19/10/2019 by Carl Reynolds
Stagnant, still, frustrated, angry. Been feeling all these things about and in myself, and the wider context for a while now. The universe reminding me that I need to shift. To something I love doing, rather than am good at doing. And what a tonic today was.
At the larger scale, BoJo had yet more evidence that he is unloved, which must be uncomfortable for a sociopath. But he’ll probably end up serving the ravenous who are waiting to suck up the remaining common wealth.
Mrs Ape and I woke at 6am for a trip to Swanage. The last gig race of the year. SuperVets. Old people with special powers. Pre-geriatric collossi! Beautiful morning to drive east, twilight, coloured sky, rising sun, mists, dramatic headlands – especially around Golden Head – and endless ancient earthworks.
And to Swanage – last visited for my 50th Birthday – but now to race in a gig crew. Breakfast at the friendly Love Cafe, which served us a magnificent double eggs, black pudding, back bacon, sausage, tomato and toast. The coffee was good, they do loose leaf tea and the marmalade was ace.
Mrs Ape then wandered off and up the bay’s headland to Harry’s Rocks and the views to Brownsea Island and the Isle of Wight, while myself slogged round a 3.7km race course and qualified second fastest for the Final. Which is rare for Brixham. We were elated. Having aimed to get to the Final (top ten), we now started fantasising about winning. Alas it was not to be. We were bolloxed, banjaxed and rammed by the terror of Torpoint; knocked back from 3rd to 9th, and finished 5th after some heroic rowing on the home stretch.
And then a swim in the balmy waters of Swanage Bay…sand all the way in at high tide…and once recovered onto Java, a little haven of expert espressos and mighty fine cakes tucked into a back street, for some grub, before a wending home in the setting sun.
And now I am in motion again, refreshed, re-invigorated, ready to go.