It Ain't What You Do, It's The Way That You Do It

Having recovered from my recent venture into the North Yorkshire Heartland, (reprinted below in case you can’t be bothered to follow the link), I felt sufficiently inspired to obtain a micro R/C helicopter of my very own. Flying the little machine is quite an art and, so far I’ve managed a few crash landings as a result of too rapid throttling down. As all our rooms are rather cluttered it proves a tremendous testing ground for my beginner’s skills. My limited powers of concentration are certainly tested to their full extent. A walk around the corner to my younger (step) daughter’s home enabled me to demonstrate my newly acquired skills in their open-plan residence. Providence must have led to this wonderful airspace being available just a few steps from our own front door.

Who’d have thought that going to a barbecue could lead to the purchase of a helicopter? The god of commerce certainly moves in mysterious ways. If the saying is true that “little things please little minds”, I am proud to be the owner of a mind of microscopic proportion! Still, size isn’t everything; it’s what you do with it that counts!

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A venture into North Yorkshire’s Heartland (posted 05 August 2007 on Mal’s Murmurings)

Sweltering hot and humid weather, just what I needed today! A night of aches and pains, tender glands and recurrent cramps, was further heightened by the general mugginess. The big question is how much do I blame atmospheric conditions and, how much yesterday’s exertions (no matter how enjoyable they were) for being the real culprit?

Today has been a day of spasmodically intense discomfort in neck, hips, knees, thighs and calves. Stand up to move across the room and, next minute writhing in agony on the floor; sit down on a dining chair before suddenly having to jump to painful attention. It’s with the most intense gratitude that I recognize such circumstance as having been an almost daily occurrence a couple of years back; these days, the experience proves more startling because it’s not such a regular companion.

Yesterday began in the usual low key manner, apart from my beauty sleep being disturbed at an early hour by the telephone’s shrill, with a quick visit into town (chauffeured by ma belle amoureuse) around lunchtime. On returning home, I marinaded a couple of chicken breast fillets in one of my special spice concoctions before giving them a light char-grilling. A couple more fillets served as the basis for a casserole prepared for Sunday lunch.

By 4.15pm we headed off to our barbecue, in deepest North Yorkshire, far off the beaten track. The setting proved quite idyllic as we observed a multitude of House Martins, feeding on the wing before heading back to their nests in the eaves of the farmhouse. A couple of gazebos had been erected in the grounds, next to a gigantic weeping willow, just in case the elements turned against us.

Apart from wining and dining I took advantage of the opportunity to fly a model helicopter and, carefully monitored the rev counter on a real jet-engined model aircraft. We later ventured into the guitar, keyboard and PA lined music room and communally sang along to some 60’s classics. Adequately, though not excessively, alcohol fuelled (my tolerance ain’t what it used to be), I was quite happy to launch into my party-piece rendition of Phil Ochs ‘Draft Dodger Rag’, the lyrics of which seemed quite pertinent to a gathering of medics. Having enjoyed the festivities for over four hours, a record breaking bout of socializing for the past four years, we had a leisurely drive home.

I guessed there may be repercussions for attempting to enjoy a normal life but, I hope and trust that recovery will not be long delayed!

This post also appears on Hirsute Antiquity.