November 16th 2018


No filters on this one, this is pure unadulterated iPhone 8:15 photo porn, lap it up fiddlers.

Talking about fitness today, Mr and Mrs T may well be getting a running machine. Apparently the solution to my expanding tummy is maybe knocking the real ale on the head. The real ale from the finest makers of the finest real ale in the finest real ale producing country in the world? Are you mad?

Theres got to be another way. So I sat with MCBW (name changed to preserve his anonymity) in the Lamb and Flag, this afternoon for a swift half, i’d finished work for the day or at least was having an exit from the stuff for an hour. Anyway we got talking about fitness and bulk, tummies and middle age (I’m slightly more in the middle than him to be fair) and how the hell we can become how we were all those years ago, thin and stupid, hungry and adventurous. So the running machine was mentioned and MCBW said to me,

“NO, you must get a rowing machine, it is the top of the triangle of fitness”

I’ll leave that with you, I have no idea there even was a triangle, there is much I don’t understand, and for that reason I’m out. I’ll pour my self a glass of wine and pontificate on the potential buggeration of my poor back due to my efforts at rowing down the carpet river to supposed fitness.

Running, thats the ticket.


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