Learning Judo

Good morning dear reader and welcome to a beautiful, sunny morning at Comb Towers. So far the temperatures are reasonable, but we are on the crest of another heatwave. Mother Nature never ceases to amaze me. Our plants are bravely flowering on, in spite of my occasional neglect vis a vis the watering can. I do manage to keep the bird baths topped up with fresh water. One upside of the season advancing is that this year’s chicks are well grown now and my resident crow is not having much luck o his killing sorties and thus not leaving me nasty presents in the bird bath,

   Hey ho, learning judo. No, dear reader, I had no desire to learn judo, believe it or not. Only, in the pursuit of literary research for a future crime novel I made the mistake to ask Spouse about strangulation.

   Not a thing you should necessarily ask your Spouse about and in my case, definitely not. Now, we have been married for what seems like centuries and I never knew he possessed so much knowledge about methods of strangulation. Yes, I know, that sounds really creepy doesn’t it? However, you may relax, dear reader. As a former member of Her Majesty’s police, Spouse acquired a great deal of knowledge on this subject,

   As I said, I made the mistake of asking… Not only did he know, but he was unhealthily eager to demonstrate the various methods on me. As if that was not bad enough and it was, believe me. No, he couldn’t leave it there. As ever, one thing leads to another. I needed to learn how to break the stranglehold, learn the judo throws to defeat my attacker and all moves in between.

   Dear reader, I am now black and blue and all shades of yellow and purple. I think I need to write a manual on pastimes for a Saturday morning. My list is endless and this is one more questionable addition to it.

   So, if you meet me in the street and come up to say hello, be careful I don’t throw you over my shoulder or toss you to the ground in one easy move. I am so confident now I want to swagger about saying, ‘don’t mess with me’. Having said that, I’m only five foot two and if you’re six foot six and built like a barn door, I might have a problem.

   I know one thing, a little light pussyfooting around Spouse for a while won’t go amiss. Just until he forgets aout the subject of strangulation. I mean…why poke the crocodile?

   Goodbye for now dear reader and I hope I am in better shape by the time we meet next week. Stay cool and safe and enjoy the summer days.