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Get Knotted

Ok, ok, I’m not as young as I used to be although try telling that to my brain as I attempt to do silly young things with my body.

On Saturday we went for another six mile hike around some rough terrain in the name of fun, a pleasant ramble although I don’t use that word often as rambling and ramblers conjures up images of sensible trousers tucked into heavily knitted socks and beards, oh, and a penchant to enjoy folk music, personally I’d sooner staple my ears to my knees but I guess each to their own.

The walk was fun, even though we managed to get a tad lost and decided to climb a near vertical peak to get us back on track, don’t worry, Jayne was fine once she had stopped shaking. Anyway, towards the end of the walk we pass by a cricket pitch with some rather killjoy signs on them ‘No ball games, no bicycles, no dogs, no walking, no children and obviously no smiles either, a little further on though was a small wood. A small track led in and through it, a very nice stroll in the burgeoning sunshine and pretty soon spirits were high and thoughts turned to snowdrop and squirrel spotting in the undergrowth.

Then I saw it.

In the distance a shaft of light had fallen upon an object beckoning me towards it. ‘A rope swing!’ I yelled at Jayne in excitement as she lent away severely deafened. Like some giddy goat I quicken my pace and galloped over to it. ‘I hope your not going to swing on that.’ said Jayne eyeing the blue bit of rope and chunky stick suspiciously as it hung in front of us at eye height.

‘Just a little, dear, you know a quick swing, it’ll be fun’ I said.

The rope looked well secured, it was hung from a large branch over a small drop of maybe a few feet, a sturdy piece of wood made a handle and the floor underneath looked a little spongy, ideal for catching falling artists.

Now, a piece of advice, if you are of advancing years and you come across such a piece of countryside equipment remember to keep yourself in check, remind yourself that you are not indeed as flexible or bendable as you once were and never, ever rush into things shouting ‘watch this!’

In hindsight the run up was a tad foolish but I managed to grab the handle well enough before I slipped and momentum took over. As I swung out the slip had caused me to launch with a jolt, a jolt so hard it almost dislocated my testicles and ripped my nipples from my chest. The pain was astonishing as my arms took the full weight of my body and a heavy backpack. ‘Wow!’ I thought as stars danced around my blurred vision, ‘Yikes!’ I added as I realised the ground was a little further away than I wanted it to be, ‘Ooof!’ I said as I swung back so the tips of my toes hit the ground first and bent my feet back, ‘Shhhhhiiiii…..!!!’ I shouted as my arms fell off, my knees hit the floor whilst my heels buried themselves into my rectum and I flip flapped onto my face at Jaynes feet.

‘Nice, what do you want to do for your next trick? There’s a few stones over there if you want to smash them into your ears, or maybe you would like to throw yourself off the nearest stone wall as an encore.’

‘Yurble, durble.’ I replied from my twisted floor position.

So that’s why there’s a smiling picture of a young me with a girls haircut on today’s blog, to remind me that I am indeed ancient and crotchety and not the young supple bendy person in my head. It’s also there to remind me that I have indeed known suffering and pain before through overestimating the fun factor of something, after all the picture was taken in Blackpool.


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