Currently sitting waiting for Louise and Molly to return with the half term treat of a chinese take away. This is the one treat I've allowed myself to have in the last week and something I know is going to be wonderful. It's a special treat because I've been on a health kick / diet over the last month.
Buying the bike has meant I can actually enjoy exercise. Because no matter how much I enjoy the scenery, walking without a purpose just seems slightly silly to me. Running was always better, but my left knee is completely shafted (snowboarding injury many years ago) so that's out. But riding the bike suddenly meant I could exercise and go places. A perfect solution. Add in the cutting out of crap food and my weight and worryingly middle aged spread type thing is going away little by little.
However, whilst sitting here waiting for Louise and Molly to get back I'm sitting here trying to write a review of a strange little graphic novel that contains nothing but artwork from a couple of artists referencing various Eastern European folk tales. And it's one of those things that just fills me with insecurities about what little I know. in an ideal world I'd know about these things, be able to trot of a series of theories about them all and feel really smug in my own knowledge on this and every other subject in the great big world. Sadly I'm not. But then again, how many of us really are?
This is the reason we all seem to hold such wonderful minds as Alan Moore and Stephen Fry in such high regard. It's the amazing way they just knnow so much stuff about so much that we find amazing.
But I really have to try to feel less insecure about it all and just get on and review the damn thing.
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