Owie Owie Ow-Ow

You know, every now and then, one of "those" plans comes along.  You know the sort...  They start out as an inkling, and you run with them, and flag them - beforehand - as "What a jolly good idea!"

Then, over the course of The Plan, it slowly slides down in estimations, from "What a jolly good idea!" to "Hmmm, wait a sec..." to "Uh oh" to downright "Holy mother of all things holy, what WAS I thinking!?"

Yesterday was one such day of plan.

Sunday, we had planned to go to the Southend Airshow, but, thinking about last year, the kids didn't really enjoy it, and with squillions of people pushing around, it wasn't too appealing this year.  Thankfully, the kids decided they'd rather do something else.  Swimming came up, but was then squished down as Molly was missing a swimming costume.

"I know-" piped up Her Holiness Kellie the First "- why don't we sort the bikes out, ride down the Canvey seafront, play at the beach, get something to eat, then have dinner out?"

"What a jolly good idea!" said I...  Can you see where this is going.  My bike has been in need of repairs for donkeys years, so I managed to lug it over to Canvey for Kellie to have a look at.  So yesterday morning, Kellie sorted out my wheel alignment and brake adjustments, fiddled with the kids bikes, altered hers a bit, and we got ready for the off.

Now, I have been ordered, er, instructed polietly asked to point out my "moment" here.  I am NOT a mechanically-minded soul.  While I know HOW an engine works, or the physics behind bicycle gears, for me to do anything constructive to them is a big no no.  Technology, lemmie at it.  Mechanics...  Say wha?

So, while Kellie was pottering around, covered in oil and being all manly, I was looking on with faint amusement of "What IS she doing?"  So, while she was undoing, and tightening, and adjusting, she nodded towards her toolbox, and said "Can you pass me a number seven please?"

So, I looked in the toolbox, looked at her holding a spanner, looked back and replied "But there are only six spanners in here..."

Much to her amusement, I should add.

Turns out, a number seven is something to do with a ratchet set.

Think I'll get her to adjust the jumper settings on her hard drive, see how she likes it ;)

So anyway, we set off.  My backside points out to me that it's not sat on a bike for nigh on 10 years.  I shushed it up, and we headed down the road to the start point of the seaside we'd be riding along.  Fifteen minutes later, we arrive, and I see the journey from here on in is off-road.  No worried, mind you, I have a nice bike with suspension.

An hour later, my backside points out he's feeling a little bit sorry for himself.  Kellie lets me know we're nearly at the beach, so I ignore him some more, and we get to the beach, with the little cafe, and dismount.

Mr Backside is rather tender, not saddle-worthy by any means...

We have a cuppa and relax a bit, having a lark around on the beach...

A while after that, we cycle a little further to the arcades, and spend an hour or two playing in there, then get back on the bikes.  At this point, Mr Backside decides he's really had enough - at the furthest point from where we now need to be.  So I am riding, for the most part, standing on my pedals as sitting is not an option.

Another hour later, we arrive at the pub where we're having dinner, and spend just over an hour of me sitting uncomfortably while eating very nice food.  Knowing there's still a ten minute ride after dinner.

We get in, get the kids to bed, and decide it's shower time.  And it didn't feel tooooooo bad, nice hot shower, aching bits easing off.

After the shower, me and Kellie flop out and watch Doctor Who on iPlayer, and, 45 minutes later, I struggle to move.  My body has officially announced "I'm Dead" with Mr Backside as the Ringleader.

hehe ring leader, bums...

Bedtime, I eat a box of painkillers and after a really shit night of sleep and strange arse shark-related nightmares (not arse-sharks I should point out) wake up with Kellie as she has to work, and kind of move off the bed.  "Get Up" is not a term I could use as Gravity had a good hold of me.  Drag myself from the pit, stumble to the loo, stumble downstairs and help Kellie get sorted.

She leaves, I potter around and help out with the kids and the house, take some pills, and kind of just... Remain dead.  I am pretty sure my body is mostly dead.

Send for Miracle Max.

And here I've sat, mostly, for the day.  Watching the clock for when it's Painkiller O'Clock, drinking tea, and just remaining in place.   Every part - every part - of my body, bar my chest, is hurting.  Head, Neck, Shoulders, Shoulder Blades, Upper and Lower Arms, Wrists, Hands, Fingers, Back, Hips, Backside, Thighs, Calf Muscles, Ankles, Feet - even my damn toes.

But my arse is screaming blue murder.

Think I'll leave the bike for a few days before I try again ;)

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