A Tax rose is but a rose by any other name

Socialise and chat about other areas of your life
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Considering that my dad was born in 1934, then no. But I think maybe his dad was? After my Fun Run, dad went all around the houses, well I did really.

Dad: That's where the pens where.

He then described to me how dockers (his dad)had to be in these things and be picked out. If you didn't know
the master roll you were stuffed.
That horrified me. Surely were not going back to those days?
Sajehar wrote: Well, I did it. I told my dad I loved him. He hugged me (he had no choice really) and then accused me of being Italian?

Me: What the hell do the Italians have to do with anything?

Weird or what? All I did was make him stand up and hug me… and I said I loved him. You’ve thought I’d just confessed to mass murder instead.

His generation is very odd… Italians?
because we Italians love nothing better than hugging and kissing ! We're a very demonstrative race :roll: :lol: :lol: always over the top with shows of emotion :shock:
I’ve finally done it; I’ve worked out how to take stills from videos. As ever, it didn’t half take some faffing around, and hair tearing frustration. But I got there in the end, and on my lonesome too. My poor nephew was spared his analogue aunty having to call him in.

Dad obviously couldn’t speed march the course alongside me in order to take vids of me at each obstacle. Definitely not something to be recommended for an arthritic octogenarian with heart problems and an inoperable hernia to even contemplate.
So he was restricted to taking vids at the first obstacle, the last obstacle and the finish line, so three posts coming up.
Considering he could hardly see anything on his mobile screen, and he took a fair few vids of just grass and his shadow, I think he did really well. Without any more ado:

First obstacle, the darnel(I just know I've spelt that wrong.)

I’m not in this one, but I was just behind the tutu wearing schoolgirls leaping the durnal like gazelles. Compare and contrast to the next photo of me tentatively climbing over it. I had a wonky knee to consider... That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it! Oh to be young again :dry:
I'd love to know what the white thing is on the leaping girl's arse.
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I'm third from the left as you look at photo, and yes I did have my water bottle between my tits.
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I was right near the front of the start line, alongside the ballerina gazelles. We sprinted as though a T Rex was after us when the start thingy banged off. Just as well we did because shortly after we’d done our leaping/clambering over several of these durnals, the hordes of Gog and Magog were behind us. I bet there were a few accidental elbowings and kickings amongst that mob.


Part two will be the mud slide.


The final obstacle, the mud slide.

Normally there were 6 women on the slide at a time. I look like Billy-no-mates here. But that’s because I was a lone runner, and several lines behind me were all teams. Not unnaturally they wanted to go down together holding hands, so I was allowed to go up on my own. Thus rests the case for Sajahar V Billy-no-mates, Your Honour :whistle:
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I was hoping when I got to the bottom of the slide I’d go flying into the mud pool at the bottom. Instead I came to a dead halt just two feet from the end; I didn’t have enough weight to create enough momentum for that to happen… bummer!
So why didn’t I just chuck myself into it anyway? Because, Your Honour, that would be cheating; either these things happen or they don’t. Wading through it was thus the right and proper thing to do instead :whistle:
I forgot to put my Nanogens on my hair so thinning hair showing up here. I was going to edit in thicker hair - Oh, vanity, vanity, thy name is woman - but I couldn't be arsed.

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Exhibit A, Your Honour, is proof positive that I did indeed stick my water bottle between my tits. If you look closely, Your Honour, you can see the bottle top discreetly peeping from between my bosoms :whistle:
If you look at the top right hand corner you can see a full compliment of 6 women (2 of the 6 to be precise) waiting for me to be fully out of the mud pool before the marshals would let them slide. They were good naturedly cat-calling me to, "Shift yer arse, shift yer arse, hun," in unison.
The finish line in the next post. Not for the faint-hearted as I look a complete and total wreak.


Talk about a chalk & cheese comparison :roll: But why not? Considering our base lines, my achievement is as good as theirs in my book.

I chose this still coz it looks like I’m the front runner of an actual race… show off that I am. The truth is that in the group of about 60+ that I set off with I was actually in the middle.
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As soon as I crossed that finishing line I started walking… sod running any more. I'd had enough of that!
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I am horrified by what a total wreck I look here as I accepted my medal. I was so nervous that I didn’t sleep a wink the night before hand, and my stomach was so tight with nerves I couldn’t eat any breakfast either; although I lied to dad and said I had. All told, it’s a bloody miracle I managed to complete the course at all. Mind you we were all huffing and puffing, and gasping for air, like stranded fish.
What intrigues me is how come the girls behind me have no mud on their faces, or in their hair, yet my face and hair are full of mud? Tis a mystery.

Pet66, I’m as proud of the cyber medal you awarded me as I am of the one the army cadet is handing me here.


Bowing in admiration to you Sajehar. You called it a fun run, doesn't look like fun to me ( a confirmed non runner) so sending much respect.
When's the next one? ;)
I'm very impressed, Sajehar. I dare not go to see the painted ceiling at Greenwich because you have to climb up and down 70 steps on the scaffolding.
The white thing in the first picture - is it her foot?
Mrs Average

I am indeed doing some more. My next one will be a doddle; a mere 6.5KM memory walk in aid of dementia awareness for the Alzheimer’s Society. Needless to say I’m dedicating my shirt pin-on sheet to mum.
The walk sounds amazing. It takes place early Sept in a country park, in Liverpool???? I kid you not; never heard of the place before. It takes in a lake, woods, working home farm, Victorian walled garden and a nature reserve. Hope the sun shines.
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I tried taking a selfie with my t shirt on as I couldn’t be bothered taking it off. That didn’t work as writing comes out backwards on a selfie. So in order to reverse the selfie mirror effect I decided to take a selfie also using an actual mirror. To reverse the reverse affect in effect.
Did my cunning plan work? I have no idea as the double reflected camera screen on my mobile was so small I could hardly see the wording on it, let alone see if it was the right way round or not. Enlarging the said photo made the lettering even more blurry, so I stuck to my tried and tested method above… a bog standard photo.
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My next one after that is a children’s hospice 5K Splash Dash were you get squirted with edible dye and coloured powders. This one is also in Sefton Park, sometime late Sept. Might wear protective wrap-around goggles for this one. We’ve got about 6 pairs in dad’s workshop.



You’re right, it is her foot. She must be a double-jointed continoust (spell checker says continuums :-??? I’m sure you know what I mean though.)
I thought it must be a fleck on dad’s mobile screen. But to double check your theory against mine I viewed the next few screen shots along and the white ‘fleck’ disappeared. So well spotted, Ms Eagle Eyes.
The only way I’d ever climb up 70 steps on a scaffold is if I was harnessed up as if for a reverse abseil. And, as backup, there were a huge mattress at the foot of the scaffolding too. Like you, my head for heights is not very good.

Humm… my room looks a little untidy in photo 2; my inner domestic goddess is slipping. I have one last photo I can download… now let me see; what can I use? I couldn’t resist my fridge magnet :whistle:
Bloody hell, I've just realised how late it is. My, doesn't time fly when you're having fun. Time for some shut-eye now methinks.


Here's what I won't be going to see - the Painted Ceiling at Greenwich:
https://londonist.com/london/did-you-kn ... ine-chapel

It's not the head for heights, it's the legs!

I did not realise that about your legs. I still think it's sane not to want to be strawberry jam... like falling?

But I was staggered by how tall those marigolds grew.

I should add two more photos, and then delete them, but I won't.


560 posts