The Fat Bloke Diaries
Episode Thirty-
And did Shaun’s feet in these strange times
walk upon England’s parks so green?
Of course they did. With weather like we’ve been
having recently it’s almost been my patriotic duty to tread my nation’s glorious
greensward. And it’s felt so good to have soft fragrant grass beneath my feet rather
than the unforgiving surface of Barnsley council’s finest tarmac that I’ve wanted
to get out for several gentle strolls.
Unfortunately I’ve had to keep my running
training up so that’s meant I’ve usually been pounding the streets, but then came
the day I’ve been waiting for. My training plan simply said ’90 minute walk’. I knew
exactly what to do.
There’s a sculpture park near where I live. It is to my lasting
shame that I have never set foot in its grounds, but this 90 minute walk gave me
the perfect chance to rectify that.
They have several Henry Moore pieces. I’ve heard
of him. And an Antony Gormley; I’ve heard that name too, they talk about him on The
Archers. There’s also lots of other works in various states of comprehensibility
by people that I’ve never heard of. But best of all, they have a lake. Regular readers
will know that I’ve developed a delight of running around lakes. There’s a good reason
for this. They’re pretty flat. You don’t get too many lakes clinging to the side
of mountains.
But I wouldn’t be running around this one. Walking is so much less
stressful than running. There’s no pressure to better your previous time, or beat
any other runners. You can take your time while walking, take in your surroundings.
It’s quite possible to spot a rabbit in the distance while walking, gently amble
up to the creature, watch it watching you watching it, and then pass on your way,
all without disturbing the beast or breaking stride. Try that while running and I
guarantee that your even and dramatic footfall would have you watching Benjamin Bunny’s
fluffy tail diving into the nearest bush long before you can start peeling the carrots
and onions.
The sculptures are, at the very least, interesting. To some people they’re
dreams and nightmares made real, physical poetry. To others they’re twisted bits
of metal. To the local flock of sheep they’re just very expensive scratching posts.
The growing lambs are a sure sign that the best weather of the year is finally here.
And lots of people who started the New Year with all the best intentions to run are
back out on the streets again, their lycra tops and shorts shining as brightly as
the moment they came out of the Christmas wrap.
On this particular day though running
was, for me, not a priority. It was hot enough just walking. We’re officially in
the middle of a heat wave, and I don’t mean that we’re mingling with the ’70’s funk/disco
pioneers. When the mercury rises this high it definitely puts a stop to my Boogie
Nights.
It's been far too hot for fat blokes. Just waddling to the chip shop has
been too much effort. How the women that work there manage to fulfil this excellent
public service in this weather I simply do not know. But happily I avoided their
delicious yet deadly fare. It was too hot to do anything except wander around the
fields looking at the sculptures and the sheep. But the heat was still pretty much
unbearable. The lambs had the right idea, sheltering beneath a bronze that might
have represented a woman in the glorious agony of childbirth. Or maybe a battleship.
My yellow shirt became first spotted with several spots of sweat. These slowly merged
together into a strange Rorschach inkblot. I think it was either a butterfly or a
deep pan pepperoni pizza; whichever, it pretty soon blurred into a series of huge
soaking patches. I wasn’t running, but my back was. I could feel rivulets starting
from the nape of my neck and finishing somewhere around what my Granny would have
called my ‘fundament’. I know where she meant, but it didn’t feel much fun.
Although
it was hot – too hot – it was fabulous to enjoy the Great British countryside. Long
may it remain as large and available as possible.
We’ve all heard of Carbon Offsetting
-
This got me wondering. Can ‘larger gentlemen’ do something
similar? If I pay my really healthy mate to run a marathon in my name, can I eat
several extra pies, safe in the knowledge that my total Fat Footprint is being lowered?
Lard Offsetting. It has a nice ring to it.
© Shaun Finnie 2009