January Begins

11 Jan

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Returning to the UK on New Year’s Eve meant I only experienced the icy remnants of the Boxing Day snowfall. I was glad to see it go as the weather turned milder. “Milder” I say. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t hugging the radiator with a passion Neil can only dream about. Maybe I could have ventured out in the car but turning the ignition key merely produced a groan. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Now I know there are many women who aren’t phased by engines, just as there are many who could whip up a pair of curtains on a sewing machine, frequently the same woman. I am not that woman. Quite frankly I flatter myself that I’d have better success restarting a human heart than I would a car battery. Thankfully, I count myself very fortunate to have a son who produces a battery charger, reads the instructions and says “It’s not rocket science”. OK, so sparks flew at one point and I worried I might have to quit bragging about what abilities I might have. The car started. He also fixed the toilet.

The nearest I got to a resolution this year was to keep up some exercise while I was at home and away from the gym facilities I’d got used to. Alex has a cross trainer that I’ve always considered something of a torture device. But needs must. With it set at the lowest resistance possible, I had a go. At the best of times this is an activity that should not only be done with the curtains drawn but also with the lights turned off to avoid any possibility of a silhouette traumatising the neighbours. It was abandoned when the cold I must have picked up on the flight developed. Limbs flapping about is one thing, blowing snot bubbles down the nose while struggling to breath is quite another. So much for resolutions.

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