Routine. It’s possibly the one thing that, in this Covid ravaged world we live in, keeps us (sort of) sane.
Of course, as a jobless, feckless drain on this nation’s economy, there’s that much less in the way of routine to keep your friendly neighbourhood blogger from wearing his pants on his head and saying ‘wibble’ a lot (if you catch the ref, I like you. I really do).
Which is why I’m very thankful for our dog.
The Old Routine
Not that Bonnie, (the pooch in question), keeps my diary in order or maintains my to-do list. No, I think, on balance, a six-year-old half-Springer Spaniel, half-Labrador hybrid, would be a less than ideal candidate for the role of personal secretary.
Where she does come in useful, however, is in her constant need for exercise.
And this is where the routine comes in. Every morning, I have taken to getting up (which, let’s face it, could be a massive mistake all on its own) and taking the hound out for a pre-breakfast walkie (or is ti vice-versa? We;ve never quite settled that.
Walk It off
We cover quite some distance on these early morn ambles, do Bonnie and I, taking in what I reckon must be at least a mile and a half, if not two mile, route. Of late, I’ve taken to including a couple of hills into the mix, too. After all, my waist-line isn’t getting any more waif-like these days, and, as the Lab side of bonnie means she will at least try to eat anything not nailed down, the inclines come in useful to keep the weight off both our respective love-handles. (it is important that the incline is an upward one. Downhill, although more fun, tends to be a lot less effective).
And that, for me, lends shape to the morning. It’s the first thing I do when I wake. Then it’s home, breakfast, feed the aforementioned Springador (the other name for the breed is Labradinger, but I prefer the bullfighter sounding variant. Ole!), our three cats, and the leisurely consumption of a cafetiere of strong, black coffee.
Then, after the usual ablutions, the day can start.
It's A Snow From Me
Of course, winter is coming and foul of all types are starting to get fat-shamed, so in the next few months that morning ritual may have to be sacrificed every now and then due to adverse conditions.
Cold, I can deal with, and I don’t mind the odd spot of rain, anything heavier than that, however, and I end up with strangely specifically soaked through trousers (it’s the lap, the area between hip and knee; and only on the front of the trouser too. You try explaining that). If we get even the first flurry of snow, then you can straight up forget it. The white stuff is and always will remain my keenest enemy and I’m neither stupid nor brave enough to even try to navigate my way through it.
All of which will disrupt my days immensely. As is, I’ve given to ‘blipping’ the dog walking on a Wednesday due to it being bin day, a day when the streets which surround us are transformed into an assault-course of randomly discarded plastic containers (I’ve tried beating the bin-men to the punch, but that doesn’t help, and neither does leaving the walking until later in the day, because people are at work, and the bins stay where they are). Add in the omnipresent half-parked-on-the-pavement cars and it makes a 40-minute walk akin to a trek from SAS: Are You Tough Enough?
Rolling, Rolling, Rolling
Luckily, as much as Bonnie loves her walkies, she is also more than happy laying next to her dad and chewing on a rawhide ring, rousing only every now and then to bark at a cat that’s dared to sneeze on the other side of the road, three streets down, in a land far, far away (and, of course, anyone who deigns to pass within a half-mile of the house, who is most definitely a home invader who needs to be seen off).
It's A Snow From Me
Of course, winter is coming and foul of all types are starting to get fat-shamed, so in the next few months that morning ritual may have to be sacrificed every now and then due to adverse conditions.
Cold, I can deal with, and I don’t mind the odd spot of rain, anything heavier than that, however, and I end up with strangely specifically soaked through trousers (it’s the lap, the area between hip and knee; and only on the front of the trouser too. You try explaining that). If we get even the first flurry of snow, then you can straight up forget it. The white stuff is and always will remain my keenest enemy and I’m neither stupid nor brave enough to even try to navigate my way through it.
All of which will disrupt my days immensely. As is, I’ve given to ‘blipping’ the dog walking on a Wednesday due to it being bin day, a day when the streets which surround us are transformed into an assault-course of randomly discarded plastic containers (I’ve tried beating the bin-men to the punch, but that doesn’t help, and neither does leaving the walking until later in the day, because people are at work, and the bins stay where they are). Add in the omnipresent half-parked-on-the-pavement cars and it makes a 40-minute walk akin to a trek from SAS: Are You Tough Enough?
Rolling, Rolling, Rolling
Luckily, as much as Bonnie loves her walkies, she is also more than happy laying next to her dad and chewing on a rawhide ring, rousing only every now and then to bark at a cat that’s dared to sneeze on the other side of the road, three streets down, in a land far, far away (and, of course, anyone who deigns to pass within a half-mile of the house, who is most definitely a home invader who needs to be seen off).
No, I fear it is yours truly who will feel the brunt of the coming walkie-less winter. I may have to turn to the morning news, which is never a good thing, and the day will just have less and less shape, even as my stomach develops more and more (round is a shape, you know). Exercise will become less and less easy, and Bonnie and I might actually have to start watching what we eat before next years walkies become rollies (well, yes, they sort of already are, but you know what I mean).
Yes, i guess it’s time to rein it in, and start counting those calories…
…After Xmas.
Until next week.
Yes, i guess it’s time to rein it in, and start counting those calories…
…After Xmas.
Until next week.
Like to read some of my creative work? Two of my short stories can be found in the anthologies below!
No comments:
Post a Comment