Hang on. I'll just get my breath back ...
Sorry about the wait.
If you haven't seen the Billy Elliot film, that scene alone makes it worth a watch. Here's the Youtube clip. Why not boogie along?
Luckily, our living room is not overlooked by any other houses. I would hate to feature on Instagram or Facebook with the caption, 'Watch my neighbour
Still, it got the old bones shaking about and reminded my joints that they're meant to help my limbs flex.
It's about time I moved my body. It's been so snowy and icy for the last week, I haven't done any of my normal walking routines and what with staying indoors, near the fridge, I suspect the scales will tell a sorry story. I usually hop off the bus in the mornings, four stops after my workplace, and walk back to give myself a regular fifteen minute workout, but I've been avoiding that while the pavements have been more suitable for Torvill and Dean than for a middle-aged woman with an untrustworthy knee and a nervous disposition.
I fell over on ice several years back and injured the knee, landing plum on my kneecap as though I'd suddenly come across the Queen, and my knee hasn't thanked me since.
My husband has been out twice today for walks in the deep snow, booted and trussed up like a polar explorer. He thinks he is the Ernest Shackleton of the West Midlands. He asks if I want to come with him, but then his long legs don't disappear up to the hips as my titchy ones do. 'It's all right for you,' I tell him. 'You don't end up looking like someone's left a torso and head resting on the snowdrift.'
The snow is melting now so, on Monday, I can hopefully get back to the walking routine before my joints calcify and I am found stiff and unyielding, 'I Love to Boogie' playing impotently in the background.
|'It says she wants it played at her funeral. Imagine!'|