Where Murgatroid Goes A-Jogging

What Ho Proles!

Dashed exhausted but at least I’m here in once piece. Been out jogging. Oh, I know what you’re thinking and I can’t believe it myself. Never been one to go in for that organised fitness lark. I once walked in on Mrs. Priggs wearing her yellow lycra leotard and it put me off the business of keep fit ever since. Yet to say an ‘organised run’ might be a bit misleading. There was nothing organised about it.

I was five minutes into a walk around the estate before I remembered that Mrs My Man said she would be letting the dogs out this afternoon in order to clean their kennels. One moment I was enjoying the nip of the January air and then next moment I was sprinting for my life fearing the nip of six ravenous Doberman dogs made mean by their tightly coiled rubber bands.

I shouldn’t imagine I covered the hundred meters in anything more than ten seconds which by my reckoning is World Record pace and better than anything in the world of UK athletics for the past couple of seasons.

Anyway, it got the blood pumping and as you can see, I’ve posted another chapter of Memoir. I’m not leaving these chapters sitting on the machine for very long as I want to press on and get to the end of this thing. Polishing can become such a terrible chore and only makes it harder to press on into new territory. I’ve got 50,000 words and I’ve no idea how many more are in me. I would hope to have an end at 75,000 word. As events turn more dramatic, I’m hoping to polish them off quicker than I have of late.

I must now dash, though less literally than before. I’ve had My Man run me a bath. My muscles are in need of a good soak. It was quite an ordeal, though I know it shouldn’t have been. I hear that the best way to defeat a dog in battle is to push a pencil, for want of a better description, an inch or so below its tail. I don’t know if it works and I had no chance to experiment. I only had my frightfully expensive Mont Blanc fountain pen in my pocket and, if I know nothing else, I know that their platinum nibs were never meant for that kind of terrain. Still, I feel better for the run.

And on that point, I better go bathe.

Speak to you anon.