Constantly being harangued to take excercise for my health benefit, in my old age, I walk!
Taking no chances, at a steady pace I stroll along my nearby seaside promenade thinking kindly of my fellow human beings, sniffing the Pacific sea breeze and looking forward to my morning caffeine latte eye opener.
Not for long . . . out of no where, within millimetres of my backside comes a blade runner. Silent as a ghost, on rubber tyres, he scares me shitless. Now swaying slightly, on my other side comes a helmeted lycra clad cyclist, head down pedal pumping prick straight for me at grand prix speed. He swerves violently, and I brandish my stick and curse. He calls me by the obscene name for a lady's thing and pedals faster.
Taking to the recreational grass for safety, I am whacked by whajamacallit . . . those flying plastic discs, which is immediately grabbed by a very chunky stafford, who grins at me derisively as if to say "There there Gramps. I bet you couldn't do that"
I go home with my tail between my legs and put my cafeteria on the stove . . . well, bugger it. The breeze was too cold anyway, and my coffee is bettter and $3 cheaper.
Hey ho . . . another day!
