As I was walking George when I should have been in slimming class I decided I'd do some jogging. In short bursts - 10 walking 10 jogging. Seconds that is. As long as the path was flattish. And not too muddy or uneven. And there was no-one around. So I did.
George hung back with a bemused 'What on earth are you doing, you stupid woman?' look on his face. When I reached the top of the hill and was still panting even though I'd not jogged since the bottom I decided for once George was right: I am not made for jogging.
I am made for sitting and a'rocking and eating chocolate.
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I've mentioned 'Bob' before. He lives in the wood over the tip and we often see him when we're out. I always say 'good morning' and I consider I'm doing well if I get a grunt in return. This morning he smiled! I couldn't see his mouth, which is covered in hair but his eyes crinkled.
I was smiling too for the rest of the walk, even when it rained on me.