Turf zone – Skeltiemuir
Yes, it’s the 25th of December and Christmas is with us again. So, merry festive greetings to those who celebrate this event and try not to eat and drink too much festive fare, and enjoy your Sunday to those who do not believe in Santa. And, to Mr and Mrs Scrooge, BE HAPPY, or I’ll be sending the Terminator of Christmas Future to sort you out. Okay?
I took the Swifty Zero kick scooter for a spin this morning, out around Bonnyrigg, hunting down the red zones that have been spoiling my nice neat collection of green zones. As I kick scooted my way along the almost deserted streets of the town, my thoughts turned to my school days and what they taught us at school. Of course, they taught us lots of things, some useful, others, well, pointless, at least that what I thought at the time.
Arithmetic is useful in everyday life, though not so much these days when we have computers and mobile phones to do even our simplest of thinking for us. They taught us English, which I’m happy to say is very useful. Good for blogging. Never saw the point of having to read The Catcher in the Rye or Stig of the Dump, mind you. Some subjects I found interesting, for example, geography, chemistry. technical drawing and biology, but not all that relevant when you end up working in the construction industry as a quantity surveyor measuring things and counting bricks.
There there’s the stuff they didn’t teach at school, though perhaps they do these days, but they certainly didn’t back in the 1970’s. It would have been useful to know about applying for jobs, attending job interviews, buying your first car, how not to get ripped off when your car needs an MOT, managing your money and how to talk to girls without flushing red with embarrassment might also have been useful. But there’s one thing I would have like to been aware off and that is what happens when you get old.
I’m 61-years old now and quite shocked to realise that my body isn’t quite as good as it used to be, even just a few years ago. Suddenly there’s all the little aches and pains that seem to appear from no-where. You know, I wonder if there’s an aches and pains goblin, like the plook goblin that used to visit me at night in my teenage years. Even getting up off the floor, or from the couch, or bending down to tie boot laces, isn’t as easy as it used to be. I actually searched the Internet for “what to expect when you reach 60” and found tons of stuff. But reading it was so depressing that I soon gave up. Decided it’s better not to know and just get on with it. By it, I mean life and, of course, turfing.
So, out turfing this morning on the kick scooter, only 15 zones taken, but good to get active before Christmas lunch at my brother-in-law’s house. The streets were very quiet. I’d expected hordes of children out on the latest fad, which I thought might be electric scooters, but not a single one did I encounter. They are all probably at home playing with toys or whatever electronic gizmo is in favour this year.
Today was the first time I used my Willesden Sustainable Scooter Bag while kick scooting. Used it to carry the mobile phone. However, it was initially most annoying, refusing to stay behind my back and always slipping around to dangle at the front, banging into certain parts of the anatomy that simply do not like scooter bags banging into them. Poor wee lads! It was only when I warmed up and removed my jacket, stowing it inside the scooter bag, that it started to behave as expected. Much to the relief of the poor wee lads. Seems you need some weight in it for it to stay in place.
Anyway, off for some Christmas grub soon, so better start getting ready, I suppose. Guess I’ll need to have my annual B A T H, change my underwear this month and be cheery and pleasant to all the relatives. Been given my Christmas instructions by ChoccyMuffin:
- Use the knife and fork provided.
- Eat with my mouth closed.
- Leave the chocolates alone.
- Engauge in pleasant conversation.
- No passing wind or burping.
- Pay attention to the King’s Speech.
- You cannot take your kick scooter.
- No slipping away to go turfing.
Bah humbug! Christmas is cancelled!
Copyright ©2022 Gary Buckham. All rights reserved.
