25 Apr – Knobheads and Arse Cracks

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Babbo Natale in his more usual garb

 

with apologies for my plagiarism of Disney’s classic Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Today’s run was back to the hills and vales of my village and surroundings. I managed to haul my sorry arse out of bed earlier than yesterday’s run and a damned good job as today’s temperatures were forecast to reach an even more scorchio 27 degrees.

First off up Mill Lane as usual and a quick peek at Lovers’ Lane to see if Anouska and Albino were there. They evidently are much earlier risers than me, so no sign of them. My plan kms today were slightly fewer than yesterday, no need to run the gauntlet of stroppy teengers etc., at Villa Bali today, although as it’s Liberation Day today, everyone is on holiday anyway.

I’d already agreed a coffee rendezvous with Mr JCR, and pootled off down the Hill that Kills towards the Bendy, Scary Road. Hallelujah it had shady bits, which is a real blessing I can tell you.  I entered the next village and decided buying the usual water dumbbell would be a good idea, given the temperature was rising very quickly indeed.  I loaded up in the Royston Vasey cafe, same issue with the wobbly fridge and loud clanking of bottles. This time I had to ask a man with his walking stick to move out of the way – if my blog entries stop shortly  – please let the police know that I have been murdered, most probably by the proprietors of the local café for local people.

Coming out of the village I spotted a stopped car, the driver having a chat with a man I recognised immediately – it was Babbo Natale, wearing rather natty black and green flash short and top combo. I smiled and waved but by the way he screwed up his face, I’m not sure he recognised me. Still it’s been 4 months now since his very busy night and he can’t be expected to recognise everyone.

Then to my absolute horror and consternation, I got arse-cracked. Yes it’s the cyclist who has a penchant for light coloured bib shorts (technical term for cyclist nappy pants). He was wearing his white ones again, let me tell you, I could see all his under-carriage. He evidently hasn’t heard of waxing, either there or anywhere, you could see each and every pubic hair defining the shape of his buttocks.

What was worse was the he is not the fittest/fastest cyclist I see, and so I had to endure the sight of his arse crack sending me a visual Morse code, with the rise and fall of each of his legs, as he struggled to get out of my view. It must have been 20 seconds of unremitting hell. I’d have run back up the hill, except that my poor feet are buggered at the moment and once I’m on my run route, there’s no turning back, not even to avoid an inappropriate arse crack.

To happier matters, once he was out of the way, I got into a routine and there were still some shady places and I had an unremarkable run into the fish shop village.  Running past the gelato square, there was a souped-up old Mercedes with three men of a certain age in the car, wearing shades and cool slicked back hair. They whooped something in Italian, which I didn’t quite hear when I ran past – it sounded like ‘head for the hills’ and lots of aye aye ooh ooh noises. Ah, a car full of knobheads, still I suppose Italy isn’t immune from them, although we rarely see them in this quiet corner.

I continued along, to my final uphill section of road, which I think should be called ‘bin lane’ as the whole road is punctuated by so many recycling skips and they provide a welcome, if smelly, shade. As I ran past the corner an old man shouted to his wife “guarda, guarda” which is look, look.  I’m guessing he doesn’t see runners very often and isn’t just an older knobhead.

Pootling on and I got to the coffee shop to meet Mr JCR, where he was holding aloft the Gazetta Dello Sport, which was reporting how rubbish Roma played and how good Liverpool were, with our new recruit Mohamed Salah. The headline was Conto Salahto – which in correctly spelt Italian translates as a hefty bill. That headline alone, made up for being arse-cracked and ‘knobheaded’.

Playlist

I Say A Little Prayer – Aretha Franklin

Johnny B Goode – Chuck Berry

Bad Moon Rising – Creedence Clearwater Revival

You Never Can Tell – Chuck Berry

She Loves You – The Beatles

Rescue Me – Fontella Bass

I’m Into Something Good – Herman’s Hermits

It’s My Party – Lesley Gore

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough – Marvin Gaye, Tammi Terrell

Wonderful World – Herman’s Hermits

Pretty Woman – Roy Orbison

Born To Be Wild – Steppen wolf

Build Me Up Buttercup – The Temptations

You Really Got Me – The Kinks

Be My Baby – Ronettes

Ode To Billie Joe – Bobbie Gentry

 

Stats

Distance 9.22km

Time 1:04:52

Average Pace 7:02 (I blame the 20 seconds of arse-cracking, it put me off my stride)

Elevation Gain 32 metres

 

Alzheimer’s Challenge

Kms Done 721.92

Kms Still to D0 1296.08 – yes I’ve broken the 1300s, on my way down to the 1000 mark…

Oh and thank you Chris, for a very generous donation to my challenge. I promise to keep going and make you chuckle when I can.

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