This morning, before going to mothers, I made a special journey into the city. I visited The Running Shop to buy running shoes plus a few related items, i.e. socks, tracksters, and a couple of "tops" (not that you'd have expected groceries, given its name).
As a shopper I'm a no nonsense kind of bloke. Nine o'clock sharp saw me outside the shop, eagerly waiting for the doors to open; come nine-twenty, I was cheerfully striding down the road, swinging my carrier bag full of the aforementioned goodies. A typical "shop" by me, I guess, as I'm not one for retail-therapy in the social-cum-sexual-event sense. Whip in, whip out. No fuss. That's me.
Tonight's the night. At least that's the plan. I'm nervous though. It's been ten years since I last ran in anger and during that time, I've developed an occasional twinge in my right-knee. Let's hope it's insignificant.
The natural course for me to run would be around the local park, but that's soon to be visited by the Pope. I'm led to believe they've already begun to build fences and place restrictions on the adjoining roads, so I may have to look for an alternative route. All done without consulting the residents I may add, and at enormous cost to the tax and rate-payers. Someone tell me please, do I live in a secular society or not?
I used to walk my much beloved dog, Ruby, around that very park. That rolling grassland,a playground and toilet for my little girl, is for me, a special and consecrated ground. Chances are, the Pope, who I don't particularly care about, and certainly don't revere, will give blessings on a spot once shat upon by her. Life's full of these little ironies.