Posts Tagged Skipping

Driving Myself To Distraction

skipSome time ago I bought a skipping rope at Tescos and recently I dug it out so that I could do a few minutes of skipping prior to going running. On Saturday morning I set about some skipping drills on the patio at the back of the house, managing a small rally of jumps between whipping the rope to a halt with my shins. The rope needed shortening a little and upon examining a removable cap on the handles I found inside, the ends of the rope which, it seemed could be pulled through and trimmed off. A job, I thought, for later.

This morning Wil left early for a ride with the bike club. Cameron eventually ditched his dressing gown for some mismatched items of clothing and left the house clutching a large magnifying glass. I was left in blissful silence, lording it up on the sofa in my dressing gown scrolling aimlessly through a distraction of internet sites, whilst eating a bowl of porridge and occasionally glancing outside at the morning sun warming the top of the hedgerow.

At 11:30 it was blatent that I was pissing the day away. The load of washing in the machine was not going to hang itself out and the chickens needed to be let out to destroy the garden. I started upstairs to get dressed only I realising an item of clothing I needed was downstairs in the clean washing pile but as I walked past the sofa I caught site of my empty porridge bowl sat on the arm. I picked it up and took it to the kitchen. When I passed the aquarium I stopped to feed the fish and when I washed my hands I noticed the sink needed a clean. Distraction after distraction. Finally I walked out into the garden.

Outside, the chickens watched with great interest as I hung the wet laundry on the line.  I opened their coop door and they immediately set about pecking the weeds growing between the paving slabs. I collected their eggs and placed them gently in the pocket of my dressing gown while I cleaned out their nest boxes. The sun was warm and the air still crisp and unusually there wasn’t the slightest breeze blowing through the garden. Wendy began chasing a butterfly across the lawn, quickly pursued by Susan who is not one to miss out on excitement. I picked up the empty laundry basket and returned inside.

Stepping inside the back door I left my shoes on the door mat in the dining room. The skipping rope caught my eye. I picked it up and removed the cap from the end of the handle to expose the surplus rope. The end was secured in place by a small O ring pinched in half. The folded O ring sat against a flat washer inside the handle on which to swivel so that the rope didn’t become twisted when it was turned. I could remove the folded O ring, shorten the rope and replace the O ring to make a neat adjustment. But just before I did, it’d be worth skipping with the rope once more just to make sure shortening it was absolutely necessary.

Having removed my shoes it seemed the best place to give the rope another go would be in the living room where the extra high ceilings would allow such movement and swinging of a rope without causing damage. In my socks and dressing gown I clasped a handle in each hand and positioned the rope behind my ankles. A quick check around confirmed nothing within reach of the rope so with a flick of the wrists I sent the rope up over my head and down in front of me before executing a little jump allowing  it to pass under my feet.

As my feet returned to the floor they did so with a crackling wet ‘snap’ sound. It was an unexpected noise. It wasn’t the wood floor splitting, the TV was still in situ and even the large lightshade was still suspended near the ceiling completely untouched.

As I stood there wondering for a moment about the source of the strange noise, I glanced down and it became blatently apparent where the noise had eminated from. There in front of me slowly expanding across the wood flooring were both of the fresh eggs which had been jolted out of my pocket in one swift jump and sent smashing across the floor.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the day where I ended up half way through making some muffins only to find I didn’t have any eggs.

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Skipping….An Underrated Passtime

It’s what happens when you pack your kid off on holiday for several weeks – you end up browsing the isles at the local Tesco store at 10pm. Just because you can. You even take time to wander down the isles that you never usually venture down and that’s where you learn that Tesco sells Heart Rate Monitors for £20 and Ultralite Sleeping Bags for under £10 and Skipping Ropes, yes, Skipping Ropes. And of course, we had to have one because like all the other gimmicks we fall for here in Foxsden Towers THIS will be the one that transforms us from the pair of lazy lard arses we are into ripped powerhouses. Of course it will – if only coordinating those two feet to leave the ground as those two hands swing the rope down past your knees wasn’t so damn hard to time.

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