Well, not literally the saddle. Back to karate after the summer break. And back to some quite startling levels of incompetence. Forgetting what the Japanese terms mean. Losing the ability to do separate things with different limbs. Kicking with all the force of large flabby teddy bear. Not even an angry teddy bear, a useless one.
An angry teddy bear might conceivably be a force to be reckoned with. Like Kung Fu Panda. (My favourite line from that film: 'There is no charge for awesomeness!' I quote it now and then to my sons, when I've baked an exceptionally fine batch of muffins, or something. They look at me steadily for a moment or two, then go back to texting their friends with a little shake of the head. Mum.)
Still, it felt good to be back. The next grading is on November 13th. Unfortunately, I may not have been to enough classes by then to qualify. I need to have attended 25 sessions. I told sensei it was going to be tight. He replied that there's another grading in March, so not to worry. I pondered his wisdom as I walked home. It doesn't matter, I thought. I do not have to convert this into some ghastly challenge that I'm locked into and must achieve at all costs. I do not have to get another black belt before I'm 60, or be forever branded a worthless weakling and a failure. I could just do karate (gasp!) for fun.
This is a character flaw of mine. My life is rather nice; quick, what can I do to make it intolerably anguished? Probably comes from being a northern European Protestant. And an over-achieving people-pleasing Grammar School Girl, just to compound the problem. Bad person! I must address this. Must have more fun. Must relax and enjoy life more. Must stop caring if I look incompetent.
See what I mean? Dude, think I'm just going to go and smoke a cigar instead...
About this blog
This is a window into the weird world of Anglicanism, as experienced on a Cathedral Close. Has anything much happened since Trollope's Barchester Chronicles? You will still see the 'canon in residence' hurrying across to choral Evensong, robes flapping, as the late bell chimes. But look carefully and you will notice he is checking the football score on his iPhone as he runs. This is also a writer's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the novelist's life. And it's a fighter's blog. It charts the agony and ecstasy of the judo mat. Well, the agony, anyway.