Workout Log: 15 Sep 2012: The Train in Spain and Portugal Too

Edward G. Nilges, “Grandchild Flower”, 1 Sep 2012, copyright 2012 by Edward G. Nilges, moral rights asserted

Listen! For the Peacock is a symbol of life eternal.

Walk to Hung Shing Yeh beach with weights and 40 minute swimming and water dancing. Pain from yesterday’s race walk to catch the ferry, can rest now two days. Cool day…28 C.

Listen!

Concerto for Oboe and Violin

It was strange that the train seemed faster,
Than the plane, and it was unfortunate,
She thought, that this was Portugal,
And not Spain, a nice tripartite rhyme.
But it was not fast for her, her yearning,
To return to Lisbon and to him.

Edward G. Nilges January 2012

Era extraño que el tren dibujara tan rápido,
el mismo plano y que fuera bien inusitado.
Ella quiso pensar,que volaba a Portugal
y no a España,en un verso acaso inopinado.
Pero no era nada veloz,el tiempo y el anhelo
de volver a Lisboa,ya para siempre;ya con él.

Translation of Nilges poem by Mr. Paradoxicus

Fleet Enema

I have to execute health procedures that would of old be executed upon me by a wife or mistress but modern women do not choose as much to be nursemaids, and there it is. In other cases, such as that of the aging Frederick II The Great, King of Prussia, these procedures were executed by invisible yet necessary manservants.

For Wednesday’s surgery I have to self-administer an Enema. Right, you swine, this will read well in the Morning Post although I shall of course withhold details beyond the fact that the mission was accomplished. There are limits.

The enema kit is provided at low cost by our somewhat socialized medicine, a socialized system that sagaciously saves on costs by having us execute procedures such as this, and also the drinking of draughts of salts followed by a quick march to the loo prior to Endoscopy.

The name is Victorian, British: the Fleet Enema. I can well imagine this in old-fashioned packaging circa 1880, with the portrait perhaps of Horatio Nelson and the encouraging Maxim, England Expects Every Man to Do His Duty. And, running ’round the box, a row of running British sailors, obviously heading for the Loo.

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