Your boat. Especially when it’s all you have left to do.

Over the years I have been on a journey through many different types of exercise. At my best I swam forty lengths of the pool. After that I went to a small gym for those who wanted more gentle work with weights. I learnt to cycle again. Then there was Pilates. When lockdown hit, I did a couple of things during PE with Joe. I walked on the spot for a while with Step2Next then. And now? I struggle through exercises recommended by a physio. I can barely make it into our local park with trekking poles.

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You’re welcome

He clicked the alarm off and made his bed straightaway. He tugged at the edges to make it smooth, stared at it for a moment and then, satisfied, he walked briskly to get himself ready. His uniform was hanging up, ironed and ready for him. He held his head straight and steady as he buttoned his white shirt, did his burgundy tie and shrugged on his waistcoat. He must ask today for a belt with more notches. This one did not hold his trousers up at all. He inspected his shoes, still gleaming from last night. The bride had been magnificent, one of the best he’d seen in all his twenty years.

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Croby’s not at home.

His hands were so much bigger than hers, so when he told her to put her finger there, she hesitated. She can’t remember his eyes because they were so far up above her. People who knew him always tell her the same stories about him, and say they had loved him dearly. Her heart swells at that, when all she really has was the croby rhyme and some snatches of memory.

Continue reading “Croby’s not at home.”