Geeklawyer feels that this ought to be the start of a Dadaist bar joke:
“A hiker & cow walked into a field. The barman said to the hiker ‘cows are more dangerous than you think chummy’ “
But Anti-humour, like its cousin Humour, needs impeccable timing and GL is in the sort of fucking pain that needs morphine & mead for relief rather than sissy Ibuprofen.
GL has been yomping for the past 3 weeks to get fit for the batshit crazy Long Mynd Hike. Having not done any yomping since living in Brighton 5 years ago GL has the physique of Bernard Manning after a Guinness sponsored pie-eating championship. Not promising for a competition that is rated as ‘Extreme’. The training regime consisted of walking 2 or 3 hours a day together with several 20+ mile hikes followed by a recovery day. After the 20 mile hikes collapsing into a hot bath with a cup of very sweet tea was a sensual pleasure that would get one locked up in many southern US states. All was going so well. So very well. GL harboured the faint dawning hope that he might just finish the competition, and perhaps (with the aid of forbidden incantations to ancient evil gods) within the allotted 24 hours. He even harboured fantasies that an impressed Bar Standards Board would forgive all past sins and readmit him to the Bar.
So. The next stage was upping the goal to 30 mile yomps in the last week prior to the competition. The plan was to get up at 4am drive to an arbitrary start line at Snailbeach and then walk in a loop for 30 of the 50 miles. All went well: he started out at 5am and got to the pretty but unpleasantly and inconsiderately gradiented Corndon Hill 5 miles away by 7:30am. Not exactly an Olympic speed but neither was it too shabby for an oval shaped GL. Of course there was no topological reason for the inclusion of the top of Cordon hill in the route, it was just gratuitous sadism by the boy scout organisers (let us not open that can of worms). They could have had the humanity to put the route round the side of the hill but there’s no competition fun unless someone dies of an asthma attack in the process of imitating a Chamonix goat. So upwards GL panted, chubby thighs burning. And down from the top he came with the tops of those chubby thighs still burning: he wondered why evolution hadn’t had the wit to equip mankind with a Kers system.
Cows: why did it have to be cows?
At the bottom of Corndon hill is a field of cows. Farmer John’s cows (GL is led to believe). The public footpath does lead into that field of cows. Now, footpath routing can be ambiguous on a 1:50000 OS map, but it does properly lead into this field at least. In wandered placid peaceful GL – friend to all the flesh and fowl of the World – something of a St Francis of Assisi. Immediately, one cow was spooked and fled. Well, sorry about that Ms Timid. But next to her was a lady with a somewhat less tremulous character. She wasn’t putting up with some lowlife in her ‘hood. Oh no. She charged.
GL doesn’t know if you’ve ever been charged by a cow or not. It sounds rather funny. Cows are docile timid things and they convert sunlight and grass into the nicer things in life: cool white milk, tasty steaks. And Trampling Death. Wait what?! Death. A cow weighs on average about 1500 lbs, which is about what a double garage weighs. GL can outrun even the fittest garage. An enraged cow is a different matter. Why did they attack? In GL’s case he had no dog and the cows seemed to have no calves so it is a mystery what upset her. The suspicion is, and with an eye to the UK’s Claimant friendly libel laws it is no more than a suspicion, that the cows were associates of the Motion Picture Association and thus ill disposed towards GL. He can think of no other rational reason for this unwarranted unprovoked attack. GL leapt into a bush next to the barbwire fence to avoid the onrushing bovine psychopath; when it still pressed on with it’s attack he had to leap across the barbed wire fence like an alarmed Steve Lewis. Alas, gravity and GL’s knees have disagreed several times before, resulting in a torn cruciate ligament that has never fully healed. This time there was an electric jolt of agonising pain to the left knee which promptly gave way. GL limped for 1/2 a mile across country to a nearby house for aid.
GL sits on his sofa with his left knee swollen to the size of a medicine ball and probably a cruciate ligament that now looks like a bit of well chewed dental floss. And where is his morphine? Damned busybody politicians outlawed pain relief that is both effective and entertaining.
GL is now on a crusade to ban ethical cow meat. They deserve no pity or compassion. Like ISIS terrorists they must be crushed mercilessly before they crush us.
Update: after seeing the doctor it appears (touch wood) to be soft tissue damage & not the cruciate ligament. Phewz.
- The Radnorshire Arms, Beguildy
- Happy New Year – 2015
- Beaten up by a cow.
- Rather shitty day.
- Restaurant review: The French Pantry, Ludlow
- Restaurant review: The Lion Hotel, Shrewsbury
- Restaurants: cooking up a review
- The blog returns!
- Proper blog back up
- Tripping over the pike
- Pole dancing for the judge
- Is this how government works?