Good & Bad

I seriously ache. This weekend I’ve been doing more exercise than usual. Which means I’ve actually been doing some exercise. And now it feels like someone has crept into the flat and beaten me with a stick while I was sleeping.

Luckily today has been a typically miserable English Bank Holiday with low cloud and near continual rain being blown across the city. Anyone venturing out has done so with perpetual rain-lashed scowls slapped across their faces. To it seemed best to stay inside, and restrict my movements because... ouch!

The past couple of days the weights have been rolled out, the exercise mat spread across the parquet flooring at various intervals during the days, and even the TBR2i dusted down to induce it’s own healthy brand of torture. The reason for the activity is twofold, but it all came from Friday afternoon and the scheduled birthday drinks for two members of the usual drinking circle, most of whom I hadn’t seen since before Christmas.

It’s been on odd six months since we were last together. Our friend H is still the same, which is a stroke of luck because, as Work Buddy always says, everyone should have a friend like H. The first Birthday Boy, the writer pal I bumped into a couple weeks back, was still healthier and more relaxed with himself. Maybe it was because he was still off the beer, sticking to spirits instead.

By doing this he set the tone of the afternoon, allowing everyone to have a relaxing time with sensible conversation for once. Of course only the first half of the party was there. The second Birthday Boy was yet to arrive with his coterie, it was usually him and his close friends who would get themselves bladdered in record time.

The last six months with the second Birthday Boy have been interesting. He’s always been a bit of a lunk but we’ve tolerated him over the years, even when he’s ballsed up things we were trying to get done. Except this year he went too far, not understanding that big boys games means big boys rules. Both Work Buddy and I have simply had enough.

Instead of joining us in the pub, Work Buddy was in Barcelona, on the eve of playing a gig there. Before he lit out we discussed how I should handle this upcoming situation. It worked out pretty much to plan. When the second Birthday Boy eventually blundered into the pub, just as expected his first remark to me immediately set my teeth on edge. I put an arm around his shoulder and very quietly and calmly told him to keep the fuck away from me.

After that everything was just fine. The first Birthday Boy had invited along the agent who is a mutual friend of ours. The agent brought a friend of hers – a woman who is certainly making the most out of life, previously sojourning in French Quebec and then Tibet. Strangely, as we compared lives, she found me inspiring. Hopefully it wasn’t the wine talking.

So why the exercise? At one point on Friday afternoon I had to run for a bus – or rather run the length of a bus before it pulled away from the stop. By the time I stumbled aboard it felt like my chest was going to explode. That’s not good.

Also, when the agent’s friend returns from a trip to Italy she wants to teach me yoga. Having checked out the likes of the Standing Bow Pulling Pose, Balancing Stick Pose, and Full Locust Pose, I figure I need to at least get my joints and limbs flexible and supple. Otherwise I’m going to end up in traction.