Friday, 24 May 2013

Spring has yet to, er, spring

There’s nothing like some rubbish weather for making you feel your age

I was alright for the first three scaffold ladders yesterday, despite the wind, rain and low temperature. For the next five I pulled the sleeves of my fleece down over my hands. Scaffolders haven’t come up with heated ladder rungs, yet. After the roof I went back to the top floor, did some undignified and inelegant clambering, and took the lift down.


The climate change deniers…

…who should be banged up in jail with the holocaust deniers, should monitor the weather reports for the number of times they hear the words:

“…since records began…

And:

“…since (insert year, in the distant past)…”

We’re in the coldest Spring (I remember that bit) since the stone age (actually I think it was in the seventies but I wasn’t really paying attention, so rather than guess, I made something up).


A vicious spiral

The cold means taking more stuff to cricket. Taking the definition of cricket as not a sport, more organised loafing, we should by now be loafing about in shirts and whites. Instead, I’m taking a couple of undershirts (swapping to a dry one at half time tea), shirt, sleeveless jumper, and jumper. This extra load, on top of the other stuff, means more carbon footprint due to the increased weight in the cars, exacerbating the problem that is the root cause.


That other stuff in the kit bag

My baggage has increased with age. Not so long ago, it seems, it was a pair of boots, laces tied, hanging over the handlebars of my pushbike. Then shinpads became compulsory, then…then…and then…

…now I’m at the age where when the annual tidy up takes place (tip bag upside down, carefully replace half the stuff in a sensible, rational, neat and tidy fashion, have a “life’s too short for this” (actually a FTS[1]) moment, stuff the rest in any old how) it becomes clear just how much ‘sports kit’ actually is ‘medical supplies’.

I’m not yet as bad as a veteran football player we nicknamed Robocop.





[1] I’ve promised BLISS no swearing. Well, no swearing on here, obviously. Google. Urban Dictionary. Answer number two.

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