Unexpected Calls

In an age where junk calls are so common, it has become routine to screen that unknown number before answering it. And who would call back that persistent missed number and risk the pain of the premium rate?
When I received a missed call from an unknown mobile number on Sunday I thought at first it was simply a wrong number. Then they tried again.
Ready to put the phone down on a foreign cold caller wanting all my personal details (honesty, how many people actually still fall for that?), I answered.
Any time a Policeman introduces themselves to you, you know it's not going to be good.
A much beloved elderly relative had died and as I recently wrote a letter that was found by the police I was who they called.
As upsetting as it was to get that news it has reaffirmed a little faith and reminded me that newspapers always tell you the bad stories not the better ones.
The Constable who spoke to me was very polite and sympathetic while at the same business like enough to get the information he needed.The reason the police got involved? The neighbours were concerned as they had not heard my relative moving around (old terraces carry noise so easily).
It is comforting to know that as a whole people do still care and I am grateful of that fact.

Life is now a little up in the air - everything is on hold until we have firm information, dates and locations for everything we have to do next.
While this goes on I must remind myself that life for the rest of us goes on and that means day to day practicalities still abound .



Continuing as normal means following my exercise commitments and to that end last night I topped on my Nano-Gremlin dose. I am definitely feeling it today, my muscles are thankfully more tired than sore but still I know about it.
That was my weekly session at Defence Lab, tiring, de-stressing and educational (everyone should learn self-defence even if they hope to never need it). It's good to feel the sweat again.
I am the slowest runner and I need to take more rest breaks than everyone else but everyone has to start somewhere.
Never be afraid to go for it - you will never get fit if you worry about what other people think. One day you will be fit and fab and others will be intimidated by your success.


Terrorising communities is dirty work, today is bath day for those pre-historic ASBO carrying yobs the Dinosaurs. The lakes and reservoirs are choke full of them with their giant sponges and building sized bottles of bubble bath. Where do you think the rain is coming from? Dinosaurs never remember their towels and an Sauropod shaking itself dry is enough drench towns (and never ever dare one to dive bomb, tsunamis are caused that way).


FraidyKat Runs - for Kindness
Fast Day

Episode 404 - Revenge of the HTML

I venture now into a realm of geekhood previously uncharted in my experience of computers.
Due to the hated God Economics, it has been decided in the household that someone should turn web designer, and I have been nominated due to theoretically having more time to learn the black art and perform the ritual sacrifices to the spirits that live within the computer.
I have therefore been forced to learn the language of HTML - the code behind most web pages that make them look pretty and do what you want them to. The concept is easy enough (I won't in to it here because 1. I'm far from an expert and 2. This is certainly not that sort of blog.) but it get complicated quickly, a bit like creating equations in spreadsheets. Unravelling things when it goes wrong is like trying rewind a ball of wool after four hyperactive kittens have had it for an hour (been there, done that - please don't ask).
I only broach this subject here after having a hissy-fit at my computer earlier when trying to edit a mistake on my last post.
As it turns out, using red text for emphasis is not a good idea when you have a green background - Thanks to my colour-blind partner for pointing that out to me! - edit has instead used blue for clarity.
The problem was an HTML glitch that was trying to do three conflicting things at once and causing a nightmare on incomprehensible nonsense.
Fortunately, the little dabbling I have so far done in the dark art was enough for me to spot the problem and fix it. Yay for new found geekability!


Back to the nominal topic of this blog (normalish service being resumed):
After a decidedly disrupted week I have managed only 2 fast days and still managed to lose 1lb.
I could say only 1lb but that would belittle those days ability to reverse the effects of homemade cookies (yum) and dining out on fish and chips.
Perhaps this was aided by the session of martial arts which has caused me to re-jig my fast days (intensive exercise on virtually no calories? Erm, not for me thanks). Either I shall not be put off, even if I am still too chicken to tell my family what I am doing(another diet, is it good for you, blah, blah, blah).

To exercise, it has been martial arts and a little core strength (nothing fancy just the basics, engage core, crunches, leg raises etc).
I do have a bowling ball carrier (a miraculously fitting sports bra discovered lurking in the back of a drawer, thanks to post-pregnancy exercise version 1) so it's just waiting for the 30mph winds and intermittent driving rain to subside and I will be back to cracking the pavement as I thud down it in an approximation of an elephant jogging.
Honestly, I'm not a fair weather runner but I don't think running in severe storm conditions is conducive to anything more than pneumonia.


Today's forecast is: Low zombie activity.
Prevailing winds are slowing the rotting pestilence whilst flooding give rises to a fascinating practical observation - can zombies swim or do they just walk a long at bottom? And if they get washed out to sea and eaten will we get a plague of zombie sharks?


FraidyKat Runs - away from computers
96.2

It's not punishment

I woke up this morning for a fast day and had a diet related epiphany.
For most of my adult life, like so many others, I have been on one or other diet with varying success. Some sensible, some faddy, all bourne of desperation to fit the cultural norm and somehow reach the health nirvana of immortality. And of course to join the smug ranks of the slim with the perfect number on that evil judgemental chart of BMI.
These desperate measures include:

• Reduced calorie - sure it works, but you spend your life counting and I am just not obsessive enough to stict to it for more than a couple of weeks.Best for: frustrated mathematicians and those who love weighing and measuring.
• Reduced fat - I lost 1 1/2 stone on this one. Yes there is still counting but the numbers are lower and there are lots of zero fat foods for when you are hungry but have used your fat allowance for the day. Use caution, it is possible to over eat and unless you are careful you can stall completely or even gain weight by gorging. Best for: Simple counters and those who don't like butter.
• Low Carb (including but not limited to Atkins)-  I lost a stone on this one. It takes time and you need to prepare a lot of food (although it is easier with lots more low carb snacks and meals on the market since I last did it), but you do get to eat a lot. The downside is getting bored of the limited diet but it does quickly reduce your capacity for sweet things. Best for: Carnivores and dairy lovers.
• Slimfast - Just a glorified low calorie option really. The shakes and foods are nice enough to taste but it's really easy to go over board with your evening meal.Best for: Busy day timers and calorie counters.
• Meal replacement - There are so many but they all really boil down to the same thing once you get passed the name (Exante, Cambridge, Lighterlife etc). In theory easy to follow but unless friends and family are following it too, it's such an anti-social diet. You can hardly sit down to a meal with your shake while everyone else tucks in to glorious mounds of food! Best for: The anti-social and those with iron, no make that tungsten carbide, willpower.

Of course there are countless others in the diet ether and a life time is not long enough to sample them all. Needless to say the defining feature of these is deprivation. There is always something you are not allowed or you need to limit and it always feels like punishment.
That is why, ultimately, I have given up with them all. I love food and make no apology for that. Why should I? I am a human being (well, some may dispute that but I am almost sure my parents are human), loving food is coded into our DNA and we live in such a productive and generous world.

But I seriously digress, my epiphany: It's not punishment.
Losing weight is good for me, the health benefits, the faster runs, the excuse to buy a whole new wardrobe of clothes!
Losing weight should not be because I have been bad and need to be punished back to goodness. That makes any diet a Victorian prison with hard labour as standard, and who would not wish to escape at the earliest opportunity?
Following the plan is barely 5% of it, 95% is mental.
I am not punishing myself, I am treating myself. I am treating myself to a better, faster, healthier me.
It's not about deprivation, it's about treats.


Far away in a distant land there are wild celebrations. The last of the zombies have just been evicted, forced through a shimmering iridescent gateway to another place. But where have they gone?
Why can I hearing groaning? And why can I smell rotting meat?


FraidyKat Runs - for treats

Low expectations

It is a sad reflection on the state of the nation that after my 2 month wait for a physiotherapy appointment, when I complained at my lack of flexibility and strength, the basic test I completed led my physio to say she was impressed!
What I had managed was to reach down and touch the middle of my shins. Perhaps I aim my expectations unnaturally high, I like a farmer shooting a rising pheasant, but I personally believe a healthy youngish person should at least be able to touch their toes, if only just.
I was then shown some core strength exercises that I am already doing and told to come back in three weeks.

When considering the low expectations of the physiotherapist I found myself reflecting how remarkable it is that Great Britain did so well in the 2012 olympics and that we are now having our best ever Winter Olympic Games.
What variety of potato has been crossed with our rampantly out of control, weedlike,  Couch variety to create Olympic champions? Whatever it is we should be seriously encouraging its growth with a generous layering of childhood exposure fertiliser.

Back to the diet, Life has interfered, as she inevitably does with all good plans. The result is only 1 fast day completed so far this week. Although I will be fasting again tomorrow I hold out little hope for weight loss. Still, it is surprisingly easy to complete the fast days so I will carry on regardless and soon will be running again (I swear I will get there and be on the road again before Easter).

I have very few nano-gremlins left and the zombies can smell it. I hear their moans grow louder. Must exercise before they get to me. Zombies are evil ultra marathon runners, no good at speed but bottomless stamina.

FraidyKat runs - for potatoes

Endorphins & Nano Gremlins

Painfully addictive, pain being the important word here, is what the glorious rush of endorphins is. I had almost forgotten the masochistic joy of pushing a tired body until it hurts and then pushing it that little further to ensure that post-exercise high.
It has reminded me that my attempts to exercise this year have been, up until last night, quite frankly a pathetic effort.
Until you push yourself you can't improve yourself.

So what was I doing last night to feed my addiction?
After being the unsuspecting victim of a sales pitch mugging while out doing a bit of shopping at the weekend I found myself arriving at a local sports centre for a free taster session. Preposterously, the martial art I chose to try is a modern one created in America, in Hollywood of all places, but I decided to give it a try regardless on the grounds that even Americans have to get it right sometimes.
So I entered the sports hall and lined up for a session of Defence Lab. It was structured, energetic and logical, and exhausting. Needless to say I will be going again next week. At long last I have discovered a replacement for the group that is now over a hundred miles away in a different county (difficult to attend but not impossible if you happen have too much money and time on your hands - sadly I am in short supply of both). It's only taken three attempts and some pretty hopeless excuses of martial arts clubs to find one that has potential to help me get fit and vaguely human again.

Unfortunately, endorphins attract nano-gremlins. Modern medicine dismisses them and blames toxic chemical build ups but I know the truth. The terrible pain that hobbles you after a hard training session, the stiffness that ages you by torturous decades, that's the nano gremlins. They are attracted by the smell of endorphins and sweat and once you're infected it can take days to shift them. All you can do is keep moving and do your best to force them out - they don't like muscles flexing, it squashes them.



For now it seems those soulless zombies are being held at bay, even they don't like nano-gremlins, I think they taste bad, and although it is contrary to reason apparently even zombies can get stomach ache. 
So that is the reason for the zombie explosion - so few people are exercising now the nano-gremlins that once held them at bay are becoming an endangered species and that delicate unnatural balance of nano-gremlin v zombie has been upset.
People of the world unite, train hard, play hard, work hard, give the nano-gremlins a home and drive the evil zombie hoard to extinction! Or at least chronic gastritis.


FraidyKat Runs from Zombies

Where am I?

"Press any key."
"Okay which one is Any?"

Now a question. It's hot, noisy, crowded, there are squeals, yells and occasional distressing smells. Where am I?
Hell? A foreign airport departure lounge? Saturday shopping during sales?
No, in fact the correct answer is I am at a Christening.
Any one who says no one goes to church any more has not been to this one. Apart from a few of us risking the wrath of God,  virtually everyone there packing the pews was a regular and the reverend  was someone you wouldn't hide behind a sofa to avoid.
Never the less, popularity can be its own sin when church hall becomes a toddlers paradise of adult leg slalom, the gold medal going to the child who can scream the loudest when accidently knocked over by a gossiping adult.
During this junior olympic event parents must attempt to catch their offspring for long enough to attempt the discrete nappy check in order to locate the above mentioned distressing smell (bonus points for appropriate "it's not my child" smugness post check).

Back on diet topic: Alternate day fasting has miraculously allowed me to both have my cake and eat it. In the last week I have lost 3lb, that's 1lb for each fast day. I am amazed.
I shall therefore be continuing with this approach to weight and supplementing it with a new martial arts class.
First class is on Monday - if I enjoy it and think it good then it shall become part of the routine and get entered into the training plan.
I am hopeful but not convinced, having been disappointed on the last 2 attempts to find a good replacement to my old kickboxing group (if I had not moved I would never have left them).
So many people end up at expensive substandard martial arts clubs because they don't think to try more than one. Free trials are there to be taken advantage of - not all blackbelts are equal and not all blackbelts can teach. Don't the fooled by a glossy leaflet and a funky uniform - if they have to spend a lot on advertising they will be expensive and probably not be any good. (I shall now gracefully dismount the soapbox and carry on about my business)

Snowdrops blooming in grass verges, the first lambs chasing about in the field. There is an early surge in life force this year but there are creatures to whom this joyous energy is merely food. Hark, I hear their moans. The zombies begin their hunting shuffle.

Fraidykat runs - for cake
96.7

Jelly!

Science may tell us otherwise, but careful experimental research leads me to the conclusion that muscles when not used turn to jelly - although I have yet to conclude what flavour I suspect it to be lard.

This I have discovered when going back to doing home exercises including sit-ups and press-ups. Once there was a time when I could sicken others by getting down and doing 100 sit-ups without blinking (proper sit ups in the middle of the room, not cheating and hooking my legs under heavy furniture). Press ups were a little more effort but 50 was easily doable.
Now 5 is more like it.
Okay so carrying children does wreck the abdominal muscles but this is nothing short of ridiculous and just a tad depressing. It's going to take more than a quick tune up to fix this mess.

Dedication, commitment, hard work. I may as well add blue sky thinking, drive to succeed and versatility to that cliché of middle management sales rep linguistics, but the truth is I won't get back to where I was without some serious effort.

For the next two weeks I propose to keep dieting and doing basic strength work in the living room. Nothing exotic, the exercise ball and resistance work to reverse some of the atrophy. (A side note on exercise balls - never go economy, "anti-burst" is a figment of the marketers imagination as my 70kg partner can testify. Nearly broken wrists and a lesson learned, professional grade  are worth the extra few £)
After that I will, I hope, have clothes that fit and my 30 week novice to marathon plan will be put into action.

 And back to that strange other world in my head:
 

  Vaughan watched helplessly as the woman was rapidly stunned by the Arena guards and dragged back out of sight. He stood abruptly. “Our business is concluded, the outcome good for us both.” the words were a traditional closing to a deal. “I take my leave now.”

“You won't stay for the rest of the matches?”

“Will any rival the Ensensa? I would stay if I could but I have little time for pleasures when business calls.”

The Deethza was surprised but he had got a fair price for his goods and the odd alien knew the right platitudes to not cause offence by leaving before the end, in fact the crowd was noticeably thinning now the Ensensa had fought.

Vaughan could not leave fast enough, blending in with the other aliens making their way out of the Arena through the gloom of a long sloped tunnel and bursting into the welcome light of the dusty street. He side-stepped back away from the busy thoroughfare and into a narrow alley. Only there did he let himself lean against a wall and let out a heavy breath.

“Is everything alright, sir?” The voice at Vaughan's ear was genuinely concerned.

Vaughan turned to face the man who like him was hidden under a cloak and breathing mask. “We've got an 829.”

829 was the standing order for all serving personnel to rescue any human slave discovered with extreme prejudice. No matter what they did to facilitate the rescue no soldier would ever be prosecuted by their own people and they would always be protected from prosecution by any other race who felt wronged by their actions. The order had been responsible for blood baths in the past but it kept humans safe from the roving slave dealers when it was more trouble and danger than a slave was worth to take them as prize. Finding a human slave was therefore very rare and something Vaughan and his crew had not encountered in nearly two years travelling from one illicit arms deal to the next.

“Here? I didn't think anyone here even knows what a human looks like.”

“They don't know they've got a human, or if they do they're not advertising it. I hope you're up for a challenge.”

“You know me.”

“Good.” Vaughan did in deed know the Sergeant at his side, he was a special forces veteran who never shied away from a fight and neither did his small team of expert soldiers. Vaughan's little band of protectors and helpers, they posed as the crew of the small merchant ship at the Intelligence Officer's command and were never phased by anything. “Because this 829 is a pit fighter.”

There was a look from the Sergeant but he knew better than to say anything in the open. They were going to have to break into the Arena, possibly the most secure building on the planet, to rescue the enslaved human. All slaves were routinely kept secure but those who fought in the pit kept doubly so, they were the ones trained to fight making them dangerous to their owners but they were also expensive commodities making them a target for theft. They were breaking into a maximum security prison and bank rolled into one.

In her gloomy cell, the Ensensa lay on the bed and concentrated on breathing. She had several ribs broken and one arm shattered as well as countless slices and bruises all over her body, some from the last fight, some still unhealed from fights before. The Arena's medic had patched her worse wounds while she was still unconscious but her owner forbade the giving of painkillers of any kind believing they promoted weakness.

It would not be long now until her final fight, she had too many injuries to make a fast recovery and no fighter was given long between fights. If they were out of the fighting for too long the crowds lost interest, the owners lost money. Besides, it was well known that the death fight was the most profitable one when staged properly, even a crippled fighter could promote large bets if they were a past winner. She tried not to think about it, she tried not to think of much at all any more and was so good at it she could barely remember a time when her life was not all kill or be killed. Surely there was a better way of living than being a macabre entertainment for amoral crowds but what it was she did not know only to be sure it somehow involved less pain.

She was thirsty, she needed water, but the drinking bowl was across the room and going to it would only provoke a landslide of agony. After some sleep, she would try for water after getting some sleep.

Time passed. Not quite asleep but not awake she lay on the sterile slab that was her bed until it dawned on her that the light was wrong. Her room was dim as it always was but the corridor was also dark, lit only by the sparse emergency lights. Had the power gone off? If it had would the doors still be locked?

She tried to get off the bed but landed in a painful heap on the ground and was still trying to stand up when her door opened. She caught sight of a shadowy figure stepping in and automatically raised for a lunge.

Vaughan caught the woman easily. “It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm getting you out of here.”

She looked up with incomprehension. She heard the words but did not understand them. It took a while for her to realise the soft words were in a language she had not heard uttered in a long time, the words of her native tongue.

“Come on, let's get you somewhere safe.” Vaughan propped the woman up, holding her close and dragging her out of the pitiful cell.

From inside other cells came the cries of many slaves, some calling insults, some threats and some pleading for their freedom. However much Vaughan would have liked to set them all free he knew he could not for many reasons. The chief of those was the lack of time, they only had a few minutes to get clear of the place before the back up generator came on line and all the defences were reactivated. The roaming guards would not return, Vaughan's men had made sure of that, but there were other ways the slaves were prevented from escaping, nasty ways.

They had only minutes and too many of those had been wasted finding the right cell, they had to get out but the nearest exit was on the next floor.

The woman struggled up the sloped corridor, she had little strength, relying heavily on Vaughan to keep her moving.

He could see the door with Sergeant Grantham waiting silently at it barely fifty yards away, they were almost out.

The main lights abruptly flicked back on.

Moments later the woman let out a guttural noise and collapsed to the floor, her one good arm clawing at the metal collar around her neck. The secondary defence had just come back on, any slave out of their cell without their owner's permission would suffer the agony that was the pain-giver band. Remotely activated, a pain-giver sent a wave of energy directly into the nervous system and set individually for each slave at the right frequency to cause a pain so great it was virtually paralysing.

Vaughan swore, doing his best to drag her back up from the floor with little success. “Come on, we're nearly there. We're nearly outside. Stay with me.”

Through the pain she heard little. She knew her rescuer was speaking but she could not understand what he said. Blackness was creeping in now, after the injuries already suffered the pain-giver was just too much.

FraidyKat runs - away from jelly

Have you seen my sanity?

Have you seen my sanity?
I seem to have misplaced it somewhere, possibly behind the sofa, but the frustrating thing is I am not sure if I would know it if I saw it.

How have I come to the conclusion that my sanity is missing? Well, I am currently on a diet that restricts me to around 600 calories a day three days a week and I am not craving food on those restricted days. Me, the craving Queen, the woman who runs to make room for chocolate.
'First to the buffet table, last to leave', the motto of a glutton who does not have a time she cannot eat. What strange transformation has occurred in a few short days to make me not want for chocolate or sweets, to turn down crisps because I don't fancy them and to think warm thoughts about my diet shakes when I am on a free day when I can eat anything.
(Admittedly there is currently a cake baking in the oven but see this not as a craving to eat cake, it is more a craving to bake - I am one of the breed of bakeophiles. The only downside to this diet is no cooking three days a week.)

Perhaps this is it, perhaps this is that grail of diets I have been waiting for. Not the easy route, I do get hungry I will not lie about that, but easily doable.
Most diets for me are like running uphill over sand dunes but this is that woodland trail - I must watch my step, I don't want to trip, but the scenery is good and the run a pleasant challenge. There are far worse things to face.
If this works as it should be in my running gear very soon.

And praise be, for those who run with bowling balls and dislike black eyes I have discovered that the very shop I got my maternity bras from stock sports bras for the chest heavy.
In the next week or so I shall therefore be toddling off to the little big bra shop for a fitting and perhaps be freed from the pain of the bounce.





And deep in the recesses of my mind and on another world: 
With his face obscured by a heavy breathing mask Sean Vaughan could only hope his eyes did not give him away. His current companions were not human and were not used to dealing with humans so he suspected they would not understand the smaller emotional signals that any fellow of his own species would see very quickly.Normally, negotiations with the alien dealers were calm affairs, his cool head and quick tongue were indispensable assets but this was a different situation and he was more than a little put off by the surroundings.

It was not a new deal, his stock in trade was dodgy arms dealers, doing his part to take illegal and immoral weapons out of circulation before they could be used against other humans, but in this case the dealer had suggested somewhere very different to take the negotiations and it was not somewhere Vaughan ever wanted to be. Why he had agreed to it he really did not know. Trading in arms was never cheap and often, when things were not entirely legal, it was customary to use an intermediary to launder the money, most often that meant a meeting in the back of an office somewhere or a back room of a drinking house, but this time the dealer apparently wanted to impress Vaughan. The alien had been told the pedigree of his new client and decided to make a show of his local importance to the mysterious player, so Vaughan had found himself being shown to a ringside seat at the backwater planet's only Arena.

Only the more lawless and less favourable planets had Arena's, only those planets where slavery was permitted and even they did not all accept the use of slaves as gladiators. It was a terrible fate for a slave who never deserved such an horrific death, for unlike the ancient gladiators of Earth there was no chance of earning your freedom from an Arena, there was only a death sooner or later at the hand of another slave or a wild beast thrown in for added sport.

A lot of money was spent at the Arena, the many aliens watching bet heavily on their favourite fighters so Arena owners were always well monied making them a good location for laundering so long as you were prepared to give a healthy cut of your profits for the honour.

Vaughan's newest associate was clearly showing off, ringside seats cost a small fortune and laundering fees were high but the extravagance was not having the desired effect. Vaughan felt as though he was in real danger of throwing up. He did his best to concentrate on the deal, to ignore the blood and the screams from the ring, the deaths of many slaves while the crowd bayed without mercy. There was nothing he could do for them with armed guards lining the walls, as much as he wanted to stop the suffering he was helpless to do anything but watch.

The dealer, a slack jawed furry Deethza, was a regular at the Arena, he enjoyed the sport of it and could be guaranteed to spend much of his cash on bets, considering himself a good judge of who would live or die when they entered the sand covered floor of the arena below them. He had conducted many deals there mixing business and pleasure to give his clients a taste of the high life he loved, but he had no idea of the effect it was having on the client he had been told was a hardly arms supplier to lawless mercenaries.

After an excruciating hour they finally came to a bargain and a hard currency transfer took place. Vaughan handed a bag of credit chips to one of the bundled up Arena heavies who walked away wordlessly. The broad creature would take the money behind the scenes where a percentage would be subtracted before fresh chips were given to the dealer. The weapons, a stolen crop of rifles, would be sent to Vaughan's small cargo ship the next day.

But just when the Deethza should have been waiting anxiously for his cash he instead shifted in his seat, leaning forward towards the safety screen. “The Ensensa. I've been waiting for this fight for weeks.” he spoke excitedly, his squeaky voice only just inside Vaughan's hearing range. “They say it is a Demon, it has more kills to it's name than any other fighter in Arena history.

Dutifully, Vaughan too leant forward. “Ensensa?” he asked. He was fluent in Uni-dialect, the universal trading language, but past that his linguistics were basic.

“Red Demon. It has red tentacles on it's head and white skin that ripples with flame beneath it. No one knows what it really is.”

“Really?” Vaughan had to pretend he was interested when all he really wanted was to leave. The bodies of the slaves from the last fight were being dragged out of the Arena still, their blood smearing tracks through the sand. They were aliens, it was not the same as watching a human die, but they were sentient creatures and Vaughan felt guilty just sitting there even when knew he was there ultimately to save lives.

“This is why we came here, business is, but to watch the Ensensa fight is not missable.” The Deethza was obviously excited.

There was a roar from the crowd as one of the small doors opened and a figure stalked out into the Arena floor.

Vaughan gasped.

The announcer cried out above the noise from the spectators, shouting the impressive credentials of the Ensensa, the fights won against all manner of opponents armed and unarmed, it was a career of bloody violence spanning four times as long as an average slave survived.

Vaughan could only stare as the Ensensa was joined in the ring by an Atresion Bear, a creature that had more in common with an Ogre of myth than a bear, standing nine feet tall and a mass of slobbering teeth, muscle and fat. The Ensensa though was no Fire Demon, it was something far more dangerous, something Vaughan had only encountered a few times before.

Earlier in human explorations of space the emphasis of search efforts had been on mining, on supplies rather than pure colonisation, but so many worlds that were rich in needed metals and minerals were inhospitable to humans. There were fierce debates, ethics and morality, religion and science, arguments and violence but in the end a small group of people decided against all odds to take action and broaden human horizons beyond either evolution or God given form so those much needed planets could be mined and the supplies sent back to a needy Earth. A planet's atmosphere could be manipulated with surprising ease, in the short term humans could use breathing apparatus and manufacture their air, but it was gravity that was the stumbling block, gravity crushing down leaving humans helpless. The people who chose to take action were some of the worlds best geneticists and what they created were still technically humans but humans with the gift of withstanding incredible forces that would crush anyone without their enhanced inheritance. There were normal humans out there who called them monsters or, ironically, demons, but Vaughan was one of the many who saw them as just physically strong humans, like him people who had no more control over their DNA than they did over who their parents were. They had done a great service to the species and continued to do that service in spite of the fundamentalists, the so called Purists, wanting any genetically modified persons to be sterilised and isolated. They looked a little different to everyone else, broader and highly muscled but they were still people and they still had the right to be treated humanely, something the slave takers clearly did not understand.

The Ensensa had long red hair trailing in messy dreadlocks and the palest white skin mottled by countless freckles. Like a Celtic warrior of ancient history she was fearless and bold.

Finally, Vaughan found his voice. “She's a Hig.” he spoke to no one in particular using the accepted slang for the High Gravity Humans. “Jesus, how did she end up here?”

Luckily, the Deethza was so wrapped up in the contest he did not notice the whispered words from his companion.

To his own horror Vaughan identified the woman as injured before the fight even began and he was terrified for her, he could not take his eyes off her as the bloody contest began.

The Atresion had razor sharp claws and bellowed angrily. It had not been fed, it had been cooped up in a small pen and then poked and prodded through an entrance into a space stinking of fear and death. It only had killing on its mind when it spotted the small prey in front of it.

The Ensensa let out her own snarling cry, launching at the knife thrown into the ring to aid her fight and wasting no time attacking the foe.

Barely a minute later the Atresion was dead.

The Ensensa screamed hate at the crowds as they screamed their approval at her. She was blooded, in pain and enraged. She spied her owner high in the crowd, smiling faintly from his prime seat, basking the in glow of owning such a profitable slave. She narrowed her eyes and ran, at the last moment leaping unnaturally high and gaining footing on a narrow ledge, pushing herself higher, throwing all her weight into a killing blow.

The cruel knife was left quivering in the safety screen and the Ensensa dropped back to the sand.

Vaughan watched helplessly as the woman was rapidly stunned by the Arena guards and dragged back out of sight. He stood abruptly. “Our business is concluded, the outcome good for us both.” the words were a traditional closing to a deal. “I take my leave now.”

FraidyKat Runs away from Sanity

96.4 

What is in a Name?

What is in a name?
I ponder this question as I delve deeper into the mire of dieting and diet products.
For something as seemingly simple as the removal of a store of excess energy there are limitless possibilities from the ridiculous to the sublime and not forgetting the downright disgusting.

As I have already waded through the weirdest (tongue implants and electroshock) and done my best to avoid the more disgusting ones (tapeworms, need I say more?), I am concentrating on the vogue of the day- fasting.

This method has so many variations and more names:
Intermittant fasting, Alternate Day Diet, JUDDD (JustUpDaysDownDays), 5:2
There are more but somehow it all becomes a blur of people stamping their own brand on the latest cash cow.

All it really boils down to is a fixed period of time when you say no to all that delicious tempting excess inbetween the times you cave in to the temptation of bodily nutrition.

Since placing the average numpty, like me, next to a supermarket is like a Priest living next to a Brothel, breaking of diet commandments is inevitable and a diet with inbuilt sin forgiveness is perfect. I guess the Priest analogy works for the sin part too, just without the need for confession.

I have, as previously blogged, settled on alternate day fasting using a vlcd product (Exante) on my restricted days and an empty calorie free diet (no sweets or sugary drinks etc) on food days.
Fast days are Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Convenient, sociable and easy to schedule.

Extra incentive to keep to this, aside from the burning desire to fit into my running gear again, is not wasting the expensive meal replacements.

Did you have snow today? We did. A sudden heavy flurry that was forecast as rain. And there were shapes, moving like ghosts through the wind whipped land. Yeti this far south?

Fraidykat runs - away from tapeworms
96.9

It's All Relative

Relatively speaking, this could be considered small. It's easy to lose a pound coin, for it to drop through that hole in your pocket and be picked up by someone else who will no doubt lead it to a far more exotic and fulfilling life.
Similarly that marble whose cunning knows no bounds when it comes to escaping the nightly clean may seem insignificant until you tread on it first thing in the morning in bare feet.

Now picture a stone with the diameter of that pound coin and place it in a small coin purse, the sort your Grandma may have kept her small change and peppermints in.

Therein may be the hiccup in the glorious belch of progress. I have somehow managed, despite years of careful abstinence (honestly, why else would I need a health overhaul?), to develop a gallstone that is a third of the size of the entire gallbladder - and that's just the largest one. But for now at least I am spared an operation, the surgeon will see me again in 6 months for another review.

For the record, I really believe that in order to give a man the chance to feel something akin to child birth he should get a whacking great stone in his gallbladder and fall victim to the pure evil that is a 12hour gallbladder attack. 

As a veteran of both I can testify to the mindbending hell that makes that entonox bearing paramedic a God of Salvation.

I am not sure if it's my imagination but the level of the canal seems a little lower than it should be. And the sound of Goblins tunneling has gone away. Maybe they learned how to swim, but probably not. 

Referred Insomnia

Referred Insomnia: The mechanism by which one is denied their well deserved and badly needed sleep by another wide awake person.

Referred Insomnia by Commitee: A more severe version of the above caused by members of the household conspiring to be awake at different times.

Caution:  Both of the above may cause severe confusion, chaos and burnt dinners.

Exercise yesterday was a longish walk in town that was surprisingly easy.
And excessive personal celebration was indulged in when I was able to touch my toes again for the first time in nearly a year.
Many months of willful masochism are to come before I am again able to touch my head to my knees!
Apparently I am good at wishing pain on myself or why would I be working on my marathon training plan again?

A new foe is whispering its evil plans on the wind, a formless disquiet spreading doubt and anguish. I do not believe this is of Goblin design - perhaps they can be tricked into combating each other.

Toddlers Raves and Stiff upper lips

Strange isn't it how we as a nation swing between conservatism and wild excess. That famous stiff upper lip simply refuses to abandon us - queue patiently, please, thank you, sorry when it wasn't even my fault. We tut when someone breaks a social taboo but if we do dare take action we are dreadfully polite about it.
Then comes the weekend - down to the pub, get those drinks in. Many a prison sentence, or divorce come to that, can claim its root to be that innocent phrase "I'll just have one or two".
And who can forget our attrocious holiday reputation? Well, it's one long weekend in'it.
Oddly, I was reminded of this when I so innocently decided to put on some music.  Toddlers dance with such wild abandon - the rave was on and not only was I invited, my attendance was compulsory. A teenager in Ibiza could learn a lot from this wild party animal.
Well, that was my exercise for the day believe me and just to see the innocent smiles and crazy dance moves was a cure for melancholy.

Obviously dear Pharm Acy's healing potion worked on that one. I am still waiting (and wheezing) for mine to take effect.

Regardless of germ warfare I started the diet - and found the first fasting day to be surprisingly easy. Knowing I can eat what I want the next day makes the deprivation absolutely bearable.

Goblins beware, I now have a young Berserker in training. She can fit in your deminutive tunnels, is an expert with thrown Lego and her nappies are a source of a most feared Stinking Cloud. Trespass and be doomed.

Fraidykat runs away from germs
98.2

Bowling balls and Plague

Oh cruel nectar of life, evil beauty that is sweet sweet sugar. Teamed with fat, refined carbs  and those souless mercenaries the E-numbers you have confronted me and at every turn I have surrendered to you.
Churchill would be horrified of a Briton who would wave the white flag with such enthusiasm

I therefore begin my diet tomorrow.
No more do I give comfort to the enemy who's foot soldiers are sweets, chocolate and crisps.

Since I have also discovered (to my great embarrassment) that thanks to last year's weight gain I can no longer fit into my running gear I must come up with a new and improved strategy to rescue my fat besieged body.
- simply buying new gear is out for two reasons:
1) The money pixsies have chosen to blackball me from their favoured list.
2) Clothing manufacturers have long known that plus sized women simply do not run or otherwise require good quality sports gear. This point also extends to attempts to find a good sports bra for a G cup (yes I routinely carry a pair of bowling balls on my chest).

I enter my bootcamp tomorrow. Fat cells beware, the eviction notice is issued, the toecaps are on - you will be emptied.
The way is Alternate Day Fasting: What I want (minus above) one day and 600 calories (branded meal replacement) the next.


Those nasty little Goblins are getting closer. They have drilled a pilot hole and got their Shaman to cast a Plague cloud into my home.
The great Alchemist Pharm Acy has provided two potions to us, great cures known as Calpol and Lemsip.
Biological Warfare is an underhand tactic but it will not defeat me.

Today FraidyKat Runs away from Sugar and Snot.

New Beginnings

As with so many things this all started with a promise.
I promised myself I would start running again this year and I would start a blog to keep track of my attempts to regain my old self and just maybe even improve myself.

A rather vindictive attack of sciatica has delayed my plans but I will not be thwarted. A small fortune has been spent on a Chiropractor (worth every penny) while two months of waiting for my NHS physio referral have proved in vain.
I can now stand up straight again so for my next trick I will do some back strengthening exercises and begin by walking around my soggy garden.

Meanwhile, in the imaginary cellar under my house the scratching and scraping noises get louder. The goblins are tunneling towards us. I can only hope they miscalculate and dig into the canal instead - although that might be difficult to explain to the canal and river trust.
I must train for battle.