I had a 'moment' on Friday evening! A moment where afterwards I felt both somewhat gormless and yet elated, to a degree. Perhaps elated is too strong a word, but I was left giggling out loud. A short but sweet trip to the pub with the boys after getting off the plane early Friday evening and discussing bankers bonuses and inheritance tax, I then walked home with Chris. A wave goodbye at the gate and I needed to cross the road. Traffic coming in both directions, I did what I normally do...and ran across. And then I had my moment, a Forrest Gump moment to be accurate, but when I got across the road, I figured since I'd ran that far, I might as well just keep on runnin'. Which I did, all 200m to my front door. No pain, no discomfort, just the feeling of my legs and arms wakening from a long sleep and remembering what it feels like to run. For a brief moment I was in a place where I'd forgotten that I've not been running for so long, but wondering what it was that was making me giddy with joy, before realising what it was all about. I knew something was good, but didn't know what it was or why. You know, like the bit between that moment when you wake after a dream and before you've worked out who you are and where you are. That, my friends, was a special moment. An uncorrupted and pure expression of my sport, even though it lasted maybe a second or two, until I realised 'hey look, I'm running'. And that's when the giggling started.
I've long held in high regarding the legend that is Tom Baker. Slightly eccentric and more than a passing resemblance of my late dad, my brother and I worshipped him as Dr Who back in the day. My formative Dr Who experiences were with Jon Pertwee, but for my brother it was Baker. Like all school kids, he wrote to him only to rewarded with a signed photo. From that day to this, when I see Tom Baker, I almost regard him as a family friend, such was the effect that signed photo had on us two kids. Robert was perhaps more a Dr Who fan during that period than me, so much so he collected a lot of stuff, including a 12" Vinyl LP of sound affects from the BBC Radiophonic Workshop. It's hard to imagine any kid today would have as much fun with accessing sounds such as those in the way we had to back then, yet managing to inventively and seamlessly incorporate them in to our playing enjoyment. Deep resonating bassy pulses of noise. I heard them again yesterday, or sounds like them as I lay in the MRI scanner having my ankle looked in to...literally. I've had a scan before. To me, it's extraordinarily intimidating, and I'm only thankful I wasn't lying there, entombed in this futuristic casket, waiting for what lies beneath to be revealed as life changing news. But as I lay there, headphones piping in flamboyant organ music via lo-fi classic FM, a background noise of thrumming supercooled electromagnets as my slab glided effortlessly into the machine that will look deep in to my soul, presented at the alter of private health care...I thought of Tom Baker, and rather hoped he might help me get out of this predicament, sonic screwdriver at the ready. It was a very surreal experience. Results next week.
A visit to my mum today to listen to her case 'for' getting an iPad! It seems reasonable, I have to admit. I admire her spirit and drive regarding tech. She didn't present 'wants', but 'needs'. She's engaged in a hobby that is both creative and engaging. It's clearly her passion and I'm proud that she drives me to help her with her IT requirements, but at the same time it cripples me with guilt because I can't always be there to help her when she needs it. My mum has been in that house since I was four. Each visit tickles my childhood memories. But today, the memories were blasted with a bag of old school photos that had been dug out of the loft. Seeing some of those photos triggers a volley of sensory memories, smells, tastes, sounds. It's funny seeing such old photos of yourself. In some you see 'you', in others you see a stranger. It's been a curious weekend for childhood recollections. But without doubt, what caught me by surprise is the childlike joy I had by finding myself running home on Friday night. Silly, immature, giggling, childish. I miss that.
Five weeks since I last ran around!
