So ...

... that was weekend.

Over a four day period of time I trained 8 hours, got a new chicken and got new shoes.

The chicken ... a neighbour kid rang our bell with a very apathic looking bird in a shoebox. Turns out that the animal was released where he keeps his pony because it won't lay eggs anymore and the owners were too squeemish to dispose of the animal and too poor, obviously, to take care of an animal. Or, you know, they didn't care. It was a member of a group of four released birds, three of which were already taken by the local fox and weasel population (nice ... foxes and weasels!) and number four arrived at our doorstep. Nice people as we are we took the sad little bird in thinking it would drop dead of shock. Fortunately, the thing took one sniff of the food presented to it and immediately started pecking at the bowl like a headbanger at a megadeth concert. When the bowl was empty it simply stuffed it's head under a wing and went to sleep. the next morning it sort of behaved totally normal, for a chicken, which is a wholly different and altogether strange type of normal, and it has been going strong ever since. The latest report was that it was walking free in the livingroom, shitting everywhere and generally being a nuisance. We like animals. Please give me more chickens like this. They are fun. Pure comedy gold ...

The new shoes. The old ones were ... well, stuck together with duct tape, to be honest, so it was time for a new pair. I usually wear these heavy duty mountaineering shoes, way, way, WAY to heavy for daily use (at least judging from the surprised and slightly horrified faces of the sales ladies) but there is something to be said for wearing your own, expensive, concrete shoes ... if the mob ever comes calling you can say that you brought your own. At least THAT way you can ensure comfort, even whilst at the bottom of a handy river.

They're also water-tight.

New shoes are great, though. I like a little resistance and nothing gives resistance like new shoes so tight they make it neigh impossible for anyone to walk normally. I'm audible again. Five kilos of leather and rubber on my feet. God, and there are still people who wonder where I get my truly wonderful calves and leg muscles. Seriously, it has been a project of 20 years but the results are stunning. I now have awesome legs. Be jealous.

Of course, those awesome legs have been encased in shoes which are ... at best ... not very fashion sensible. But then again, I hate fashion fascists. (Having said that I LURVVVV the Fashion Channel. they have this show, Models Talk, which is just a beautiful oxymoron, emphasis on moron.)

So, I'm currently able to climb mountains again. I'll do that as soon as one is discovered in Amsterdam (Amsterdam heeft het). For now though, I'll have to break them in walking to the central station. Subway services are patchy and suspended today seeing as somebody took it upon him to derail a metro using the time-honoured principle of not closing the rails. That would do the trick to be sure ... twats.