03
Jun
09

anarchy in the uk

A Weeks Catching Up – Home, Sickly Sweet Home – Into The Tube

So, here we are… back home. And things have been busy, busy, busy for the last 24 hours. We arrived back at Stansted about 9.30 last night, cleared customs, collected the bags and then caught the bus back to the car park where we collected The Mystery Machine and drove home – via Tescos to pick up milk and yogurt as the prospect of opening the fridge in the morning to find 1 bottle of Lucozade Sport, 1 small bottle of water and some butter was just too much to bear. Once home, SonNumberOne and SonNumberTwo are put to bed and then the process of attempting to sort things out a little bit begins. The mountain of post is gone through, the copy of Runners World is checked for traces of JogBlog and Hauling My Carcass (p21, in case you missed it) and… hold on, what’s this… a letter from the hospital… I have a date for my MRI scan on my neck / shoulder and… Sheeeeeeeeeeiiit!! It’s for 6.30pm on Wednesday 3rd June!! But Mrs eatingtrees is at college, I’ve no-one to look after the kids… If I cancel, I may not get another appointment for ages…Aaaaarrrggghhh.

Fast forward to 6am this morning when I am awoken by thoughts of how I am supposed to make the scan today… and a weird, sickly sweet smell… Strange!!?? By 7, I’m up and making breakfast for everyone and texting my Mum asking, no, make that begging her to come and look after the boys for 2 hours tonight. She says yes so then the rest of the day can commence… Kids washed, dressed and readied for school, computer on and catching up on e-mails – specifically of the job-hunting variety because I was made redundant about 3 weeks ago and rather than it be the traumatic but reasonable “We’re sorry, here’s your redundancy, here’s your notice period, off you go” type of redundancy, it was the “we’re going into administration, whoops. No redundancy payment, no notice period, you want money, ask for the statutory minimum from the Government” type of redundancy. So, time is very much of the essence and I had been out of the country for a week… Once the e-mails were sorted and the recruitment websites checked (and still that strange smell…), I was off out on todays running part of Juneathon. 6.51 miles, noticeably cooler than Greece and a lot easier to run because of it. It was basically my 10k route with a slight deviation at the start and although I must have run that route 100 times before, today seemed different. Maybe because I hadn’t run it for a week or so and my last 3 runs had been in hot and dusty Greece. Maybe because of the sweet, aniseedy odour that seemed to be haunting me. I returned home and began to stretch, got rid of a few of the knots in the legs on the foam roller and then, it dawned on me… the sickly, slightly Pernod-y smell was coming from me… We’d had some time to kill in the Greek airport and SonNumber One was curious about the “fragrances for men” that were on display… so we played with some of the testers. I was giving off the 12 hour old odour of a nasty creation by Hugo Boss, that was kind of passable when applied but didn’t travel well… time for a shower.

The rest of the day was taken up with lunch, collect kids from school, homework, luggage back in the loft, quick tidy of the house, a (very quick) glance at all the Juneathoners blogs, some press ups, a few phone calls, then dust off the motorbike and off to the MRI scan. I feel a bit of a fraud, arriving for an MRI on a motorbike (“yes, I’ve got this really bad pain in my neck, shoulder and arm, yes that is my very big, very cumbersome, very heavy 1100cc motorbike outside, no the heavy crash helmet and the weight of the bike doesn’t aggravate the pain in my neck, no siree…”) but changing gear in a car does cause me problems, as does sitting for long periods so the bike really is the quickest and most pain free way of getting around.

I’ve never had the pleasure of an MRI before and it is an unusual experience. You are told to remove any metal objects, led into a room where you are given ear plugs, laid on a table, have your head clamped into position and then are wheeled into a horizontal tube. The table is then raised until your nose is about 5cm from the inside of the tube and then the noise begins. A sort of fast, rhythmic, metallic buzz. Which goes on for about 3 minutes, then stops, then starts again for 4 minutes, then stops again. Then starts for 5 minutes, another short break and then another 5 minute stint. It is like being forced to listen to the worst sort of hardcore Dutch Techno over and over again. With added claustrophobia.

A few more press ups, 1 episode of Season 2 of The Wire (I have a backlog to get through) and blog. Phew!

Juneathon Stats: 6.51 mile run, 3 sets of press ups – 45 / 35 / 35 (115 total for day)

Soundtrack to this post: Candy Says – Velvet Underground


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