1. I went for a run this morning. I've been meaning to go for a run for roughly a million years, but never quite worked out how to go about it. I know, I overthink things. The thoughts flittering around my mind are those such as: where would I run? Is it better to run on tarmac or grass? Will I be able to do it? By what date, exactly (and this is my ambition surfacing), would I be able to qualify for and enter a marathon? Which charity would I choose to run for? And then the more immediate concerns, such as, how do you make the transition between walking and running without looking as though you suddenly think you might be being chased? (Seriously though, I never see people begin to run - they are always already running, as though they came out of the womb doing it and haven't even stopped to consider other methods of getting about.)
And anyway, I know; who cares what you look like? I actually don't, but I am reminded of a comedy sketch I once saw about that moment when you're walking in the street and realise you need to be going in the opposite direction. Do you just immediately turn around with no apparent acknowledgement of your error, the comedian wondered, or do you slap your forehead, shake your head at yourself, rolling your eyes at passersby so that they too might acknowledge and share in your foolhardiness, admitting, by your dramatic display, that it's not the normal thing to just turn swiftly and change direction, and invalidating each and every step you've taken thitherto in the current trajectory as being wrong and misguided and wally-like? (I am very slightly mad and once, when walking to school, started pigeon-walking (you know, where you take tiny steps so that the heel of one foot touches the toes of the foot behind; no, I was rarely on time for school) then, intrigued by my new foot pattern (the alleyway was particularly monotonous), started mimicking my feet with my hands as I walked (a kind of 'air walk', if you will), before realising there was a girl innocently walking in the alley behind me, quietly bemused. I immediately resumed a more conventional walking motion, hands back down, strides at a more practical length (pigeon walking is quite wobbly when you're in a rush), and hoped she might think she'd merely imagined my non-conformist methods of getting to school... Apart from this episode in my life, I am frequently told I have a nice walk (again, 'nice walks' strike me as bizarre, but no more tangents for now), so should/could possibly, in theory, have a nice run. I also won a lot of races at school for sprinting and was always chosen to compete in the county sports day, but I'm showing off now (and it's irrelevant).
Anyway, yep, I went for a run. I ran up and down hills; mostly up, in hindsight; on grass and on tarmac, and on a lot of mud. It was fun! I was terrible (I'm flexible, strong, but lung power has room for improvement), but I'm promised by my younger brother that this is an inevitable and temporary affliction of beginner adult runners. I'm wondering now whether my body will change shape, if I keep this up, and how strange that would be, considering I haven't changed body shape since the age of 15/16. We shall (literally) see, I imagine.
2. The second thing I am unbelievably, perhaps unreasonably excited by, is the fact that I've FINALLY mastered making masala chai like I used to drink in India. Being prone to foul moods whenever I remember and think of the lack of it in my life, this is a massive cause for celebration. Now I know exactly how to do it I can whip up a brew whenever I fancy one. This makes me incredibly happy. (I still need to go to India ASAP though, even just for the Thalis.) ...Pestle & mortar-crushed spices (cloves, cinnamon sticks, black peppercorns, cardamom, dry-roasted ginger), a tablespoon of indian tea, milk and water in a pan boiled up, sugar..... luscious frothy, sweet heaven in a glass.
Oh, and I have some new photos from Drew Smith, taken in Oxfordshire recently. Thanks Drew! :)
