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Censorship

I’ve been writing this blog for quite a while, so I must admit that I’m surprised that this is the first time I’ve found myself in my current position.

Perhaps it’s because I tend not to make inflammatory statements (aside from that post about the Bible being a work of fiction written by the Devil, obv) but I’ve never had to censor any comments before.

Luckily I have a Comment Posting Policy which states:

I reserve the exclusive right to moderate all comments posted on my site, including but not limited to… deleting comments that contain offensive language. Repeated use of abusive and offensive language will be deleted and banned.

So, said comment is gone, forever banished to the land of dead pixels and binary dust.




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It’s hard

Listening to the news on the way to work this morning, some chav sounding lassie from some London suburb or other was bemoaning the fact that she found it hard not to bunk off school.

Yes, that’s right. She wasn’t finding it hard to attend school just hard not to bunk off at least once a week.

She said she had once “even” been arrested whilst bunking off which didn’t reflect well on her school, or her parents but it was just really hard not to bunk off. I’m guessing peer pressure is probably the reason but that’s just a symptom of the underlying disease

I’ve touched on this theme before, several years ago, and whilst part of my reaction disgusts me I can’t help that knee-jerk feeling that somewhere, somehow, discipline has been lost, and my contempt for that girl rises to the top.

Do we blame the parents? The teachers? The government? The kids? Probably all of them in different ways and magnitudes.

And the thing that really annoys me is that fixing, or at the very least addressing, the slow decline of moral standards in our society must be possible.

Just, you know, it’s, like, hard.




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I am not a morning person

It’s 10am on Sunday morning, I pick up my water bottle, a small towel and head out the door. I arrive at an almost empty gym and start to warm up. My body resists, my mind suggests that going back to bed might be a better idea and by and large the next hour or so is a bit of a struggle.

This is not a new feeling.

When I first started jogging there were sessions on a Wednesday evening, and a Sunday morning. Once I got over the initial shock of doing any form of regular exercise I was soon bounding along during the Wednesday evening sessions. Sunday mornings were horrid.

I used to think that it was maybe because I wasn’t warmed up enough, that as it was early in the morning I hadn’t really done anything so my body wasn’t really geared up to doing anything strenuous. Unfortunately even after an intense 10 minute warm up my body still wasn’t really of a mind to exert itself. It’s a wonder I managed it out of the house at all.

So I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m not a morning person, and so I wasn’t to perturb on Sunday when I couldn’t cycle as far as I did during the week, nor complete the same amount of reps on any of the machines. That’s ok though.

Because I was there. That is what counts on the days you really don’t want to go.

Now I just need to find a way to make them count DOUBLE, and I’ll be happy.




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