September 15th, 2019


On Friday night I was invited out with the guys. I was aware that I needed to up the ante with gym. So instead of sitting outside in the sunshine, drinking red, I jiggled my plump arse to the gym. No excuses, I'd eaten out twice on Thursday. It paid off, I am now ahead of schedule. I am determined to break into the top "Mission Impossible" status again.

Rod pinged me with the moon. It was Friday 13th, and so, without a drop of alcohol, I merrily did as he suggested, naked, in the garden, and moonbathed with Fatso for a while. I felt divine, it was liberating and gorgeous. Sadly he was in Chelmsford, so NFA, but I followed through with his sexy suggestion, with great gusto!

This morning I was up with the larks, positively fizzing! On the bike, down to the gym, had a gym n swim session, came home, changed and headed off to Gravesend to visit the 'rents. Dad is still very fatigued, but looks good! Proof that cutting down on the booze helps, even when you're nearly 85, LMAO!

I also took the opportunity to visit Siri Guru Nanak. This used to be a little Sikh conclave in a deconsecrated church at the end of the road where my cottage was. Now it's a magnificent edifice, glowing, in it's own grounds. People who know me, know I dislike organised worship with a vengence. This was built on love and worship. It welcomes everybody. Even plump, white, middle aged ladies in the walking shorts her Boo gave her. It is amazing. I will be back for a full tour. Possibly when I have to jet wash the paretals gardens and sheds as promised!

After that, came the balance, I'm no saint. Sat in the dying sun, drinking Prosecco til I could pee it neat. Feasting on pork, eaten with fingers, laughing, chatting and putting the world to rights. Proper belly laughs and good times, with wonderful people. And that alone I would be very appreciative of, but not having to pay a penny for it was the icing on the cake. My lips are still tingling, no idea what was on that juicy, delicious piggy, but it was absolutely gorgeous!
*However*. Wisely called it quits as I am on a mission tomorrow. Wobbled back on the train, and wobbled even more on Brunhilde, seven sheets to the wind, in a tight maxi dress, with no lights. on the pavement. But lived!

Praying I wake up early and crack on. I am currently feeling all the love for everybody.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

Up early, have a few coffees, put washing on.

Prep 2 large bottles of juice and 2 flasks of coffee, and some nuts. Pick a book. Cover myself with sunscreen. Pull on my cycling shorts and purple vest, because today's the day I'm going to cycle 75km.

Brunhilde had a flat tyre. So I fetch the pump. An hour later I still have not managed to inflate the tyre. So I decide to take Rod's mountain bike. Wheel that out from the pink room, get on it, it also has a completely flat tyre. I really really didn't want to ride Frenchie, with her rock hard saddle and handlebars, but hey ho, off I go. Knowing it would be painful.

I am now home, having done a combination of 43km cycling and 13.5km walking. My knee is fine, my arse is killing me. That bike is in no way suitable to ride distances, it's extremely uncomfortable, to say the least. But I persisted.

I was so pumped up this morning, I know I could've slayed the 75km on my wonderful Brunhilde. An elegant, comfortable lady, who doesn't have to try hard. No gears and no fears.

So, not a resounding success, but I didn't give up.


Nix asked me to show commitment by getting "Still I Rise" from Maya Angelou's fabulous poem, tattooed on my wrist to match hers.

So I did.

She deserves that commitment.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Still I rise.