Rufus Hounds sister

One of the least attractive traits in a women has to be a beard. Fortunately not all of them have one, perish the thought, but some do.
Me and Sam had a walk in to town today, and we usually get the bus home. Well in the queue at the bus station was Rufus Hounds sister. She never had so much a 5 o'clock shadow, more like a half past eight shadow. I can only assume that in the early years of her life she must have slipped a razor around her face, and judging by how coarse the stubble was she still does. Shaving it now must be a vain attempt to keep it under control, or to give her that rugged look, who knows.
 She looks like she is wearing a balaclava. I know what some of you may be thinking, its cruel, but its to late, the damage is done, I've written about her here already, maybe I shouldn't, but I have.

It was quite amusing in that one of the women hairy was with asked said to another women how nice her hair looked, I had to double take to make sure she wasn't talking to Mrs Hound, how cheeky would that have been.
"Your hair looks nice, but I still think you should have left the sideburns. Oh yes a goatee really suits you dear".
Heaven forbid she's married, kissing her husband goodnight could be quite traumatic. Velcro! Stuck together all night, face to face in the eternal kiss. The ripping sound as one of them turns over in their sleep, followed by the scream of pain.
I wonder if she applies after shave? I couldn't smell anything whilst in the queue, but then again, she hadn't shaved for a few days, well I hope it was days and not just yesterday. Anyway, I thought I would just update you on that little event as it tickled me, not her beard you understand, we never got that close.
Just a quick footnote. Me and Sam are still not smoking, its been a couple of months now. We still get the odd strong craving some days, which are as strong as they ever have been but now they just last a minute or two, and not half an hour. We are enjoying spending our pocket money, the money we would have spent each month on cigarettes. We split the money between us and buy something we don't really need, but never the less want.

I think not!

A few weeks ago I received some rather disturbing news. I don't mind bad news, I can normally cope with that ok, within reason I suppose, but this, well this was as I say, disturbing.
I'm of an age now where certain things no longer really matter to much. Getting old means that you have to deal with aches and pains, doing stuff you wouldn't have done a few years back, not being able to do other stuff you could do a few years back. Being able to embarrass the kids easily is one of the perks of getting older and it can be good fun.
However, there are certain things that must remain a no-no, things that age is just not responsible for, and it is unfair to blame it on that.
The disturbing news I received from my friend, which was blamed on age, is the fact that he has been out and purchased 2 pairs of corduroy trousers. Now I can make allowances for most faux pars, be they fashion or anything else, but this, well this is just beyond being forgiven.
He is one of my oldest friends so obviously I approached the subject with care, so as to not hurt his feelings. I told him that if he ever came round my house in them that would be it, I would shun him on my doorstep. Caring enough I think, some times tact is not the way.
He seemed to take it quite well, but the other day he informed me that he is getting another pair. I get the feeling he is trying to corner the corduroy market, thus holding the other corduroy wearers to ransom by artificially inflating the price on the open market. Keep watching the news and I guarantee that within a few weeks the headline will be, "world shortage of corduroy, only one source now available to buyers". There will be a corduroy market, the price will fluctuate like gold.
I sometimes wonder if there has been some form of outside influence in his decision making, maybe the wife. If so it could almost be classed as bullying, domestic abuse, husband beating! Maybe its peer pressure, like when we was at school and one of our friends had new trainers, or t-shirt and we had to get one the same. Maybe my friend is hanging out with folk a lot older than him, and that corduroy is the order of the day for those of a certain age, even so, just stop it now, for the sake of our friendship.

Hurry up family come on

Must be getting old, came in from the pub with Sam and the kids absolutely knackered. I am know having a much needed Sunday after diner rest.
How is it that we ate at the pub, Sunday diner, and come home tired yet if we had eaten at home we would be fine. Do you think they put something in it?
On a completely different note. It has just been announced on the local news that a car driver escaped serious injury when a rock was thrown from a bridge over the A14. There was a spate of these incidents on the A12 a few months ago. Trouble is, while the press give these idiots publicity they will think its cool. It also means that others think its cool to do something that will make the news so they join in, and you end up with a fad, all it needs then is a cool name.
The press have been guilty of this kind of notorious fame for years now. Giving things a cool name, like joy riding, and happy slapping. Don't make it sound cool and give it air time and it will die out.
It's pretty much the same thing with terrorists, don't give them publicity. They do these things to get noticed and it therefore goes that if no one hears about it they don't achieve their goal.
I understand that this is a very simplistic point of view but I really believe there's something in it.
We are in the age of small time fame and some people will do anything for it.

On trial

I've always been a goalkeeper, from my earliest years through to my early 40s, and my one sporting claim to fame is having a trial at a professional football club, Colchester United.
I was about 15, I was definitely still at school as I remember the school keeper getting the hump about it. I never played for the school, I never got the chance, it always seemed to be a bit of a closed shop, kind of like, if you face fits.
I went over to the trial with one of my mates from school. We got off the bus at the train station, which as it turned out was an appalling move. Neither of us had been to Layer Road before, and as it turned out, my friend still wouldn't have after our trip.
We walked for what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably only an hour or so. We walked along the Avenue of Remembrance to the very top where the road forks, it was at this point that we thought, we will never find the ground, I've just googled the directions and it turns out the way we was going was about 4.5 miles.
I returned home, a slightly disappointed would be professional goalkeeper, but also slightly relieved. Relieved due to the fact that I was incredibly nervous, more nervous than I had been and indeed ever would be.
How did you get on? Mum asked, when I got back home.
Didn't find it, I said, didn't look hard enough, was what I should have said.
She told me to get in touch with Colchester and inform them of this fact, which i duly did.
I got another chance a few weeks later, I didn't take my mate to this one!
I found it the next time and boy was I nervous, again. I was to be disappointed, on 2 counts as it happens. Firstly, the Layer Road pitch was unavailable on the day of our trial, there was a first team home game later in the week. We had to play at the garrison ground, which is across the road and a short walk from the ground. We used the changing rooms at Layer Road and took the short stroll to the pitch.
There was, what seems like now, hundreds of young would be stars there, and I was one of a good few keepers.
We was split in to 4 teams, plus some others who were substitutes, a couple of which were goalkeepers. I was put into a team and we took to the pitch, for the first stage of trying to impress a coach. Now if your waiting for the happy ending, and are easily disappointed I suggest you leave now. It didn't go well, it seemed to me that the team I had been put in was the best side on the day and therefore not much action at my end. Nerves eventually got the better of me and I had to come off after about 30 minutes or so, my stomach was in knots. I didn't hear anything after from Colchester, and to tell you the truth I wasn't overly surprised, but I gave it a go, and failed miserably!
I carried on playing, Sunday league stuff mostly which I always enjoyed.

Xsara Picasso takes Mercedes, checkmate

Up early Sunday morning to watch the Australian F1, and upon pulling back the curtains in the living room imagine my complete horror, 2 of the car owning families in the square had been playing car chess.
You see in our square most of the family's own more than one car and this means they have their own space, ah bless. This means that if someone parks out of place all sorts of trouble ensues, doors are slammed, loud tutting is performed and neighbours are ignored for days.
Seemed that one of the offenders had had the cheek to park in the wrong spot, so when the aggrieved party returned home he parked right behind the offenders other car, thus blocking it in. Grow up for Christ sake. Last year the council put in some extra parking bays, 8 in total but the 2 families mentioned here don't use them, heaven forbid. Why would you, when you can get a few feet closer to your front door.
It took until about 11:00am for the offender to move his first car, this allowed him to move his second car, almost checkmate by this time.
What he had done was to move the car which was in 'the wrong' space into a bay, goodness me, he then moved his other car into its previous space, thus stopping the offended moving in to his space. These people really need to grow up, there all middle aged and should know better.
Eventually the offended managed to put his car in its rightful place, and the the world was once again at peace.
I was, at one stage thinking of phoning our local newspaper and writing to my local MP, to inform them of the injustice which was playing out in front of my eyes.
When they started addressing the situation I had the urge to pop my head out of my front door and inform them as to how pathetic they are acting, but I showed restraint, and was proud of myself for showing it.
They're the sort of people who think its ok to park where they like, but park in their space at your peril.
Sad people indeed, but none the less very entertaining.

A tale of 2 siblings

In some of the past posts I have mentioned my daughter, I think I may have mentioned the son in one of them as well. They couldn't be more different. Charlotte will try anything, give it a go then cast it aside, but at least she tried. Mark, on the other hand, couldn't care less about doing stuff that doesn't involve either the computer or games console, professionally lazy our son.
Mark has just come round to the fact that if he wants stuff now he may have to, god forbid, go out and get a job, I can see the beads of sweet building on his brow at the very mention of the words, going out.
I do, and in the case of our son, did, give them pocket money for doing chores. Charlotte will wash up, take the dog out with Sam and other small jobs for a bit extra, but they have to earn their money. Mark does, well, nothing really, and when I first stopped his money he just couldn't grasp the concept that maybe if you do sod all you earn sod all. He gets it now, the concept that is, but as he's 18, pocket money wouldn't get him what he wants so he's not overly bothered. He wants a new computer, that means a part time job, unlucky, and unlikely!
He goes to college most of the week but needs something for the weekends. He's handed out a few CV's and now just waits. Which is an improvement on how it used to be, I'm sure that before he sat in doors and waited for an employer to knock and ask if he was looking for a job.
I know that when Charlotte is 16 she will start looking, she will get one as well, as she will put in all the effort needed.
His attitude seems to be, well I've sent out the CV's whats keeping them from calling. The only thing in his favour is the he doesn't drink, or go out, or socialise, or leave his room, so he needs minimal funds, if any in fact.
Asking them both about what they want to do when they leave school, or college you get two answers.
Charlotte will real off a list of things she might do, these sometimes change, but at least she gives it some thought, and has something to aim at.Mark on the other hand hasn't a clue, and he's nearly at the stage of getting a job, he will get the fright of his life, oh how I will laugh, I wont though will I, I'll be out there with him looking, trying to help.
I gave them, and still do to Charlotte, the old parental rubbish about trying hard at school or you will end up in a dead end job like the old man. Maybe if my old man had been around to say that to me I would have done better, but, hey ho!
It makes you feel old though when you start reeling off the stuff the parents said to us as kids. Things like; Your not going out like that are you? Try hard at school. Ha, school, its the best years of your life.
You kids don't know when you got it easy, and finally the oldy but goody, you never had it so good, we had to make our own fun. Brilliant, I honestly can remember thinking all them years ago, when I have kids I'm not saying any of this stuff like an old misery, but here I am, giving them both barrels, wonderful.

Sell you some energy sir, oh, suits you sir

Just had one of these energy companies trying to get us to sign up with them. Gets on your tits to be honest, if I wanted to change I would do a search on the Internet and then change.

But we are cheaper than who your with, goes the spiel.
I know that, why else would you be knocking. He has a laptop which must have all the address details, I'm sure it tells them all they need to know.
No, I'm not interested.
Not interested in saving money then sir?
No!
Can I ask why?
Yes.
Yes what?
Yes you can ask why.
The poor sap on my doorstep smiles a watery smile. Why don't you want to change, we can save you loads of money.
I've just left your lot to go back to who I left to join you.
Why?
Because I wanted to.
But we really are cheaper.
I know that, I was told that on the phone, I just don't want to. Your lot told me I'd be able to change from a prepayment meter to a Direct debit account straight away, but when I changed over and tried I was told I needed to be with you for a year. Lies, then really, just to get a bit of custom. And another thing, lets face it, your all thieving gits anyway.
But it will cost more to change the meter with the company you went back to.
I don't care really, I'll keep it as it is, I only changed back out of spite really, due to the lie.
We will always be cheaper than British Gas for gas he tells me. When they put their price down we put ours down, and when they put their price up we still make sure we're still cheaper.
So you still put it up then, being greedy, just cant break the habit can you. Why not buck the trend and leave it alone when everyone else puts theirs up, how much extra custom would that get you?

I know it sounds really pathetic, but in my opinion it was the worst thing ever when the power company was privatised. It just breeds more greed. I know that if one company has the monopoly they can be greedy, but look at the energy companies, tell me their not greedy. The rich get richer and the poor get colder.
We're putting our prices down by 6%, goes the big advert. Yeah, right, you put it up by about 25% over the past year, so well done.
In all fairness all the companies are as bad as one another. We was with one of them a few years back and when we left they kept taking payments from our account for another two months, as if they didn't get enough in the first place.
They are the lowest of the low all of them. We are with, what we would consider, the best of a bad bunch.

Alan Archer 1964-2012

I'll try not to get all maudlin, and just put some stuff that sums Al up.
The three words I would use to sum up Al are happy grumpy sod! I think this sums Al up totally. If he was your friend you could forgive him his downfalls. We always got on great, we knew each other from the age of about 12 until his untimely passing far to early, so if we cant say how it is now we never can. I hasten to add that there's nothing here that I havent said to him in the past.
I don't remember us ever having any major failing's out over so many years, you said the wrong thing and it was sorted the same day. His mates new just how to take him, with a pinch of embarrassment usually, due to something he said, just that little bit to loud.
I'll upload a couple of photos here as a little tribute, to a little fella with a big heart.

Getting shirty with dinner

The only bloke I know who can fall out of a tent

Fence!, Al's handling of the English language was really coming along.

The top two pictures are when me and Al went to Bradfield near Maningtree, must have been about 1980ish. We stayed in a campsite in the grounds of a Pub, The Strangers Inn. Al with pub right next door, this was only ever going to be a good trip. I'm not sure why we got those potatoes out as I'm sure we ate in the pub every night. As you can tell, all three photos show Al in his skinhead phase. He went through almost every musical genre over time, but always seemed to go back to his first love, a little bit of rock.

He was an avid collector of Subbuteo. He loved nothing better than  painting his own kits, and modifying teams he had , but, in all honesty, and I told him on many occasions, he was crap at it, like he cared, and like most things, if you enjoyed doing it where is the harm.
We used to go and watch Colchester United most home games between 1980 and 83, and I remember with much laughter me and him taking in a U's home game against Charlton. Just before the game kicked off it turned out that a few Charlton fans had got in the U's end. We both noticed this and I quickly made a run for it down to the cafe under the stand. I turned around to make sure Al was ok only to find he had not followed me. I crept back up the concrete steps and found Al getting to his feet, roughly where we had been standing. Turns out he had copped and unfortunate one just as we was about to run away. He was alright though, we laughed about it, which, upon reflection seems a little mean, as I'm laughing about a mate getting a slap, but no harm was done, and it got a load of mentions over the years.

What can I say about his good and bad points.
Well the good points would definitely be headed by his generosity, if he could help he would. He was normally up for a laugh., and if there was a beer or six involved even better. He had a huge character in a small body, and if you found it offencive well, you just stayed away. As a mate you accepted it as Alan, its the way he was. His language was usually fruity, and he would always say things just as he found them. He had opinions on nearly everything. I may be making him out to sound like a right horrible sod, but no, this was him, this was how he was and its for these reasons that we loved him. 
Bad points, honestly, as a friend, I cant think of any. I took him as he was, he said it like it was, but I can see with his opinions that some people would find it hard to get on with him. He was known to say the odd controversial thing just a little loud, but he normally got away with it.
For the past couple of years he has been unable to get out quite as much as he would have liked but this didn't stop him getting on with life, he faced all the crap the world could, and did, throw at him, he moaned about it, but he got on with it, which is something to be proud of. Having said that, with all the crap he had to deal with over the years he was more than entitled to have a moan.
He loved his family with a passion, and I don't ever remember hearing him say a bad word against them, and he wouldn't hear a bad word said about them either.
One word to finish off.
LOYAL!

A life more ordinary

Let me talk you through a few old, embarrassing, photos from my childhood.
This first one must be from about 1972, on Clacton Pier, in Essex.
I'm on the right :-) The child with the hideous shorts, they took the word shorts to new lengths, they were short shorts!
The girl in the photo was our next door neighbours daughter, Jackie, I put this photo up on Facebook and she thanked me for choosing the one where the candyfloss covered her face.
The only way of telling it was from around 1972, is going by the fact that my brother wasn't there, he's nearly 10 years younger than me, and dad was, he was in another photo taken the same day. Mum and dad split up in late 73, early 74 so hence the guess at the date.
I don't remember anything truly memorable happening on this day trip, but apart from those shorts, the only other thing that stands out in that photo is the fact that I seem to have someone else's legs on, and on the wrong way round as well.
Dress shoes with shorts, and those socks, please, if you dressed a child like that today you would have social services come down on you like a tonne of bricks.
The main problem with looking back over old photos of yourself as a child is that there really is not going to be anything to like. I probably thought I looked terrific, oh dear. I certainly did in some of the photos of me in my teens, and early 20s, Jack the lad, more like Jack the twat looking back at them now. Still, you gotta laugh, as everyone else will.

The next picture is of me and mum. I wouldn't like to guess the year, but if i had to I would suggest about 1983, give or take a year or two.
This photo was taken at one of the many parties held at our next door neighbours, probably new years eve.
Like I say in the post above, Jack the twat, having said that my hair seems remarkably calm for once. In my back pocket you can just spot the cause of this calm, a comb, quite probably a little used comb, but none the less, still a comb.
I quite like this photo, as this is how I want to remember mum. Now I don't want to get all maudlin here, suffice to say mum is still with us, but unfortunately she has Alzheimer's, which is very advanced, to the stage where she cannot communicate nor does she recognise faces, such a hideous illness.
Anyway, we had loads of parties at new years eve and mums family would travel down which really made them an occasion we always looked forward to, besides, it was next door so if you had to much to drink you could fall in doors.
Mum loved these get together's, she really was in her element at them. She would have a smile on her face all night, drink gin, dance, smoke, get drunk and go to bed. A great evening for mum, but being an only parent she deserved these parties, she did a wonderful job.
If I had to hazard a guess at my shoe colour in this picture it would almost definitely be white, oh yeah baby, special. By the way, the shirt is a very pale pink, I had style in them days I'm sure you would agree :-)

The curtains are twitching

Just under the Internet explorer bar when I'm on my blog there is another bar which says, among other things, next blog. By clicking this title I can explore my neighbours blogs and see what they have been up to.
Boy O boy must they be disappointed in me. I can hear them saying to each other, have you seen who's moved into the area, just over there, look there he is, look what he's writing about, I suppose he thinks its funny.
I looked through about 6 or 7 of them and most, if not all where religious based. Sending glad tidings to people, wishing people Gods speed.
I look back over my own blog and feel incredibly ashamed of myself, cats in bins, to knackered to ride my bike, giving up smoking (those people would never have started), ugly people, football and talking about death, what a load of old crap, but, I love it. I wouldn't change even if asked. I thought writing this would just be a flash in the pan, but no, I really enjoy it. Getting stuff off your chest is really quite therapeutic. Who cares if I embarrass myself, I just love making people laugh. If one person stumbles on my blog and leaves having had a little chuckle I would have achieved my goal.
So really, as much as they love their blogs about religion and such like, and they do a good job, but they can get a little samey, you can keep all that stuff, write about what you know best, and I know crap!

Let me wipe that off for you

Wednesday 9th March, 2011, a date that is etched into my mind, and will remain so forever.
Why?
I'll tell you.
I was in town on the above day, with Sam, just window shopping and looking at stuff we wanted but couldn't afford, when we spotted a friends mum walking towards us. Shes a lovely women, really warm and genuinely friendly, the sort of person you would hate to offend, and boy did I hate offending her, enter me, stage left.
I noticed, as we got closer, that she had a blemish, dirt, filth, stain, a large black mark on her forehead.
How embarrassing I thought, it was a busy day in town and I do try to look out for people I care about.
Hi, I said, with a warm smile, you've got some black stuff on your face, just there, I made a gesture towards the said blemish.
Yes, she said, its Ash Wednesday.
As she said this, the mark seemed to take shape, bloody hell, its a cross I thought. I then remembered that she is a practising catholic, and that this is what some of them do at this time, draw a cross from ash on their foreheads.
I looked again, just to make sure, yep, definitely a cross, how could I be so stupid. I dared not catch her eye again, I just mumbled my goodbyes, head down and away. I looked at Sam when we was a few yards away and that was it, she had tears streaming down her face, and trying to catch her breath through the laughter, I was still absolutely mortified, I couldn't say anything, why didn't I just keep my gob shut?
All I can say is that I am glad I never had a handkerchief with me as I still remember the times my mum would lick hers and wipe dirt from around my face, nasty.
It still gets a mention every now and again, especially a week or so ago, when Ash Wednesday once more came around.
I never went to town then.
I have seen her since, and yes she does still speak, like I said, she is a lovely person.

Theres a cat in the kitchen what am I gonna do!

What is it that makes us have those really stupid thoughts? The sort of thought where you know what your thinking cant possibly have happened, or be happening but doesn't stop you having them.
I had one such moment a few weeks ago now. We had, up until last week, a cat, ginger in colour, which we rather inventively called Ginger, sadly she died last week at the age of 15, she had a good innings.
Anyway, over the last few months of her life she developed a penchant for climbing in the kitchen bin, In the style of many a cartoon cat, Top Cat springs to mind.
This particular moment happened when we still smoked. We always smoked in the area of the house we referred to as the outhouse, an area just off the kitchen with a door to the garden which we opened whilst smoking.
Well as me and Sam walked out for a smoke I noticed an inch of something poking out of the bin lid, which had closed right up. I stopped and bent down to have a look at what i first thought was a small portion of rubber washing up glove, but, upon lifting the lid and peering inside I saw it was Ginger, it was the last couple of inches of her tail. Unfortunately for me 'oh, its Ginger' wasn't the first thought I had oh no, the first thought was 'whos thrown away a perfectly good cat'. I mean, please, what sort of thought is that? Where did that come from, thrown the cat away! Now, if it was in the street, and not our bin or cat it may not seem such a stupid thought, but as she was our cat, in the bin inside our house, well sometimes the mind defies belief. Needless to say Ginger didn't see the funny side, as I pulled her from the bin, but boy Sam did, and still does, along with my daughter, who was informed the very moment she came in from school.

But its not though, is it!

I suppose it's time I gave an update on the non smoking. Well, we are still going strong. Tuesday 6th was 6 weeks.
I still get the odd day where I really could give in, I don't think theres a trigger, it just kind of hits you. Trouble is, when you have a mega craving you only remember how good it was to smoke. The fortunate thing is that it does not hang around to long, maybe a couple of minutes and it's gone.
It is good not being reliant on the cigarettes, knowing that most days we get through without giving them a second thought.
The only time I can foresee a proper craving coming is when I get a car, I did enjoy a smoke whilst in the car, but it made the car stink.

Death.....What is it good for?????????

Well to be truthful I'm not to sure.
I don't profess to being an expert, nor am I overly religious, but I do give the death question a bit of thought now and again.
I wouldn't say I sit around with my head in my hands, moaning Oh woe is me, nor do I lose sleep over it, I just ponder the question "is this it?"
I tend to write these blogs on the fly, nothing scripted, just an initial thought and I then let my fingers run across the keyboard, my fingers are not ugly (see last blog post).
I think about the fact that surely this cant be it, one attempt and that's your lot, what about the folk who put a lot of effort in? Nope, there must definitely be more to it.
We hear all sort of stories about near death experiences, the fact that they are so similar may not mean anything really, it just means people listen to others, but we cant dismiss them out of hand, there's no smoke without fire.
Unfortunately we wont find out categorically until its just to late, bummer, but be patient you will find out, unless you are a vamipre! I can add to the mix though, I think I'm allowed.
See, I think its all linked to the ultimate question, "what is the meaning of life?" What if this is just the start, death is our birth into real life. I'm not sure I want to go through another birth really though, Ive seen videos, and been present at a couple, and they are awfully messy, lots of muck and stuff, crying and sweat, yuk!
The light people see in their near death experience could be the, well you know what I mean. Out of the dark, into the light, BANG!
Picture the scene, an 80 year old passes forth into, what I'm calling birth, covered in stuff, crying and screaming, and then that first look around. He/she looks round, looks down at themself, see the stuff all over them, tuts loudly, and falls over, Zimmer frames dont get reborn!
Then what? I don't know, like I said, I write this on the fly, it just spews forth. If it seems funny or interesting I'll put it here to see what you think. Leave the odd comment if you like, nothing rude though, I'll just remove them and you would have wasted 30 seconds of your birth time!

Ugly folk do not jog

It's a fact of exercise life that ugly folk do not jog. Now I understand that beauty is in the eye of the beholder but I can't remember the last time I drove, or walked down a street, saw someone jogging and had to double take at there unfortunate non good looks.


Art by Skip

To another jogger I suppose other joggers may not be quite as good looking as themselves but to us mere non joggers they are all fine specimens of the human race.
I see people out jogging and look at them with an envious eye. I'd love to do it, I really would, but alas that's where my enthusiasm ends, thinking I'd like to do it. I'd be a great jogger, if I could only be bothered.
If your reading this and consider yourself ugly and you jog your probably not really ugly. It's all subjective see, ugliness. I'm not the most handsome bloke to have ever roamed the planet, probably the reason I don't run, but to me you may not be ugly, relatively speaking.
You can probably use this rule for most forms of exercise, bike riding, skiing and so on. I can safely say though, that you will see ugly people riding bikes, that I can guarantee, but not for exercise, they will be going somewhere with a purpose, like to work, but it won't be for sport. Watch the ladies skiing on TV, they are all models, or should be, why is this the case, what rule is there that states ugly people don't exercise.

Im all out of puff, I'm so lost without it!

In my infinite wisdom I thought that, as I am now officially a none smoker, I would be able to do anything. Get the bike out, pump up the sadly underused tyres and go for an adventure. I'm just going for a bike ride dear, I told the wife, I'll shoot up to Tesco, anything you need?
With the list in hand, it wasn't a long list by any stretch of the imagination; I set off. Its about 2.5 miles from my house to the local Tesco, easy, see you soon.
Well, giving up smoking, and doing sod all exercise does not get you fit, not at all.
 I got about halfway, I was in the industrial estate which is built on a steady slope, note, not a hill, just a steady slope, but it may as well have been one of the mountain stages in the Tour de France. I got halfway up the slope and had to stop, not by choice, no, I really had to stop, I was knackered. I got off and nearly fell over, suddenly I no longer had legs, my weight was being supported by two sticks of jelly. I couldn't move, I dared not move, they had minds of their own, and one proceeded to venture off one way, whilst the other didn't think it was a good idea to go anywhere at all.
After a minute or two, of looking at my phone, I needed to check my emails anyway, a quite brilliant deception to fool the passing car drivers, who otherwise would have scoffed, I thought I should push on, not on the bike though, I wasnt ready for that just yet, no, I'll be walking for a while. I thought to myself how bloody sad it must look, someone pushing their bike, after all I'm sure I have ridiculed many a bike pusher over the years. Limp, that's it I'll limp, go for the sympathy vote; so I moved on slowly, bike being pushed along at my side, and a really nasty limp, the illusion was complete, I almost fooled myself.
I eventually reached Tesco, I did ride again after a couple of minutes, when the slope levelled out, and became downhill.
I picked up the bits I needed, but boy was I warm, I must have looked like a beetroot, I'm sure a few people looked at me in that, boy you don't look well, kind of way.
The trip home is a breeze, down hill apart from a couple of nasty little kicks up slope, when I slowed right down, almost to a stop at least once.
I got in and proceeded to tell Sam all about the limping saga, she then informed me that half the cars that had driven past where probably going to Tesco, and would be saying to each other, there's that bloke who was limping by the side of his bike half a mile back, looks alright now!
Cheers for that babe, I thought I'd really pulled it off, but alas no.
Tomorrow, exercises starts, well that's the theory anyway.