This morning a gym class, along with overseeing the replacement of a toilet flush mechanism at my marital home, held priority over chronicling this essay. Consequently, it was 2.30pm before my posterior parked itself on a cafe shop chair to pen these reflexions decalees.
I’m not overly fazed by this delay, experience indicates yours truly ordinarily requires only around two hours to attain my daily goal of the 500 word minimum I set myself. With over nine hours of the day remaining, I’m comfortable Thursday’s blogging objective will be met.
Even if I’d not found time to write a blog today, while the flush mechanisms replacement occurred I sneaked an hour reworking part of a fictional tome originally written in 2010. Consequently, blog production or not, it wouldn’t have been a day of impotence with quill and parchment.
My exercise class was the usual Health Circuits lessons I attend 2-3 times a week at a variety of leisure centres run by Leeds City Council. The Leeds Active card, for which I pay a monthly £24.99 fee, entitling me to full class participation and gym access at all council run leisure facilities….. An expense I’ve had for six months, but only getting full value for that fee since the dawning of 2020.
With a class trainer overseeing warm ups and cool downs, along with guiding the exercises undertaken on each piece of apparatus, it provides me with a degree of comfort my (post heart attack) cardio vascular system won’t be overworked.
Without the accredited health gurus, with their tried and tested training plans for people who’ve suffered cardio issues, I’d have to employ a strategy of organising my own bespoke exercise regime.
My ignorance potentially leading to me developing a totally inappropriate cardio rehab exercise program. Such as encouraging fellow gym dwellers to blindside me with a loud “BOO!!” midway through my treadmill run……. Or maybe asking them to sporadically, as I open my locker at the conclusion of the workout, lunge out at me adorning a Jason Vorhees mask whilst in possession of a chain saw.
Consequently, as I did in phase III of the plan below, I’ll leave phase IV of this fitness program to the professionals.
Anyhow, swiftly on to my marital homes requirement for a flush mechanism replacement…….
The lower floor toilet has been weeping water for a while now. The original ballcock within the cistern finally giving up the ghost after over two decades of unfailing water regulation. Subsequently, it’s remnants have been condemned to the bathroom appliance graveyard in the sky…… Well, my marital homes dustbin.
My mum’s home, where I now reside, is also now at a point where there’re several long neglected fixtures and fittings which require swapping out. Amongst these chores, the replacement of just about every door handle and barrel in chez Strachan.
The situation now requiring urgent addressing as there’s barely a porte within the place that either won’t remain closed due to broken barrel; or, alternatively, needs a sharp shoulder barge to gain entry/exit as a consequence of a dodgy handle.
Like my just swapped out flush system, though, we’ve no complaints about the original door fittings quality. With 30 years exemplary service, they don’t owe my mum (or, until his passing late 2017, my dad) anything.
I’m going top have to conclude this narrative to drive home – My mum’s just rung to say she’s stuck in the kitchen because of a damaged door handle!!
