Progress at last. After ten weeks of fervent boxing training, we had a breakthrough yesterday.
“Block, uppercut, hook,” said Bruce, “Block, block, one, two.” he added, going on to say, “You’re ready for a bar brawl now.”
I took heart in this pronouncement. He didn’t say what state my face would emerge from such a ruckus though, or whether I’d be on winning team or not. Although in war, there are no winners. Except the companies who sell bar-furniture and replace windows. Maybe that’s what he meant – I should train to be a glazier.