... When You Float Like A Cannonball

I've been enjoying some time off work this week - lot's of reading, a bit of television (Countdown has been particularly good this week), one or two chores around the house: in fact, at times, it's been reminiscent of the glorious time I spent at home during the summer months.

I've also had the time - and just as importantly the motivation - to go to the gym two or three times, as well as visit the leisure centre to play table tennis.

[Note to self: listenning to the wonderful music of Damien Rice all afternoon prior to playing table tennis doesn't properly mentally prepare me - my performance could be described, at best, as lackluster (no disrespect to my opponent). Next week it'll be Collision Course by Linkin Park and Jay-Z on the drive to the leisure centre!]

One of the benefits of going to the gym during the day rather than in the evening is that's it a lot quieter. Yesterday, when I arrived at the fitness room (as I must remember to call it, it's apparently not a gym) the facility was only being used by a young lad, perhaps around 20 years of age, and an older, grey haired gentlemen who a suspect may have been a Senior Citizen.

After 10 minutes or so the young lad left leaving just myself and my elderly companion.

'Would you mind if I turned the radio down?' I asked the gentleman.

'Not at all', he replied with a smile, 'it is rather loud isn't it. I think these youngsters sometimes forget that us oldies don't want to listen to loud rock music'.

'Us oldies'? How dare you sir.