Knackered of Aberystwyth
Aug. 3rd, 2011 05:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
euniceOh yes I am! I went to the gym today, as I always do of a wednesday (and a monday and friday), and I managed to get there for the half past 10 class. Now usually I go around the equipment on my own; two circuits and steps in between. That's enough for me, to be honest. By then I'm sweating like the proverbial and bright red in the face. That takes a nice 20 minutes.
But the class goes on for an hour and consists of three circuits of the room with lots of very tough exercises in between. There were six of us in the class, not counting Karen who runs the gym. The nice thing is, I was the youngest! It's lovely to be the baby of the group at 50! Only one was anything like as fit as Karen. That's what I like about that gym: it's not only just for women, but the women who use it are not all leggy young things in tight lycra making the rest of us mere mortals feel like rubbish.
When the class was over and we'd all changed, we headed over the road to a cafe and had coffee and a gossip. It's funny, but I hadn't thought of going to the gym as a social thing. I started going, three weeks ago, because I decided that at 50 it was high time I got a bit fitter. And that it might help strengthen my legs, given that my arthritic-y old knees have been playing up. I went to see my counsellor yesterday, and the last time I had been to see her was a month ago. When I told her that I'd started going to a gym, she said she had noticed that I seemed to have lost some weight. Which is nice, as I hadn't noticed!
Mind you, I thought I didn't need to have a work out today given that I had had a good one yesterday evening, thanks to two naughty hens who shall be nameless. Yes, I mean you, Clover and Buttercup. It would be Clover; it's always Clover. Unless it's Shelley, but then that's only when she's broody, then all bets are off. I had let the girls out into the garden, being a nice, kind hen mum. I checked on them a couple of times and they were fine, scrabbling about on the bank of the stream, where there's lots of nice, rotted leaves with bugs and worms.
Then at 6 o'clock, as Inara was fossicking for her supper, I decided to get them all back in. Inara went into her run, nice as she can be, and I'd got Shelley out of bed to get her to eat something. (Yes, it's broody season for Shelley!) Then Daisy and Rose wandered up, hearing the magical sound of the mealworm tub being shaken. But there was no sign of Clover and Buttercup. I walked around the garden, shaking the mealworm tub. Finally I saw them, up in the corner behind the swing. Right into the corner, looking shifty eyed and darn guilty.
As I came closer, instead of running to their dearest, darling Mummy as good little hens should, they scrambled behind the leylandii and squeezed through the fence into the field. Thankfully the sheep had been moved to the upper field, or my girls would have been terrorising the poor things. If you think I'm joking, ask the cats. I panicked, realising what a vast amount of field there was for two naughty hens to hide in. So I clambered over the stile, into the field and ran after them.
Of course, Simba the short-sighted cat had to join in. Buttercup chased him a little bit, but quickly overtook him and ran straight on. I was half-way up the field, almost to the stream, before I managed to catch her. I then had to clamber back over the stile, clutching a reluctant hen. She was looking a bit ashamed of herself, but I didn't trust that gleam in her eyes at all. After I'd popped her into the run with the other two (who were feeling virtuous as they'd had mealworms), I got the Big Net out of the outhouse and set off after Clover.
The big net is a big fishing net and is very useful for catching runaway hens without harming them. When we bought it, from a fishing shop, the chap in the shop said that everyone bought them for catching hens, not fish! Clover was heading towards the derelict house, but I managed to get a bit ahead of her and swipe her into the net. She gave up after that, but she muttered something about how it was unfair and not at all sporting, as I went back over the stile with her.
I've told them that I am not letting them out Ever Again unless the complete compliment of the Welsh Guards are around to, well, guard them. Failing that, DH. So they weren't best pleased with me this afternoon, when I only changed their water and gave them fresh food, after cleaning the hen house and collecting the eggs. Hah!
All for now then. Pryn da!
But the class goes on for an hour and consists of three circuits of the room with lots of very tough exercises in between. There were six of us in the class, not counting Karen who runs the gym. The nice thing is, I was the youngest! It's lovely to be the baby of the group at 50! Only one was anything like as fit as Karen. That's what I like about that gym: it's not only just for women, but the women who use it are not all leggy young things in tight lycra making the rest of us mere mortals feel like rubbish.
When the class was over and we'd all changed, we headed over the road to a cafe and had coffee and a gossip. It's funny, but I hadn't thought of going to the gym as a social thing. I started going, three weeks ago, because I decided that at 50 it was high time I got a bit fitter. And that it might help strengthen my legs, given that my arthritic-y old knees have been playing up. I went to see my counsellor yesterday, and the last time I had been to see her was a month ago. When I told her that I'd started going to a gym, she said she had noticed that I seemed to have lost some weight. Which is nice, as I hadn't noticed!
Mind you, I thought I didn't need to have a work out today given that I had had a good one yesterday evening, thanks to two naughty hens who shall be nameless. Yes, I mean you, Clover and Buttercup. It would be Clover; it's always Clover. Unless it's Shelley, but then that's only when she's broody, then all bets are off. I had let the girls out into the garden, being a nice, kind hen mum. I checked on them a couple of times and they were fine, scrabbling about on the bank of the stream, where there's lots of nice, rotted leaves with bugs and worms.
Then at 6 o'clock, as Inara was fossicking for her supper, I decided to get them all back in. Inara went into her run, nice as she can be, and I'd got Shelley out of bed to get her to eat something. (Yes, it's broody season for Shelley!) Then Daisy and Rose wandered up, hearing the magical sound of the mealworm tub being shaken. But there was no sign of Clover and Buttercup. I walked around the garden, shaking the mealworm tub. Finally I saw them, up in the corner behind the swing. Right into the corner, looking shifty eyed and darn guilty.
As I came closer, instead of running to their dearest, darling Mummy as good little hens should, they scrambled behind the leylandii and squeezed through the fence into the field. Thankfully the sheep had been moved to the upper field, or my girls would have been terrorising the poor things. If you think I'm joking, ask the cats. I panicked, realising what a vast amount of field there was for two naughty hens to hide in. So I clambered over the stile, into the field and ran after them.
Of course, Simba the short-sighted cat had to join in. Buttercup chased him a little bit, but quickly overtook him and ran straight on. I was half-way up the field, almost to the stream, before I managed to catch her. I then had to clamber back over the stile, clutching a reluctant hen. She was looking a bit ashamed of herself, but I didn't trust that gleam in her eyes at all. After I'd popped her into the run with the other two (who were feeling virtuous as they'd had mealworms), I got the Big Net out of the outhouse and set off after Clover.
The big net is a big fishing net and is very useful for catching runaway hens without harming them. When we bought it, from a fishing shop, the chap in the shop said that everyone bought them for catching hens, not fish! Clover was heading towards the derelict house, but I managed to get a bit ahead of her and swipe her into the net. She gave up after that, but she muttered something about how it was unfair and not at all sporting, as I went back over the stile with her.
I've told them that I am not letting them out Ever Again unless the complete compliment of the Welsh Guards are around to, well, guard them. Failing that, DH. So they weren't best pleased with me this afternoon, when I only changed their water and gave them fresh food, after cleaning the hen house and collecting the eggs. Hah!
All for now then. Pryn da!
