What's a week off work for, if not a spot of bouncing? I've been partaking of that sport today. It's typical, really, that the latest UK heatwave should end just in time for me to take some leave away from the (paid) work desk. In some ways, this is not a bad thing, because it gives me the excuse not to leave the house too much, and I can chain myself to my own computer desk at home instead. Just think how guilty I'd feel if it was wonderfully sunny outside. I wouldn't mind a bit of that, though.So - bouncing! What's that all about? Well, I'm supposed to be part of a Space Race, which involves walking to the moon in teams. I've been part of a work-based team doing this very thing since the end of January, wearing my pedometer at all times (except when sleeping), and I have been stepping (or yomping) away like a real trooper since then.
But it now seems that the bottom might have fallen out of this whole plan. Just when my bottom was looking particularly toned as well. It's motivation. There just doesn't seem to be enough motivation amongst the masses. I always knew it would probably take three years to reach the moon, and still I was prepared to surge forward into the great wild yonder.
Does that still not explain the bouncing? Well, one of these (as long as you put a bit of effort into it) is an extremely good way to clock up the steps. It's fantastic for dancing on. Easier on the knee and ankle joints, too. You have to start to think about these things at the age of 37.
It's not often I get out clubbing these days, so a living-room disco is a must, and the trampoline has to be an essential accessory. Perhaps even more vital than a mirrorball. I've been grooving away to 12"/80s/Dance and Floorfillers - Club Classics. What would I do without CD box sets? Turn up the bass, put on your bouncing boots and boogie ...
That's when I can actually get on the trampoline. It doubles as a cat bed, or so Frank the Cat thinks! It's the perfect size for him to sprawl out on or curl up to the curvy edges. Frank likes the trampoline so much he begrudges me using it, and I'm sure he'll start hiring it out to me by the minute soon, if only to safeguard his own position. Oh yes - that is (ahem) Flat Eric in the background. Remember him? Flat Eric is Sammy's (the other cat's) playmate. Don't ask! There are no pictures to accompany that story.