She’s there every morning, glaring down at me, when I open my eyes.
“If you’re going nowhere, neither is that extra chin”, she seems to say. “I have limits, you know. If we’re to ever get any closer, you should be out there, not hitting the snooze button repeatedly!”
She’s right, of course, my ideal dress size. I breached her
boundaries a long time ago and won’t be fitting back in any time soon, unless I get out there and move. Every single day.
“And cut out the champagne while you’re at it, lardarse.”
By my calculations, transforming Matilda’s reproach into rapprochement is about 720 km away.
The Matilda Dress
If I were a voodoo-hoodoo, my more annoying clients might experience the mysterious onset of a headache around 7:30 on a certain week night.
“Do you know why people like violence? It is because it feels good.”
Alan Turing in The Imitation Game
But the only violence I like is the kind that doesn’t hurt anything.
Chu-daiko and Shime-daiko
Taiko is perfect. Thus far, we’ve learnt the basics of the Miyake and Yatai-bayashi rhythms, fantastic workouts for the body, brain and voice.
Life is health, Life through the lens | Tagged culture, exercise, fitness, health, humor, humour, leisure, music, sport, Taiko
Have had a foot injury since the end of November
so am in hope that I will be back in my golf shoes (actually, any normal shoes would be good)
and walking the golf course again in the not-too-distant future
It’s her little joke –
every round is stroke –
the way she hits that ball
you wouldn’t know she’s had two
bionic man, quadruple
by-passed, defibrillated, has me
at 80, his game’s
got more heart
then, on the 13th,
confides myeloma’s no
handicap to chipping
away at the children’s
this stupid game
but it ain’t no Sunday
Home, Life through the pen | Tagged golf, health, inspiration, life, poetry, resilience, role models, sports, the game of life, writing
was it the 500,000th
that threw the switch,
your light flickering?
i see you bathed in darkness,
no light, no air,
just the rasping
Was the timer on
you were born?
i don’t know…
Maybe the 500,001st
was the nth
lights-out for a pulse
If Leibniz were alive, i would
but we wouldn’t
share a smoke
Home, Life through the pen | Tagged cancer, dad, death, epigenetics, family, health, poetry, science, The Ghost in Your Genes, writing
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