Totley Two Turtle Doves Fell Race
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...a Fitbit Smart Watch wrapped up so elegantly.
Less than twenty-four hours after receiving my activity tracker, I’m surmising my wife was having second thoughts regarding the technical device she’d bestowed upon me. Alison couldn’t disguise her frustrated demeanour; facial expressions and body language displayed signs of obvious regret towards the choice she’d made for my Yuletide gift. In a moment of self-reflection she’d remembered that I’m a luddite - I simply don’t do technology. Alison remained non-verbal but arched eyebrows, crossed arms and stiff posture were telltale signs that she was less than impressed with my technophobe tendencies. Eventually she responded to my endless inquisitive questioning by calling me a “cotton headed ninny muggins”. Alison’s charming jibe was acquired from the recently watched Christmas film Elf. I’m expecting that “cotton headed ninny muggins” will become our satirical comeback from herein whenever we witness acts of numpty-ness between ourselves. I envisage it being quoted many times in the future, admittedly by Alison more so than myself, as on average I’m probably a “cotton headed ninny muggins” at least thrice a day.
Also, on the first day of Christmas my parents were pleased to see...pigs in blankets served up alongside the turkey.
We played host to my parents on Christmas Day. My dad’s aftershave made my eyes water, I don’t think he’s ever been familiar with the term ‘less is more’ - especially where the application of men’s fragrance is concerned. Little pieces of toilet paper haphazardly applied to small shaving wounds about his face had my eyes watering once again, this time through laughter. His bloodied face was apparently all my mums fault as she’d not bought him any new razors. My mum rolled her eyes and shoved him into the dining room - I laughed furthermore. Old Spice is his current aftershave of choice, he used to favour Hai Karate but in recent years it’s become increasingly difficult to purchase...so my mum says. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad has never actually been inside any shop other than a pie shop and the bookies.
Back in the day before I’d flown the nest my parents would meet their friends Janice and Bernard every Saturday for a night of merriment and entertainment down at the local Working Men’s Club. My parents would often listen to the Lancashire folk group Houghton Weavers whilst getting ready for their big night out...”oh folk! not this shit again” would usually be muttered under my breath. I wouldn’t like to say who overindulged the most - my dad splashing on his Hai Karate? or my mum applying her blue eyeshadow? In my mums defence it was the early eighties - she was keeping with the fashion, my dad’s actions were indefensible...he reeked. The bygone Hai Karate Aftershave would include self-defence instructions to help wearers “fend off women”. My dad would ask me to fetch an imaginary shitty-stick as a preventative measure in case my mum turned overly amorous at the mere whiff of his fragrance. During the later stages of my adolescence I’d frequently sneak a cheeky splash of my dad’s Hai Karate - believing the hype. I certainly don’t remember being inundated with female attention; no fending off was ever required, a shitty-stick was never waved. Personally I think the fragrance was falsely marketed, even television ads would use the catch phrase “be careful how you use it”...indicating a pheromones overload would entice countless ladies. From experience I can categorically state it was bobbins, I didn’t get a sniff, so to speak. All these years later and my dad is still overgenerous with the aftershave and he still listens to the Houghton Weavers. Thankfully my mum has moved with the times and toned down the blue eyeshadow but unfortunately now listens to Adele and Michael Buble...on a regular basis.
My late grandad Bob certainly wasn’t an advocate for men’s fragrance, he called it ‘sissy juice’ and any bloke who used it was a ‘big girl’s blouse’...my grandad Bob wasn’t one to mince his words. Surprisingly Bob had a sensitive side and I always think about him at Christmas, especially when I hear The Queen’s Speech. As a mark of respect he’d always stand up during the speech, only to be then shouted down by my grandma, “sit down Bob you daft beggar, you’re making room look untidy”. Looking back I think my grandparents had rehearsed the royalty routine, they did it every year and never failed to get a laugh.
On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me...turkey and stuffing butties for my trip to Totley.
Totley Two Turtle Doves is relatively new to the fell calendar, this year’s race was only the third running of this Peak District event. On the morning of the race my Fitbit Smart Watch displayed a poor sleep score, I must’ve been restless with excitement for the race. And rightfully so, it’s a charming event with a variety of terrain to contend with; tarmac, woods, bridleways and sheep grazed fields. It’s a great race for getting back to normality after the previous day of gluttony, as there’s nothing too technical but it’s an energy sapping runnable route with a few little climbs and an enjoyable final descent. Many thanks to Steve and all helpers. After the race my new Smart Watch informs me my fitness is excellent for a man of my age. I’d been feeling quite sluggish recently but my new fitness device evidently thinks otherwise. With this in mind I headed back to the van with a spring in my step, I couldn’t wait to get home to tell Alison she has a fit husband.
When I arrived home I told my wife the good news regarding my apparent excellent fitness levels. She looked more inquisitive than impressed. Alison asked if I’d been in a rush when leaving the house that morning, as I’d obviously not had time to survey the downstairs toilet. I’m told she was unpleasantly surprised to find out I was a motorsports enthusiast...I was confused by my wife’s assessment. It all made sense when she told me “you’d left the bog with more skidmarks than Brands Hatch Race Circuit”. I felt bashful and duly apologised, however she hadn’t quite finished. Alison then asked what were the chances of me doing a race called Two Turtle Doves and me leaving three turtles heads in the toilet. I tried to make light of the situation by pointing out that numerically I’d left one turtle’s head too many for her connection to be factually correct. Alison snapped back that I’d actually left three turtles heads too many to be ethically correct. I should’ve then accepted I was in the wrong but said “it’s a pity the Yorkshire puddings you served up with the Christmas dinner hadn’t risen as well as my bowel movements”...Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
I’m such a...”cotton headed ninny muggins”.
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