So how did you spend the holiday season. I hope you all took great advantage of it and the weather wasn’t so bad either was it now?
Myself and the children and a whole heap of other people’s children and other people’s friends children, and their children’s children, a whole entourage of us, spent our days cycling and playing football and walking street like we didn’t have anything purposeful in life to do.
Myself and the children and a whole heap of other people’s children and other people’s friends children, and their children’s children, a whole entourage of us, spent our days cycling and playing football and walking street like we didn’t have anything purposeful in life to do.
For me, this kept their faces from sitting staring at the television all day whilst eating me out of house, home and my forth-coming pension. It also meant that they didn’t sit comatosed and zombified in front of their game cubes or x-boxes, because you know I hate that. All that sitting for hours on end, staring intently at some screen, grunting and shouting words at a screen that can’t talk back. I hate it, I tell you, hate it. For me these things stunt children’s creativity and promotes laziness and as far as I am aware, fresh air never killed anyone yet, so the bikes and the football were a definite must!!!!
So now that my leg has healed from an injury sustained playing football in 2005, which put me on crutches for 3 months, I am glad to say Esther Ronaldhino Austin is back. Now many of my peers have said, that I must be mad, that being 40 and sustaining injuries which would not heal quickly, went hand in hand. My answer to this is that I could get run over by someone’s pushchair (have you seen the size of them lately and have you felt how heavy they are? they can maim and kill, balieve). I could also sprain an ankle just by walking out of my front door and tripping on a paving stone which would ensure I end up face down, between two slabs of concrete, mashing up my cute little face. Like a Barbadian friend of mine keeps saying “life ain’t easy.”
But I just think that people are jealous. Bet you can’t run to the toilet and back without feeling as if you’ve just climbed Mount Everest. It’s ok, peeps, I understand envy. Anyway, being on cruches was a great experience and yes, to a certain degree I milked it. There was never a time that so many people stood aside for me when I got on public transport. People got up and offered me a seat. I could see the look of concern on their faces as I hobbled onto the bus, and many even ventured to ask “what happened?” I didn’t always tell that truth. To state that I had mashed up my leg playing football often meant watching the sympathy instantly drain out of people's eyes. I'd then receive a “serve you right, you should’ve kept your dry old carcass in doors doing the knitting.” So I kept how I damaged my leg to myself and just whispered, all coy that I had sustained the injury in a most dreadful way. Therefore, youngesters, the blind and the elderly in wheelchairs were offering me their seat. RESULT. I didn’t even get that when I was pregrant, star. Other than standing up and scratching my belly, raising up my top in the process to show off my pregant belly, I would’ve had to pass out and fall into someone’s lap before anyone would offer me a seat.
But, since playing footie two years ago, I have become addicted. I now understand the madness in the eyes of fans and the feeling of elation at scoring a goal. I can now understand the loss of voice just by shouting “come on you fools, run, get the ball, score, I’ve paid good money to see you play.’ I can now understand the feeling of wanting to kick someone’s head in when they miss scoring a goal. I can also understand wanting to run butt naked onto the field when a goal has been scored. It’s an absolutely fabulous feeling of elation and with everyone exuding the same energy, I now know what it feels like to act like a YOB. (Ok, I can sense many of you squirming at the sight of me running butt naked anywhere, nevermind on the field. It’s ok, there’s not much to see, brittle bone has got me in a bad way. I’ve shrunk by about a foot and gravity has dealt a raw hand with the rest of my body bits. Anyway like I said before, I understand envy, so deal with it and if I were brave enough to run out onto any field butt naked – I’m sure I’d be in better shape than any of you out there.)
Anyway, it’s time to start planning for the 6 week holidays 2007 – and since I’ve hung up my football boots for a while, I am thinking of attempting rock climbing, but the thought of falling and mashing up my teeth is not too enticing, then again why not, as Susan Jeffers states, "Feel the Fear and Do it anyway."
So now that my leg has healed from an injury sustained playing football in 2005, which put me on crutches for 3 months, I am glad to say Esther Ronaldhino Austin is back. Now many of my peers have said, that I must be mad, that being 40 and sustaining injuries which would not heal quickly, went hand in hand. My answer to this is that I could get run over by someone’s pushchair (have you seen the size of them lately and have you felt how heavy they are? they can maim and kill, balieve). I could also sprain an ankle just by walking out of my front door and tripping on a paving stone which would ensure I end up face down, between two slabs of concrete, mashing up my cute little face. Like a Barbadian friend of mine keeps saying “life ain’t easy.”
But I just think that people are jealous. Bet you can’t run to the toilet and back without feeling as if you’ve just climbed Mount Everest. It’s ok, peeps, I understand envy. Anyway, being on cruches was a great experience and yes, to a certain degree I milked it. There was never a time that so many people stood aside for me when I got on public transport. People got up and offered me a seat. I could see the look of concern on their faces as I hobbled onto the bus, and many even ventured to ask “what happened?” I didn’t always tell that truth. To state that I had mashed up my leg playing football often meant watching the sympathy instantly drain out of people's eyes. I'd then receive a “serve you right, you should’ve kept your dry old carcass in doors doing the knitting.” So I kept how I damaged my leg to myself and just whispered, all coy that I had sustained the injury in a most dreadful way. Therefore, youngesters, the blind and the elderly in wheelchairs were offering me their seat. RESULT. I didn’t even get that when I was pregrant, star. Other than standing up and scratching my belly, raising up my top in the process to show off my pregant belly, I would’ve had to pass out and fall into someone’s lap before anyone would offer me a seat.
But, since playing footie two years ago, I have become addicted. I now understand the madness in the eyes of fans and the feeling of elation at scoring a goal. I can now understand the loss of voice just by shouting “come on you fools, run, get the ball, score, I’ve paid good money to see you play.’ I can now understand the feeling of wanting to kick someone’s head in when they miss scoring a goal. I can also understand wanting to run butt naked onto the field when a goal has been scored. It’s an absolutely fabulous feeling of elation and with everyone exuding the same energy, I now know what it feels like to act like a YOB. (Ok, I can sense many of you squirming at the sight of me running butt naked anywhere, nevermind on the field. It’s ok, there’s not much to see, brittle bone has got me in a bad way. I’ve shrunk by about a foot and gravity has dealt a raw hand with the rest of my body bits. Anyway like I said before, I understand envy, so deal with it and if I were brave enough to run out onto any field butt naked – I’m sure I’d be in better shape than any of you out there.)
Anyway, it’s time to start planning for the 6 week holidays 2007 – and since I’ve hung up my football boots for a while, I am thinking of attempting rock climbing, but the thought of falling and mashing up my teeth is not too enticing, then again why not, as Susan Jeffers states, "Feel the Fear and Do it anyway."
So from one mouth full of dentures after a session on the rocks and a couple of broken finger nails, like Nike States:
JUST DO IT.
“Human beings are the only creatures on earth that allow their children to come back home”
Bill Cosby
"Don't tell your kids you had an easy birth or they won't respect you. For years I used to wake up my daughter and say, 'Melissa you ripped me to shreds. Now go back to sleep."
“Human beings are the only creatures on earth that allow their children to come back home”
Bill Cosby
"Don't tell your kids you had an easy birth or they won't respect you. For years I used to wake up my daughter and say, 'Melissa you ripped me to shreds. Now go back to sleep."
Joan Rivers
