pipeline for tonight, but when I turned the laptop on, the screen-glare made me wince immediately. At least, I’m telling myself it was the screen-glare, not something akin to electroshock aversion. Perhaps, a wee kip.

And then, I committed the ultimate in acts of hubris by believing (I know not why) that I could just have a wee read of the first chapter of Gardens of the Moon. Yeah. One in the morning found me still hard at it, the coffee Baileys barely touched. So much for the slog!

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About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
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