THE DANGEROUS KITCHEN!

After the exertions of yesterday I awoke feeling only slightly chafed and started to wonder - if I felt this good after a fifteen mile walk, how would I feel if I tried to walk twenty?



This is when I realised that although I may be slightly sore in the Calvins department, I was obviously suffering from more than a touch of the sun.

This is probably how all mega-endurance sports and feats occur. Either someone tries something like parachuting and isn't killed immediately and so keeps on doing it in ever more dangerous ways until they go for base jumping and are deaded, or it's drunken macho posturing of the "bet I could run a marathon faster than you" type which ends with purple faced middle-aged men dressed as waiters and penguins expiring after ten miles.



I haven't walked that distance for a couple of years, and so was surprised how good I felt. This may be due to regular gym attendance, which I know is doing me good even though I don't really enjoy it.

So maybe I'll shelve the idea of a twenty mile walk, and see if I can undertake another fifteen mile-r over the next few weeks instead.

One concern over the extra distance would not be soreness or blisters, nor fatigue. It would be my fingers. I noticed as I trudged that blood collected in them as I was only swinging them down by my sides, hence their pudginess. If I tried a longer walk they may suddenly explode, nixing any chance of violin lessons in the future.



So apart from a gym visit I decided to stay in the flat, work my way through a pile of CD, tidy up and do my washing.



I am generally tidy in the kitchen and need to be as it is very small. So small I only have a washer/drier. Normally I only use the washer bit, and dry stuff by hanging up the wet things in the bathroom.

As I was doing the sheets and duvet cover I needed to fire up the drier side of the machine. It is simple to operate, so as I left for the gym why was the now clean duvet washing itself again?



I've put it back in to dry. I hope it's cooked to perfection as my friend Susan The Finance (don't hate her she's not a banker) and I are off out to the Royal Albert Hall to see Carrie Underwood.



Oh, and another thing. Susan may be involved in financial planning, but we are talking real lives here. In other words planning at a considerably lower level than Gary Barlow and Jimmy Carr!