Mysteries of the Deep

First it was the size of the bird poops on my car that hacked me off. Now it’s the size of the insects that feed on my legs.

Just like Carl Lewis didn’t show up for our 10k showdown, the word must have got out about me entering the sparring arena – no-one showed. A little disappointed, I joined the regular boxing class. I got to do some defense work with one girl – about five feet tall, but weighing far more than

I haven’t bought myself a Porsche, not even one of those tricksie little twin-turbo nutcase ones. I am not having a mid-life crisis. That was so five years ago. I am however taking more risks. I looked in the mirror, and the words of Kenny Rogers sprang to mind, as they often do. I could