The mime poo game

I'm sure Tangent is a wannabe starlet. On a walk he quite often scampers (I've never had a dog that scampered before) off to find somewhere suitable to poo. Now, Tangent and I have different opinions of what this actually means. To me, it's most convenient if he poops on open ground, preferably on short grass. Tangent, however, approaches the process from an entirely different viewpoint. He seems to have a penchant for pooing on brambles, thorns or anything else that will pierce a poo bag. (If you're not familiar with poo bags, these are basically nappy sacks that are so thin only will power alone holds the molecules of plastic together).

Other favourite places for him include anywhere involving height. He will reverse backwards towards his desired object, with his bottom in the air ready to make his deposit. This can be quite funny, except when you realise he's pooped in your plant pots containing your herbs and vegetables.

He even once swam across a river and pooed on the far-side bank. I had to wade across the river to clean up after him.

All this is irritating enough, but he also plays an infuriating game with me whereby he will pretend to poo. He is very convincing and really throws himself into the role of defecating dog. When I go to pick up after him I can't find anything. As he only does this in crowded public places, I find myself thoroughly scrutinising the ground before quickly grabbing a handful of grass, leaves or small pebbles and depositing them in the poo bins. I'm sure I've met the shifty eye of a fellow fake-faeces thrower on more than one occasion.

Cycling proficiency

I have ridden to work a few times in the last couple of weeks but still didn't really feel like a proper cyclist. Wednesday, however, saw me earning my cycling commuter stripes.

This Wednesday, feeling a bit cocky after almost halving the time it takes me to get to work in a couple of weeks, I pushed my bike out of the underground car park at work and swung my leg over the bike like a pro. Unfortunately, I'm not a pro, and I continued the sideways momentum to the floor and managed to graze both knees causing one knee (my bad one, typically) to swell horribly, graze my palm, pull my trapezius and bruise my arse. All this from toppling off a stationary bike. It was not one of my prouder moments.

I'm not really sure how I managed to cause such damage from a minor topple, but I have analysed the black-box of my memory and I think I have established how I probably made things worse. Below follows my thought process during the split-second event:

Me: "Am cyclist; see me gracefully champion the mounting of a bike."

Swings leg over bike, and begins to lose balance.

Me: "Ah. I did not foresee this. Do I recall seeing anyone else about? No. Good. Gosh, the hard-looking concrete ground appears to be meeting me at haste."

Puts hand out to avoid meeting ground with face. Grazes palm and one knee and bounces bottom off ground (which turns out not to be as padded as once thought).

Me: "Ah. That somewhat stings. Oh. This is a new bike!"

Attempts to throw self under the bike to break the bike's fall. Fails miserably, but manages to entangle other leg in the bike resulting in a horrible impact to knee, which immediately registers its indignation at being used as cannon fodder by swelling impressively.

Me: "I don't want to commute anymore."

Crawl pathetically away from bike like a drunk raccoon. Stand bike up and tentatively attempt to remount bike. Survives this technical manoeuvre and slowly rides away, leaving my pride and bits of skin in tatters.

On arriving home, I instantly demanded sympathy from Husband, who was sensible enough not to mock me at this point. I then spent the evening wondering if I'd chipped my patella as I couldn't bend my knee (turns out it isn't chipped, I'm just a wuss).
I still went to dog club that night, but Husband drove. Tangent seemed to be overly fond of banging into my knees during the session, leaving me wondering if he hadn't quite forgot the time when I accidentally poked him in the eye with my toe.

Taken after getting home from fall

Taken three days after what has become known

as 'the incident'

 This hasn't put me off riding to work, but I sure have a lot more respect for skilled cyclists. And concrete floors, definitely more respect for concrete floors.

Careering off a cliff

Since graduating three years ago, I've been struggling to find a job that pays the average £24k per year that you can expect as a graduate. Instead, grateful as I am to be in employment, I'm on pretty much the same money I was on before I even went to university. I have looked, but everyone seems to want some mythical graduate with a First Class Honours (platinum coated, preferably) and 20 years experience in the same role they're applying for. Oh, and to attain all this before reaching 25. And have a Nobel Peace Prize. And maybe rescue orphaned baby penguins.

It's made me wonder why I am so keen to get my career moving. There are so many people in high pressure jobs with work-related stress illnesses, complaining that they never see loved ones, never have any time for themselves, and have too many expectations of themselves. Who really needs that? Especially when you could easily be replaced, fired or promoted into even more stress.

So, until I do find something that won't dissolve my brain from boredom, I'm going to try and enjoy the stress-free time I do have. Who really wants to career off a cliff anyway?