WEEK 6: The General Lack Of Movement

 

I was up in Yorkshire visiting the folks last weekend. I ate on the train on the way up, then was offered the biggest plate of stew, dumplings and Yorkshire puddings I’d ever seen when I got to my mam and stepdad’s pensioner bungalow. The gravy was THICK. The energy crash in the car to my sister’s was monumental, and once at her house, a Chinese takeaway duly arrived (chicken balls and egg fried rice). It was a bacon sandwich for breakfast before beefburger and chips were ordered at Marr Farm café for a family get-together. I set sail for London, with a pork pie and home-made quiche in my bag, creaking at the seams and felt too full to study much in my new karate book on the LNER train (and downed red wine instead; free cos I was in 1st class).

By Thursday I was still feeling bloated and after a deranged day at work – albeit in front of a computer at home – I felt tired and irritable by the time I arrived for karate on Green Lanes. But that didn’t last long. You leave stress at the door. The other adult from last week hadn’t come back for another serving, so it was me and four kids, as well as the two senseis, Amrit and Harry.

I’ve pretty much figured out that karate runs at a pace where you can barely keep up. You’re shown moves but before you feel comfortable with the manoeuvres, you’re told to bloody well get on with them. And I think that approach works. It keeps you on your toes (more on that shortly). Now, this is also an age thing. I asked if kids learnt quickly and mastered techniques in their stride whereas with middle-aged people like myself, you are literally trying to teach an old dog new tricks. No surprise that the answer to this was “yes”.

I had sensei Harry almost as a one-on-one tutor tonight and I’ll tell you what, he’s a good teacher. Strict; he pulls you up on everything. After the side-kicks tonight, I think I might need kata keyhole surgery. Side-kicks… When you’re an antique oak table like myself, you think you’ll never manage it. Or will I? Added to this, I can’t get my stance right under pressure and I’m flailing about with my arms in the wrong place. I’m like an apprentice dervish sometimes. There’s so much going on, so much to think about – but despite that slight nagging fear of letting myself down, I can feel the synapses in my brain absolutely sparking into life with the deep concentration required.

I have a real sweat on now; my Touring Technique New Order Crew T-shirt (bought to support the New Order roadies during Covid) is going straight in the wash. And a lot of you have been asking about my unsightly nail-bed infection in my big toe. That’s a good question because I can see my fellow karateans are rather put off by it. I’m on Terbinafine tablets and hope to have lovely, glossy, almost girly toenails by the time I pass my grading to white belt. I was told I have improved a lot. I’m keen, and I need a black belt before I’m 60 in 2031. That’s why I was so disappointed when I was told there was no karate next Thursday cos it was a Bank Holiday. The Queen has stopped it. Personally. She rang up the church. “Karate next wike is ite of binds,” she said, apparently. I will massively miss it. Be seeing you!