Chill out, man

I decided to join Sunday Club today, the metaphorical fitness collective that find themselves clad in Sports Direct’s finest burning off the December blues and shaping up for the onslaught of marathon sports events the summer will bring. Today was a solo effort on cycle – a tester of the water to see how far we can push ourselves when we assemble next week for a proper ride – from MediaCity through Trafford Park (where I got lost), Stretford, Chorlton, Fallowfield and eventually town (Nero’s, precisely), where I am currently sipping a latte and have just gotten through the heat rush of the warm indoors.

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I decided to take a little stop off because something really riled me en-route… I thought I’d have a pleasant toddle through South Manchester with the playlist for this week’s SRA Selector show and for the most part that is exactly what happened. Spurred on by the toe-tappy new tune from Clean Bandit, soothed when irate at the bloody sat nav by British Sea Power. I reckon the music on Wednesday night will be up there with the best British stuff we’ve played.


All that was very nice.

(The Nero’s playlist is good today… Marling, now Lucy Rose-(you ever tried her Builder Grey tea?- very nice)).

Still, I took a detour through Platt Fields Park – a place I hadn’t visited before – and found this lovely lake right in the middle of it. Perfect spot to take a break, and I was going to bash out a blog there, had it not been for the sodden benches. I thought of the wet-ass consequence and bailed on the idea. I perched on my ‘plush-comfort’ saddle (and although looks antiquated and Granny-suited, I’m keeping it. It came with the bike and it’s comfy), took an obligatory grammable photo and watched a family feed the fat geese.

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Then it all turned a bit sour. First up Mum got all ratty that her rechargeable batteries had run out and therefore the camera was out of the game. Shame. There was a short bicker about the batteries, then upon the young Daughter’s prod, Dad dished out some bread and pointed in the direction of a few plump birds coming down the hill towards the lake. Daughter runs off in excitement only to lose her footing on the mud and hits the deck. Now, I witnessed a mate of mine do that on a skiing trip in Austria: managed to lose control of her skis and off she shot towards the ONLY muddy section of the slope and caked her white salopettes in thick, clayed up mud. To say it was amusing for absolutely everyone on the slope is an understatement.
Think about the amount of stupid things you did as a hapless child. Crumbs above, I remember trying to impress my sister by throwing a golf ball over the roof of the house: smashed a window. Then for some bizarre reason as a small boy I sprinkled talcum powder on every square inch of the bathroom floor. The reaction to both from my parents – well, amusing since we were due to rip out the window soon anyway, and my Dad ran and got a camera to photograph the hilarity of the talc incident..

Back to Platt Fields – Daughter is now rather muddy. Oh my hobgoblin the explosion from the parents of fury at getting so filthy was unbelievable. Swearing and shouting… I felt extremely sorry for the poor girl. This probably happened within about two bike-lengths of where I was perched on the ‘plush-comfort’. Dad carried on feeding the geese, berating and cursing as Mum led the daughter further from me to tell her off more…

Chill out, man. Aren’t everybody’s blood pressures high enough as it is!?

I don’t mean to cast dispersions, I don’t know the background of this family. The daughter might well do that every single time they go out, or a load of washing might be last thing parents want to deal with amongst the preoccupations of whatever else. I don’t know. I’m not even a parent myself. As I say though, I remember many times in my young youth where this kind of thing happened and it was always met by laughter. When we were playing once, my cousin Rowan fell in a stream: he ended up wearing his sister’s spare clothes back home.
I just remember everyone finding it very amusing – it’s priceless entertainment and no one got hurt.

What shame for what could have been a lovely morning feeding the geese. I hopped back on my bike and put Clean Bandit on again to brighten up the mood. I then cycled past some dude doing his morning yoga and though, good on you mate.. Your blood pressure looks absolutely fine to me.

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