The Great Comeback

It was all the mother-in-law’s fault. If she hadn’t fallen off her broomstick and broken her hip, I would have spent my weekend in Bristol not Bolton. Anyway as a result of her accident we headed north on Friday, the M6 was its usual self so by the time we reached Bolton I was in need of beer. So I immediately thought of EtU and headed for the T&T. After recovering from the shock of getting change from a fiver for two pints, I said to EtU that I had been given the all clear to try a slow run after a 26 month lay-off. A run was duly arranged.

The next morning , (Saturday in case anyone is not paying attention), I parked up at the bottom of the rough track leading to the Pigeon Tower, and set off – walking. That track was steep enough when I could run and was used to the hills (geographical note; no such thing as hills in Berkshire), so in my present palsied state there was no way I was even going to attempt to run it. However, once I reached Georges Lane, I broke into a slow jog and managed to get as far as the Pike Race gate without walking, which, before anyone starts scoffing, was a great achievement considering how bad I was a year ago. By this time it had started raining, the clag was down and I was getting cold, so I started down the Pike Race route and soon saw three figures coming up the hill, EtU, JtE and a lady, and further off in the distance the unmistakeable figure of Rondest Goon. I was introduced to Pauline, and I was delighted to meet up again with JtE after almost five years. Such was my joy that I was equally glad to see Drongo Tones again, although of course this did not prevent me from insulting him. One of the great features of Thursday nights used to be Goon baiting, and I had a lot of catching up to do. It really isn’t anything personal, but I do like traditions and I feel it would have been remiss of me not to hurl a few (?) insults in the direction of the Strong No Ode.

 Of course, as soon as we started the ascent of the Pike, the insults had to stop – too knackered to talk. At the top we sheltered from the rain before setting off down. We headed up Georges Lane and then peeled off to Noon Hill. At was at this point I realised just how unfit I had become, and I decided to turn back along with EtU who had to be home by 11. An undignified clamber over a fence and a nice run across and down the slope soon brought me back to the car, tired and wet but happy.

Touch wood, the back stood up to it all ok, and I am very grateful to the others for their support. I look forward to the next time.

The Lord of Brentford