Lazy Sunday Morning...

Sunday started grey and wet in an otherwise beautiful week. I was aware if Hubby getting out of bed to let the Pooch out but I drifted past that realisation into the realm of dreams and let him get on with it. It's Sunday. There's no rush. Clocks and schedules become more plastic …malleable… less rigid.

I don't know how much later I became aware of a tapping noise. Hubby was sitting up in bed with his laptop researching toys to get for his great nephew whose first birthday is next week. He smiled at me. I smiled back at him.

"I made you a cup of tea, but it's probably freezing now."

"Oh thanks Hun." I felt the cup on the nightstand beside me. There wasn't a trace of warmth in it. "Sorry Babe, it's even too cold for me, but the thought was lovely. And I appreciate you not waking me up..."

He went back to tippity-tapping and I opened my laptop and see what'd been happening while I slept. As I checked out blogs and made new friends on Facebook, I kept thinking that I really should get up and do my morning speed-walk. I know myself and my shortcomings only too well to put it off. As Hubby got up and went downstairs and I promised myself I'd just read this one last article and then get up.

Well maybe I'll read this other one too...

Hubby arrived back several articles later with breakfast. I was torn. Part of me was horrified because I really don't like to eat before I exercise. But most of me thought "how lovely of you" - because it is lovely and I'm a very lucky girl. So I ate my breakfast in bed as one or two early bloggers start to post.. I heard the two youngest children playing downstairs. I didn't even know they were awake.

After about a half hour I realised that I had to get on with it. The rain had stopped and the sky was clearing. Much better to exercise in the cold than in the midday sun. It was, by now, heading toward 11am, about four hours past my usual walking time. I like to walk when nobody's around. Speed-walking is inherently embarrassing. It's like fast waddling. Not a spectator sport. But it's Sunday, right? Everyone has a lazy morning on Sunday.

Not my local cricket team apparently. It's not quite Village Cricket season yet but apparently there's an awful lot of preparation to be done in getting the pitch ready. So every indigenous male over the age of 16 was in our Recreation Ground strimming, mowing and rolling the ground while the oldfellas were sanding the peeling paint off the pavillion in readiness for a shiny new coat.

It was like Grand Central Station. Only a really English version of it. Outdoors. And I had to make five speedy, waddly circuits of it.

"Morning"

"Morning"

"You're keen aren't you?"

"Training for the marathon are you?"

"Shouldn't you be lining up in London right now?"

"Can I attach the roller to so you can save me a job?"

I nodded, smiled and quipped back as I waddled past. Then I did it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

There is no dignity in fast-paced walking. I do it because I am carrying way too many extra pounds on a frame that is creaking. My hot, sweaty, red face may be result of my increased heart rate but it could just as easily be a biproduct of my embarrassment. When doing it I'd really rather be ignored. Despite the cloudy sky I wore my sunglasses. I tried to look forward and not engage with them but such coldness is completely incongruous with the polite, friendliness of Village Cricket.

It was a relief to pass them the final time. By now the sun had broken through and I was regretting wearing a sweatshirt. I would normally have just taken it off but I didn't fancy compounding my mortification with flashing my white belly (because tee-shirts always ride up when you're pulling a sweater over your head) and worse still, my ginormous bra for keeping the puppies from jiggling while I'm wiggling. But I soldiered on because I'm committed to this regime and more importantly I told the guy with the strimmer that I was doing five circuits so I had to keep going.

As I left the field and all the industrious cricketers behind I wondered briefly if I was going to be the topic of conversation when they were having their tea and sandwiches later. Never mind I thought, putting it behind me as I marched through the gate, I'll just go straight home and get on with my stretching and toning. My legs were aching and sore and the persistent bugger of a blister on my left heel was giving me gip but as long as I get it all done it'll have been worth it.

As I opened the door to my house I was greeted by Hubby smiling warmly at me.

"Perfect timing Darling. I've just made you a cup of coffee."

My Hubby is just so lovely.

I never did get the rest of my exercises done.

Ah well it's Sunday. Different rules apply on the Day of Rest. It's probably better to adopt a more malleable frame of mind ... y'know … less rigid.