I’ve only just recovered enough to type.
Saturday was spent with some very good friends at the soft play area at Ratho indoor climbing centre. Two hyper boys, one soft play area and two ageing, unfit Dads was always going to be a recipe for pain. And it was for me. When I woke up Sunday morning, I felt like I had been working out at the gym.
The soft play area was great fun. Having a kid is a fantastic excuse to be the loony you could never acceptably be in any other environment. We found ourselves sliding down helter skelter like slides, squeezing between two huge padded rollers (similar to passing through a mangle) and crawling through fibreglass tunnels suspended about 15 feet off the ground. All good stuff.
Let’s face it though. On more than one occassion I found myself in a place where a 37 year old, 14 stone man was not supposed to be. Plain and simple.
Magic.
My brain hurts today. I was travelling back into town today, trying to read my book and all I could hear in the background was a bunch of students from Stevenson College discussing their sex lives (or more to the point, lack thereof). Even more annoyingly, on my way out to my appointment, I couldn’t concentrate on my book because the worlds fattest man had decided to sit next to me, squash me into the bus window face first and spread the majority of his broadsheet newspaper across my personal space.
No wonder my brain is buzzing.
on Mar 4th, 2009 at 4:49 pm
Isn’t Ratho an astonishing place? I took my son to a party there and could not believe the size of it. And that rooftop hanging-from-a-harness assault course thing – shudder!