After hearing the great news that my flatmate is getting a ukulele, following in the footsteps of other great players, I decided to find some way to vent my inevitable excitement on hearing this blessed instrument, inevitably during those times when I subliminally invite music into my life i.e. world cup finals, never to be shown again concerts, birth of first child, appearence on who wants to be a millionaire etc.
Bring forth the gym, and its soothing energies. Some cynics point out that it's just an excuse for me to go watch numerous bottoms bounce up and down, but to those fools I point out the stair machines are at the back and you can only spend 5 minutes tops doing stretches before the staff get suspicious and kick you out.
At ULU they have upgraded the machines, especially my favourite, the cross-trainer. Basically, it allows you to simulate striding cross country in a purposeful manner, walking sticks in hand, to work up a good sweat. The genius of the upgrade lies in the pre-programmed options. I originally tried "city steps", a regime where you sporadically encounter an up hill gradient. Sometimes a simulated commuter barges into you and spills skin-fuckingly hot coffee on your silk blouse, but only in the 7.30-9.30 a.m. option.
The real joy lies in some of the more advanced programs. Program 21, Battle of the Somme, has you climbing over the bodies of your dead friends and comrades, inch by bloody inch, whilst artillery fire explodes worringly close. 34 brings the joy of a major department store sale, differing from 21 in that the writhing bodies you crush under foot are those of rival shoppers. The machine spurs you on by dangling various bargains alluringly close, only to snatch them away as you reach to grab them.
Many more programs are available to unlock by beating the high scores on the base levels. I'm currently training my body to try gain access to program 45, a rather nice amble around the Cotswolds, involving tea and scones and a heated debate with an ex-army major about the uks immigration policy.
Bring forth the gym, and its soothing energies. Some cynics point out that it's just an excuse for me to go watch numerous bottoms bounce up and down, but to those fools I point out the stair machines are at the back and you can only spend 5 minutes tops doing stretches before the staff get suspicious and kick you out.
At ULU they have upgraded the machines, especially my favourite, the cross-trainer. Basically, it allows you to simulate striding cross country in a purposeful manner, walking sticks in hand, to work up a good sweat. The genius of the upgrade lies in the pre-programmed options. I originally tried "city steps", a regime where you sporadically encounter an up hill gradient. Sometimes a simulated commuter barges into you and spills skin-fuckingly hot coffee on your silk blouse, but only in the 7.30-9.30 a.m. option.
The real joy lies in some of the more advanced programs. Program 21, Battle of the Somme, has you climbing over the bodies of your dead friends and comrades, inch by bloody inch, whilst artillery fire explodes worringly close. 34 brings the joy of a major department store sale, differing from 21 in that the writhing bodies you crush under foot are those of rival shoppers. The machine spurs you on by dangling various bargains alluringly close, only to snatch them away as you reach to grab them.
Many more programs are available to unlock by beating the high scores on the base levels. I'm currently training my body to try gain access to program 45, a rather nice amble around the Cotswolds, involving tea and scones and a heated debate with an ex-army major about the uks immigration policy.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
kissy_suzuki:
I haven't been to the gym in ages, that baby weights not gonna lose itself though, fucking unfortunately. I'm good though thankyou Ed, baby is lovely says dada but not mama has no teeth but would gum my finger to obliteration if I let her. Hope you're doing fine?
elysia:
I'll forgive the lack of humour, those pictures seem to have drained me of my usual bitter sarcasm .... Dammit! 