We took a stroll after lunch today, as I’m trying to do *something* exercise-ish each day, and I slept this morning until the unspeakable Anne Atkins burst forth on Radio 4.
Killing two birds, etc., we wander through Pearson Park, stopping to see the ducks, and then encountered a chap in an electric wheelchair, looking as though he wanted to cross the road, and a rather confused looking woman behind the wheel of a Disco trying to work out what to do. It was clear that the wheelchair man was in trouble, so I asked if he needed any help – he did, his battery was flat. So I pushed him over the road, his chair carried him along the pavement, and then Pete pushed him up the ramp to his (thankfully) nearby retirement home. The chap could hardly breathe, nor speak, but reeked of cigarette smoke; I guess some people just never learn.
We were en route to Beverley Street swimming pool; it’s the nearest one to home, and I wanted to know how long it took to walk there (about 15 minutes, it turns out). Lovely place, built in 1903 – a real municipal baths, with dark green tiled walls, stained glass, etc. The pool looks nice too, so I must get off my arse and go swimming again – the walk there and back, together with a half hour swim, will be great exercise.
I’m writing this while waiting for roast veg to cook – aubergine, sweet potato, yellow pepper, butternut squash and garlic, with some middle eastern spice and sesame seeds. And next – Glee. Love it.