My second childhood is turning out to be a lot harder than my first

Some of you (Facebook friends, anyway, since it was pre-blog) might recall that I got a bike last year. Yes, I did. I got a bike and started riding it. I was thrilled that I could ride it, since my previous biking experience had been almost forty years ago. By ‘could’, I mean I am able to keep the bike going in a forward direction without falling over.

But it’s hard! I remember pedaling all over town, easy-breezy, light as thistledown – it was like flying. Now I can bike for a few minutes on the flattest surface I can find, and then I’m wiped out. Still, at least I can do it, and I suppose it will get easier with practice.

So last week, in another chapter of regaining childhood skills – I got a hula hoop. (Oh, I know, we’re supposed to call them just ‘hoops’ or ‘exercise hoops’ these days, but for those of us who were there at the dawn of the first craze, they’ll always be hula hoops to us.) And – at least so far – I can’t do it! I’ve been trying, and I’ll keep trying. I’m getting a video from Netflix, and I watch the little tutorials on You Tube. Butbutbut – I remember this as easy!

I suppose Operation Cartwheel ought to be shelved for the foreseeable future, don’t you think?

(Hey, wasn’t I supposed to be writing a book? wanders off muttering…)