It was Hapkido grading on Sunday and, apart from me failing to break a board with a snap punch and resorting to a thrusting punch then kicking one of my friends in the face during a sparring session, all went pretty well. In fact after catching a flu bug and smashing my collar bone pretty badly in the past two weeks I was just delighted to get through it. Hell I’m even quietly confident I might have passed…
My Other Woman was also grading and it was the first time I’d seen her grade in about a year – and suddenly she was no longer my pool and drinking buddy but had metamorphosised into this no-nonsense, hard-arse martial artist with strong stances and snapping kicks and punches. Scary…
In the pub afterwards she also regaled me with the latest instalment of her father’s impulse purchasing habit.
Her dad recently retired and has a history of buying wacky and strange things. For example the Other Woman returned home from work one day to find a full-size pool table in situ at their house. No word of warning. It was just there. And it still is…
Anyway his latest buying wheeze was a box of fireworks. The Other Woman thought this was a fab idea for a family night with toffee apples and colourful explosions in the back garden.
Then she read the box and realised he’d actually bought the sort of fireworks that councils use. For large-scale public displays. Of about 10,000 people. So they weren’t very suitable for letting off in a small garden in Surrey.
My Other Woman was nearly toast. Quite literally…
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