I am stiff today. Like a big pair of creaky scissors that has not seen a drop of lubrication since the moon was last blue.
I blame an hour of relentless bounding over benches, dangling from ropes, arm-wrestling, and other such things. Oh, and sweating. Lots of sweating. Lots and lots of sweating. Lots and lots and lots of sweating. I will not go on because that would just be too silly a task for even a silly person like me.
Anyway, this stiffness, a result of lactic acid or something, means that I am waddling amusingly like an infant who’s nappy has become full of excrement. Only, without the nasty smell, I hope. It’s good.
Here are some treats for those of you who enjoy by pictures taken at night out of the window of a car being driven speedily along a dull motorway.
They’re just my favourites, a tiny pinch of salt taken from a big heavy brute of a bag. I must say, picking my favourite useless photograph of some blurred headlights is a bit like picking my favourite part of the wall. But actually, I do have a favourite part of the wall – it’s that part over there. Isn’t it lovely? Look at that paint!
Snazzy super-cool people with big towering black cameras will be expecting me to mutter something about a long exposure. So, there you go folks – I just mentioned a long exposure.
Really, why is it that you enjoy such banal things as the ones above? Weirdo.