For the last few months I've had something of a routine in going to work. For the final part of my journey to the office I have been getting off the bus and walking about a mile which, if the weather is dry and there's not a hurricane force wind that Scotland is prone to, is quite pleasant and can psyche me up for the stresses of the day ahead. However, last week my daughter Michaela started a job in the office where I work - in the floor below, thankfully - which has meant she has been giving me a lift to work in her Forumla 1 vehicle (given the speed she drives she surely thinks she's competing against Sebastian Vettel and co.) Which has meant my little routine has ceased.
Being on leave this week I thought I would try and rectify this by purchasing an exercise bike for use in the house. The internet can be a wonderful thing and I checked out the on-line reviews before purchasing. Almost every reviewer said it was a good bike for its price although a common theme was the difficulty in putting it together. Disregard the instructions said one reviewer.
The bike arrived today - tightly packed in a box with polystyrene that took several minutes to dislodge. The assembly instructions may well have been written in Chinese. Guide the lower part of the INNER cable of the tension control knob into the formed metal loop of the INNER cable of the tension cable. You get the picture. There were several references to a tension control knob. How I could have done with one of them for my aching, ageing body as I grappled with the machine.
The accompanying diagrams may well have been instructions to build a nuclear weapon - numbers here, letters there, numerous arrows pointing to every corner of the page. In the end I took the advice of the on-line reviewer and threw the assembly instructions away. Two hours later the bike has been assembled. But now I'm in a foul mood and have no inclination to set near the damned contraption.
Perhaps I should take up yoga instead...