Injury and The Blockhead...

Hit me with your stupid stick, hit me… hit me.

Tell me this… would I, four weeks before Ironman Austria be seen with several glasses of wine inside me, playing a hybrid game of Dodgeball/British Bulldogs with a group of parents and kids in a pair of ill fitting sandals on a potholed campsite at 10pm at night?

Of course not.

So why on earth would I do it four weeks after and think that I wouldn’t go over on my ankle, it make a sound like a gunshot and swell to the size of a grapefruit.

Damn, my first injury of an otherwise perfect season and a nasty one to boot. But all my own doing.

It’s possibly the end of the season although I may come back for a few sprints at the back end. Ah well.

On to happier things. I’ve been camping this week with Erin and Alice. Fiona decided to stay in the 5* comfort of Old Thatch, drink wine and imagine the full glory of our bonding session.

Truth be told, we had a great time now that I’m back and reflecting on it. The girls were complete superstars and we had Jane (my sister in law) and her family right along side us. We ate appallingly, of course, mostly frying bacon or eating fish and chips. The nights were grossly uncomfortable and most things got damp in the wet. But that’s why people camp isn’t it?

Actually we had reasonable weather and Erin demonstrated her ever improving ability with the stills camera. I think she has a real talent and eye for compostition and you can see some of her shots alongside this week’s blog.

From the top… crappy colour photo from my iphone of my injury by me then Erin's efforts:
Empty beach, brother in law Guy and Emily, Guy and myself, high and dry trawler...

I’m writing this on Monday night as I’ve been out location hunting today for my upcoming TV commercials. Tuesday sees a day of more location scouting and a casting session, Wednesday a pre production meeting and then on Thursday we’re off to New York. Bring it on.

Film quote last week was:

"Don't worry darling, its just a small hat, belonging to a man of limited means, who lost a fight with a chicken."

It was uttered by the ultra-urbane Roger Moore in LIVE AND LET DIE.

Any offerings on this:

"It must be hard living your life off a couple of scraps of paper. You mix your laundry list with your grocery list you'll end up eating your underwear for breakfast"

Off to bed now to let my ankle rest and heal.

Oh but were it for sex and drugs and rock and roll :-)

Sleep tight, my lovelies...