1 hour cycle (gym) - Cross Train (not dress)
Saturday. The weekend. Day off. What to do? So many options in London. Exercise, gallery, Art, cinema, theatre, yoga, meeting, friends, shopping, restaurant, walk, massage + extras. Oh god the choice is overwhelming. No wonder in the old days it was easier to just go down the pub, drink heavily and talk about doing stuff.
Instead i opted for early morning meeting, coffee with a few chirpy peeps, bit of a giggle, then it was off to buy a new portable digital TV for an OAP and install in her bedroom as my good deed for the day.
Now don't get me wrong i don't mind doing it, but the traffic in the rain ate out 3 valuable ME hours, Saturday's are usually set aside for selfish, self seeking time. Which usually starts off with hardcore exercise and AA in the morning which sets up my head for the day. If i don't do active exercises early doors i usually get a bit moody. So i had to hide the searing resentment against the old girl as the traffic built up.
If she says the 19 inch TV is too big for the bedroom we may have another Tottenham Court Road hostage incident in Hounslow. Luckily it went down well and the Police were let off the siege situation. Phew.
Then it was out to lunch. A lovely long lazy affair with great grub and tons of tomato ketchup. Again, it was enjoyable, but now it was 5pm. How the f*** did that happen. And still i hadn't done my own things. Nightmare. Good job I'm so spontaneous and not regimented or selfish with my own habits.
It made me think, is the image of me I'd like to be (spontaneous, creative, go with flow, thrill seeking, lover of life) Not actually the persona i am? Am i embarrassed to be the persona i am? Am i concerned more with image and being true to myself? I mean it's not cool to like Coldplay and Escape to the Country is it? But i may have to one day face up to the fact that there is a dull suburban middle class boy wrapped up in a failed 80's pop star looking man. Anyway, who cares. It's Saturday, I'll stick to Sticky Toffee Pudding for desert.
Finally by late afternoon i got to do the gym and lose myself in exercise for a couple of hours and sweat my knackers off. I like doing this, feels like a bit of a purge from the week. I even liked it so much i ended up missing the Voice. I hope Sir Tom will forgive me. Never mind, I'll get an update from Brymoor Road later where me Mum and Nan will be watching it, though the old girl will probably be asleep.
Nan update. She is hanging in there, still doing her routine, eating the occasional Kit Kat and Apple Crumble. Her illness is aggressive and fierce, but it still hasn't spread and gripped her yet. She is sleeping more, and getting tired. Unheard of her to miss Emmerdale but she is starting to kip through that now too. But as my incredible mother reports, who has decamped to Llanelli to look after her full time says, she has an iron will and spirit for life, is harp as a button and doesn't complain. Fuck me doesn't complain?!!!
The woman has Oesophagus cancer, is 97, can barely walk much now, has lost most of her independence and has lived on her own since her husband died in 1992 for Christs Sake. And she doesn't complain. Talk about old school. Truly incredible and inspirational.
I wake up with a slight tickly cough and immediately I've got throat cancer and will bore the tits off everyone until they are sick of me whining. Nan, you're far my hardcore than me. I hold my hat.
It got me thinking of the older generation. How society kind of glosses over when they speak and thinks we know more. We are more advanced, more travelled, technologically savvy, sophisticated, worldly than those 'oldies' who have lived a sheltered life'. Not travelling outside their home town, save for a coach trip to Palma Nova in 1987. What on earth can us amazing new generation learn from them?
Well, cook fresh, make time for family and friends, don't complain, moan, walk places, talk to people, save, live within means, be humble, show love, don't feel pity, work, graft, don't sit still, don't over analyze, don't naval gaze and get the fuck on with things. Simple.
How many people are in therapy or in doctors taking anti depressants, obese, sharing feelings, on welfare, looking for quick fix, tablet to make me feel better, short cuts, quick wins financially, loans, credit cards, takeaways, getting fucked up, binging, overspending, material things, status, 'stuff', gadgets. Are we really that advanced.
She is 97 and doesn't moan. I am 39 and if i don't check myself would be Olympic standard moaner. Anything i can learn there?
My moral of the day. I have 2 ears and one mouth for a reason. Listen to learn and learn to listen. The only way to acquire knowledge and wisdom. The shocking revelation today. The great Nick doesn't have all the answers and depressingly is not God. Bugger
xx
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