This morning I set off for the gym half an hour before Mirinda left for work. I felt sure that she’d overtake me given my less than perfect pace. But she didn’t. She’s come down with a bit of a cold so maybe that explains it.
By the time I reached the lane where I turn off the park I gave up looking behind me.
There followed the usual round of cycling, heavy weight lifting, hip spreading and so on and so forth then, naturally, a coffee at Nero and shopping. Then home.
Today in the park we met Hugo. Hugo is a Westie who, his owner asserts, is a bit brazen when it comes to the ladies. He is only ever interested in bitches and tries to lead them astray at any opportunity. He tried with Freya today but she just jumped up on a bench and was safely out of reach of his straying paws.
We then met Emma’s twin.
He was a cocker-poo and, from a distance, looked exactly like Emma. Mind you, he wasn’t acting like her. He was wrestling with a big white fluffy thing twice his size. His owner was talking to the big white fluffy thing’s owner and I figured they must know each other.
When the cocker-poo reached us his owner told me that they’d only just met. I was amazed. My two will happily go and say hello to dogs they know but I would find it very odd for them to start playing with strange dogs. Particularly to the extend that these two were cavorting and wrestling.
Anyway, I chatted with the cocker-poo’s owner for a bit. She admired Emma’s tight curls (after saying how similar she was to Max, her dog) and I mentioned they were close to their next haircut. She told me how she had started clipping him herself. She does it gradually, she said. Apparently Max is quite happy for anything to be cut except his legs. She said that last week he looked like an 80’s reject with big, curly leg warmers.
I told her I was deemed useless at hair cutting and wasn’t allowed to do anything but trim the hair around their eyes when they started walking into walls through lack of sight.
Oh, how we laughed.
The rest of the day was spent doing housework. Then, after tea, I watched an amazing Spanish film.
It was called Solo (Alone) and is based on a true story. It features a surfer who slips off a narrow path one day, heading for his favourite secluded beach, and winds up hanging off a cliff over the ocean.
He pushes himself into the water and, though he gashes his hand and breaks his pelvis he manages to get himself to a small inlet beach where he remains for hours. He is, eventually found, swimming two kilometres off the beach and rescued. He was gone for 48 hours.
The reason I originally chose to watch it was because it starred the amazing Aura Garrido, my favourite Spanish actor. I ended up enjoying it for more than just Aura. I didn’t know anything about it but it played like something that was true and showed how amazing human’s can be in life or death situations with overwhelming odds against survival.
‘Highly enjoyable’ isn’t really the best description of this film. It’s more in the realm of ‘ridiculously harrowing’ (particularly the fish hook scene) but is nicely done. The beach scenes and the Canary Islands also do quite a good job.
And, of course, there’s Aura.