Walking

Saturday was the SSAFA 13 Bridges walk, coinciding with Armed Forces Day. Our Cyprus version had been moved forward to an 05:30 meet, in the hope of swerving the most extreme heat. Debbie, my walking partner, was suffering with an infection, but was determined to complete the walk. We had walked the route a couple of weeks ago, and so were confident that we would manage.

The nine of us split, two of Debbie's colleagues took off at the front, with us following. The remaining five were at more of a chilled saunter behind us. We headed east along the promenade, as the sun rose in front of us. Astonishingly, the beach-side cafes were buzzing. The locals were out in force, claiming their favourite tables for a Saturday at the beach. I got the impression that some of them had been following the same ritual for decades.

As the sun rose higher, so did the mercury and whatever rises when the humidity climbs. It was steamy. Conversation dropped off. I was beginning to struggle. My knees were complaining, and soon enlisted support from my quads. "All OK?" I asked Debbie. "Harder today." There's comfort in knowing that it's not me, that Debbie is struggling too. Neither of us was in trouble, but this was much more of a slog than we anticipated. We caught up with Mandy and Sue as we approached the turn point and set off west, with the sun at our backs. The humidity increased steadily. By now, quads, calves and hamstrings were unified in their complaints. The joint section was competing for attention, with knees and ankles creaking. I was footsore, and my fingers were swollen chipolatas, adding a dull ache to the symphony.

We kept up a steady pace, all trying not to whinge. We were hot, sweaty and aching, but there was no way we were going to back off.

At nine am, Debbie's watch announced that we had completed the ten miles and a minute or two later we were back at the car park whence we'd started, three hours and fifteen minutes earlier. That equates to 5+ km/h with the odd stop on the way. That's a decent pace.

Thanks to Stationery Adjacent listeners, golfing buddies of the Pretenders and readers of this newsletter, I had raised £1,015 for SSAFA, the third highest individual total across the entire event. Thank you.

Anyone with arthritis will tell you that humidity makes for aches and pains. I can now confirm that this translates to walking too.

A final word on Debbie. This woman is, in years at least, older than me. Since Covid, she has undergone treatment for not one, but two cancers. The hangover from treatment, means that she felt rotten as we set off - let alone sixteen kilometres later. I don't need to look far for inspiration and role models.

The Trump Show

He's keeping himself busy, isn't he?

Whether it was wise to bomb Iran, and how we came to a place that it was felt necessary is a complicated question, and not one I'm best placed to layout and argue. For good or ill, the President took the decision. I don't question that. I question the bombastic hyperbole of the administration after the bombing.

You don't need to be a rocket scientist to work out that when you throw big bombs at a mountain, you will definitely blow up some rocks. Whether you will destroy anything beneath those rocks, is, at best, a bit of a guess. Knowing what damage you've actually done, will, of course, be a total guess. Then, over years, you will gather intelligence from satellites and human resources and try to turn those guesses into probabilities.

So why does Trump and his lickspittles come out and spout such categorical nonsense?

The American people are not stupid. Why does Trump think that they want to hear him talk nonsense?

The reality is that whether the bombs hit anything or not is irrelevant. The US has signalled to Iran that it does not believe what Iran is telling it and that it is prepared to act to prevent proliferation. American people would understand that. They may love it, hate it or be somewhere in-between, but surely they'd prefer that than the patronising claptrap coming from Hegseth, Rubio, Vance and Trump?

Deliciously, the Trump phone is no longer going to be made in America. I'd be tempted to think it may never actually launch.

Grifters. Not even good ones. Look out for that Vance, though. He's plain evil.

Travel

I'm getting on a plane next week for some work and to visit my Mum. So, I'd expect cold weather and rain if you're in the UK.

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Have a great week.