25 May 2004
Dear Body and Soul,
Yes, well, I have been incredibly slack in the old Fitness and Health department. And for this I humbly beg your forgiveness. You may not have heard but it was my misfortune, two weeks ago, to lose both my hands in a freak surfing accident. They were lopped off by the propeller of a passing schooner and I was only able to find one of them, as I was busy fending off the sharks keen on the scent of my blood, with my bleeding stumps. Later, the hand came alive and attempted to flood Bude and rape a tractor so I destroyed it. That’s right, who’s laughing now.
Excuses pushed rather rapidly to one side, how the devil are you? Well, I know that you are not awfully well. I can tell by the burgeoning size of your lovehandles and your poor performance on the basketball court on Saturday. An aerobic survival period of six and a half minutes is not adequate. You are also in a very strange mood. You have drunk too much over the last few days and your gut seems to be expressing its displeasure by rumbling and aching slightly. At least, I hope it is down to the alcohol as I cooked a meal on Saturday for friends and while they are all alive and prospering, you are in mild moments of agony. Maybe it’s because I had to cook vegetarian as they are all veggie-ish eaters, and your meat eating stomach hasn’t been able to handle the vitamin overdose. Who knows? Who cares? I do a little bit.
So, been for many swims now. I almost drowned during the last one. 20 minutes of swimming out deep to where the surfers where (as the group I was with were all surfers and must have thought I was particularly hard, which, lets face it, is reason enough to experience the panic of near and untimely death) I started heading back in as I could feel my limbs groaning slightly, got caught in a bastard of a rip and had to fight against it for five minutes, going nowhere fast, until I finally beat it and stumbled ashore. I still managed a handstand or three. At one point whilst I was struggling I was considering waving to the surfers for immediate assistance and it was a good thing I didn’t because, apparently, they weren’t looking. Zerren and a mate almost got plastered onto the rocks. It was lush though. Love the sea, me.
Sometimes I feel that my life path needs a major fucking injection of government money to finance the demolition of the present leafy, winding road to build a 47-lane mega freeway. Other times I wouldn’t have it any other way. Tis trouble to be so fickle methinks.
Right, my sandwich is ready. Best busta'move. Drive safely muppet head.