The Weight Of Blood*

On my bike at the gym.  Gazing out of the window in front of me, I pedal as fast as possible whilst writing.  It’s autumnal out there: brown leaves, grey sky and people strolling past wearing coats.  Am going to cycle for thirty minutes and then do some weights.

Writing this on my bike is unlikely to produce great work, or good exercise.  On the plus side: it will mean that have ticked two things off my list of stuff-to-do-before-Seb-arrives later today.

1.  Unload dishwasher.  It’s running now.

2.  Put a wash on.

3.  Hang up washing.

4.  Hang dresses up.

5.  Unpack.

6.  Put suitcases away.

7.   Make lunch.

8.  Eat lunch.

9.  Wash up pans.

10.  Tidy bedroom.

“You’ve put on even more weight on holiday, I notice,” the panther says, from the exercise bike next to mine. He’s not pedalling, of course.  His whole enormous self is draped along the bike.  His tail dangles down to the floor.

“Everyone puts on weight on holiday,” I say, looking straight in front of me.

“Seb will take one look at you and vomit with disgust,” the panther says, poking my tummy with a huge paw.

“He won’t,” I say.  “He will be focusing on his present and his artichoke that I’m cooking for him.”

“He’ll hate that stupid picture,” the panther says, licking a paw and wiping his face with it.

“Seb loves me,” I say, feeling even less certain than usual about this.  Am going to lift some heavy weights.  That will cheer me up.

Attached photo is a 1923 Chenard & Walcker U3 – 15 CV Torpedo Sport.  The first ever winner of the Le Mans 24 hour endurance Grand Prix.

Happy Tuesday everyone!
*2014.  By Laura McHugh.  Thriller.

2 thoughts on “The Weight Of Blood*

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s