Day 13 (30 March): Being appealing
As I previously mentioned, I have finished my wine and even drunk the left over Christmas glühwein. So before the aftershave begins to appeal I am keeping myself busy writing to you again.
And what passes for thought in my world seems today to have morphed into two appeals.
Appeal number 1: Can we be of some assistance?
I mused last night while ironing Alfie that there could be a double benefit to these ravings. We get to share a smile in troubled times but beyond that it might be possible to give a hand to those who really need one. Not literally of course.
I propose that, if and when 500 or more people subscribe to this blog, I try to monetise it to the tune of 50 cents per day and per blog entry and that between us we figure out who should receive the money and what it should be spent on - masks, gloves, sanitiser and respirators spring to mind as possible examples.
So, if you enjoy popping in here each day (I hope you are not doing it just because you are nice - but I'll take what I can get) please subscribe and get your friends to subscribe as well. You can do this at the bottom of the homepage. I will come back to this from time to time and keep you informed as (if!) the number of subscribers climbs higher. On my side, I have to work on getting the blog on search engines by using catchy key words. I would use “wife-swapping” but I’m afraid to be swamped by offers of spouses in exchange for my canned lentils. That was a joke Nick. Although...
Back to the blog face.
Appeal Number 2: Be careful
I just came in from my daily run. No weights or swimming any more with the gym being closed. Now I’m not a great runner. I’m more of a fast waddler. But I waddle regularly over decent distances. I now see swathes of people I have never seen before - out there in baggy flannel sweat pants, brand new running shoes, outsize headphones and considerable discomfort.
Hectolitres of sweat pouring off the beetroot heads and soaking torsos of people who seem surprised to be sweating. If a woman is watching , the men are too proud to stop and walk. So I beg you ladies, out of your common humanity, if you see a newbie male waddler, look the other way. The danger is obvious. If one of them has a heart attack I might trip over him tomorrow.
There is worse. I have a couple of Barcalounger Recliner buddies - think Joey and Chandler in Friends - who, having read my Day 5 blog , have Amazoned (my verb!) high-tech jump ropes. You know; the kind that can count the revolutions from 1 through 7.
Do they have any idea how much jumping rope takes out of you?
Don’t sweat this one - the answer is clearly ’No’.
I tried to talk them out of it but it was like water off a duck’s pakamac - there are more animals in this blog than in Chester zoo. Boxers get into the ring just to get away from the skipping!
Should any of you be harbouring any doubts as to how hard it is, borrow a rope and a bucket and skip for 15 minutes to “Eye of the Tiger”. You’ll appreciate having the bucket, if not so much seeing those lentils again.
So be careful. We have all this time on our hands but there is no point running from one danger to another.
A reader, confused by the name Alfie, has asked if she is a bitch.
I have to admit she can be. She hasn’t spoken to me all day.
Take good care of each other!