A bit of a wait between drinks in blog land as I've been away visiting my Dear Old Dad on Queensland... and nursing a very bung shoulder that is going to keep me away from anything like an aquatic ripple for the best part of five weeks.
Like I really needed that.
As was suggested to me by Ed Sloane I need to write something about the perils of cold water surfing.
More like the mixed perils of helping ladies on buses and daydreaming while taking your hood off, then going surfing while the two pings that became the problem became one big ping by paddling about and trying to pretend I'm twenty again.
So what is a ping?
Ping number one on the bus to the long term carpark at Melbourne airport, the lady standing next to me has a big back she can't get to so I dutifully stiff arm it off the rack, it's a heavy bugger... ping! in a tiny spot in my shoulder...ooh that didn't feel so flash, never mind, what a shame.
One week later after a surf at Winki, wandering through the carpark while trying to get my hood off with one hand, pulling distractedly, daydreaming, the hood neck down in the neck of the wetsuit creating suction that would make your eyes pop, then PING!, that really didn't feel flash at all and damn it's hard to get my arm out of the wetty without screaming.
A few days go by and the Big Wednesday with it but relatively Big Thursday with a bit of side chop is offering so I just have to give it a hit and the shoulder disassembles and I head off to the physio where I get the bad news.
Pic for today? I'm struggling so I might just go with my Sue about to chop onions.