Hymns to the Silence

For quite a few months I have been struggling with my right knee. An intermittent strain or stiffness that has kept me from running for ages. At least that was my excuse.

There was probably a lot of laziness in there as well. I had also dropped the touch rugby for a time. And during this time there’s a fear that the years are at last catching up. The old joints aren’t going to work any more the way they did. The freedom to be able to up and run down the river is going to be taken away.

But today was good. I was able to pound up and down the river and do the full four kilometres. I got “Hymn to the Silence” on my iPod and I set it to repeat, so it played over and over again. It’s got a nice easy beat that keeps you going. And Van Morison with his homespun wisdom, all about feeling the silence at half past eleven on long summer nights, and dreaming in God. Van, you’re the man. Silence and wind, and the river and the bridge. Clouds and sunshine and God is good

And alongside me, the bride-to-be is pounding her way along the river too. Getting into shape to look her best and fit her dress. Not that she needs to. I keep telling her she’s thin as a rake. If she works out any more she’ll waste away to nothing before the wedding day even come. But I’m laughing anyway.
I already have my suit (SEE BELOW FOR PREVIOUS ENTRY). So I can tuck into the Cadbury’s creme eggs without batting an eyelid.