One Down!

In just under three hours it'll be exactly one week since I broke my foot. The doc said it'll be six weeks on the mend, so I'm taking that as one week down, five to go. We're making progress!

Actually, have sorted out the coffee logisitics issue by buying a travel mug [more of a flask, but close enough], and scavenging a clip thing that I can hang around my neck [the sort that people hang id badges on], leaving my hands free as I carry it back to my desk across the office. Works really well, spill proof by design.

You do have to vent it though, before pouring, to allow for the expansion caused by the heat. Failure to do so results in hot coffee (or in the case of this morning, hot tea) exploding all over you, your desk, your paperwork and your dignity. Lesson learned!

Have also solved the transport problem. Found an automatic. Better still, it's got a tow hook fitted. It'll do until the foot's better, at which point I'll sell it on and recoupe what I can of the costs. Will involve some loss, but worth it for the restoration of independence I think.

Independence

I'm the first to admit, I'm a wuss. Your typical tear-jerker (of the movie variety, that is) is more than capable of turning me into a sobbing mess. Haven't seen Toy Story 3, so can't comment. But Disney's Beauty and Beast did for me years ago, in a crowded cinema, even as my then four year old daughter and her mum remained dry-eyed, untouched and vaguely embarassed on my behalf. Moulin Rouge did it for me (again) the other night, and even the death of Tiny Tim in A Christmas Carol (the Muppets' version, that is) gets me every Christmas.

But that's really about it. I'm otherwise fairly resiliant. I've taken knocks and bumps, endured the agony of repeated cracked ribs, a broken nose and even managed to fracture the fifth metatarsel in my left foot the other day all without the vaguest swelling of the tear ducts.

However, the impact of even partial imobility and the dependence it brings I really didn't reckon on.

I confess, the novelty of hopping around on crutches is beginning to now wear thin after a couple of days. My hips are complaining from bearing all my weight on one leg, and my palms are bruised stupid from carrying my body weight through each swing (definate design flaw in the crutches there I think!). However, it's the dependence on others for the silliest of things that's grinding.

Been trying to work out how to get a coffee from the kitchen to the desk in my office without actually crawling along the floor. The last attempt involved crutches in one hand and a sort of shuffle along on my good leg, a bit like walking a heavy speaker or a freezer or something. Hopping with the support of one crutch, as previously discovered, makes keeping the coffee in the cup problematic, and you can't use two crutches (requiring two hands) and still carry a mug of coffee.

So I tried the shuffle.

Slow. And ultimately doomed to a fall. Coffee everywhere, dignity washed away with it. Humorous, I guess, from the outside looking in. Vexing to a number of friends in the office who would have just fetched me the damn coffee had I just asked and instead find themselves picking me up off the floor and mopping up coffee stains.

And ultimately trivial. A foot in plaster is the impending inconvenience of what, six weeks? And only partially disabling, my independence and dignity still mostly intact. But the failure to make it back to the desk, coffee in mug, by myself pretty much put me close to tears for a moment there.

Pathetic really.

Need to get over myself.

Need to go buy a flask ....

Time Ticks By [like a bomb waiting?]

June 2008? Now it's September 2010.

Loads of sailing. Still have the Moth. The varnish lifted again after the work over the winter of 2008 but got a friend to do a proper job of it and it's been fine ever since. Missed the British Moth Nationals in 2009 due to work, competed this year though, and came 12th. Should have done much better, but there you go. Then went away for a week down in Mylor with the family.

Lots of playing with boats, had a great time despite the best efforts of the weather and a tummy bug. Could have done with two weeks instead of one, but to be fair, feels like I've been on holiday for most of August so can't complain.

Supposed to be sailing up the Severn with Dad in his Wanderer and a motley collection of other boats from Frampton on Saturday. Unfortunately, broke my foot last night sparring at karate, so jury is currently out as to whether I'll actually be able to sail.

Probably not. In which case my son will sail with his Grandad and I'll blag a ride in the rescue boat to follow them up. Big plastic bag and lots of gaffa tape should keep the plaster dry!

Counting Crows and setting sails

Brought the new Counting Crows album off of iTunes a few days ago, and only just got around to listening to it. Only really brought it out of curiocity and old loyaties, wasn't expecting much more than vague nostalgic disappointment.

How wrong I was. It's fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And I'm only on track 6 of 16 so far.

Good weekend ahead. Sailing all day tomorrow. Unfortunately not in the Moth, as I broke her centreboard on Wednesday so she's currently beached for repairs. But if there's the promised bit of half reasonable wind then the Wanderer or Lark we'll likely have to play with should be a blast. They certainly were last Saturday and the Saturday before.

And then on Sunday the band is playing at the Lion in Fishponds. That's a guaranteed high to end the weekend on :)

Go buy the Counting Crows album. Seriously.

Six Word Autobiography

Found a song. Learned to sing.

Six Word Story

Article on the Radio the other day. Hemmingway (sp?) once claimed during a conversation in a bar that you could write a whole story in six words. To prove it, he subsequently wrote:

For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.

On that premise, some American publisher of memoires has apparently set a competition for people to submit their own life stories in six words. I reckon that would make interesting reading. Which led me to wonder what would be my own? Useful thing to have I think. Cheap enough to print on your gravestone....

Definition of middle-age

...is when you ring up the guitarist in your band at 10.30pm on a Thursday night and when he eventually answers with a bleary voice he has to explain that it's got nothing to do with sex, drugs or rock'n'roll but rather that he'd decided to go to bed early because we've got a gig tomorrow.

And then it strikes you that you haven't just woken him up to discuss some amazing hook for a new song that's just stuck itself into your soul, but instead wanted to get his take on the public liability insurance that you're trying to sort out for the band :Z

What she should look like

The pictures of Atlantic all laid up in the workshop made me feel kind of sorry for her, so thought I ought to put up a photo of her as she ought to be.

Atlantic Bonus

Atlantic Bonus is a British Moth, sail number 838. She's currently laid up whilst we tend to the lifting varnish on her port side-deck. This is why she won't be sailing this weekend. Nothing to do with the cold and wet of a British January :)

hellO worlD1

Enough of the tongue-in-cheek mixing up of caps and the like. Didn't know what to write but thought it would be rude to start a blog and not bother with a first post.

So here it is.

January. Lake is empty, racing season is over and Atlantic is laid up in the workshop next door to the office. But it was blowing a hoolie (is that how you spell it?) this morning, so should have been down at the lake bothering the fisherman with Redwing. Instead, slewed of the hangover and staggered into work.

Gotta love Mondays.