Continuing with the rather impressive health regime, I went on a 20 mile bike ride with my Dad. Quite early on in the journey he found a postman’s post bag full of letters in the middle of the road, and felt obliged to pick it up so the lost mail may be returned to the post office on Monday. This meant he had to lug it round with him, with the bag balanced precariously on his handlebars; which seems an inconvenience to say the least. Such is the curse of the Good Samaritan. The worst part is that he goes to work before the Post Office opens and doesn’t get back till after it closed. So I will have to return it for him, and thus take the credit for all his bag-carrying efforts.
My Dad didn’t seem to mind, he just seemed preoccupied with pride about the length of the journey we had managed. After we finished he even said he felt “as fit as a Butcher’s Dog”. Is that a popular saying, or is it just a regional one that is spoken in our village? I’ve only ever heard it once before, and that was when the neighbour from three doors down once told me that I similarly looked “as fit as a butcher’s dog.” Having heard my Dad use it in such a self-congratulatory context, at least I now feel assured it is a phrase of politeness. Assumedly it implies that a butcher’s dog is healthy because it gets to eat prime cuts of meat. But I remember feeling unsure of the intent when my neighbour said it to me. It doesn’t necessarily sound like a compliment. I’d argue that when assessing the fitness of a butcher’s dog relies on context to a certain degree. Is the butcher a successful businessman who manages to sell a great percentage of his stock onto his patrons? If he is not, then surely a Butcher’s Dog risks being over-fed on all the left-overs. In which case my neighbour would be implying I am obese. Conversely, if butcher the butcher has amazing business prowess then presumably the only stock left will be the stuff that is of too low quality to be sold on to customers and would otherwise need to be discarded. In which case, the poor dog would be at perpetual risk of food poisoning from rancid meat. In my experience, anyone with food poisoning generally tends to look of ill-health. Like I say, context is everything. Surely we need to learn about the butcher before we can make assumptive assess about how fit his dog is?
Putting the canine of a food retailer aside, I do feel genuinely better for all of the exercise I’ve accomplished this week. I have easily surpassed my 2000 calorie target. It is just a shame I had to spoil all this good work by going out last night and drinking my own weight in Guinness. That is the reason this blog has been posted so late. In a nutshell, I got so blind drunk I was unable to make an entry. And not for the first time; as many of my exes would probably testify (hur hur).
(I should probably apologise for finishing with such a lazy and vulgar innuendo. But I am too worn out to bother deleting it now).
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