Kung fu fighting

Don't mess with me. I am learning kung fu. The first session was tough going – especially the military-style warm-up – but I don't ache as much as I thought I would, and S says he feels OK, too. Those rogue sessions of yoga must have really done me some good, considering I haven't exercised much since 2003 or thereabouts.

The venue was a church hall. We had to go barefoot and run around lots and lots, kicking and stretching and punching. The lack of footwear took me back to my very early days. I can't recall having such dirty feet! Still, it was worth it. I have learned a couple of things, possibly not very well, but hey, I've only been once. S and I really enjoyed it, masochists that we are.

I have had bags of energy today but now (7.09pm), I am feeling tired. I have rushed around and done lots and planned plenty and so on. I feel almost normal if a little manic and 'bitey', if that makes sense. Perhaps it is just the shock of having some energy again. Kung fu was great for ridding me of my anger at GFG keeping us awake with her hours of DIY post 11.30pm, plus some irritating worky matters. GFG can be an inconsiderate woman, and is old enough to know better. Hmph.

Wish I could kung fu kick the Oval's stupid, slow browser so that it works faster. So effing slow. Round and round the 'loading' thing goes and although I have a username etc, I can't find where to put it in, so am being asked to register again. Except I won't as I can't be arsed to waste an hour sitting here while the bloody page loads. I can't be bothered waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting. Boring. Does anyone know? Where the bloody hell are you meant to log in?????? I hate websites that fail to tell you the most obvious. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr x 10 million. So, no cricket because I can't sodding well buggery well f*cking well log in! Bollocks!

A cricket aside: weird how they are now saying that Bob Woolmer may have been murdered. My friend SS interviewed him in St Lucia last year (SS does some sports journalism and got to make a dream trip out there). He said Bob was a very amiable chap. You could hear the waves in the background on SS's tape. Horrible stuff though, this recent development. I hope it's untrue.

My forthcoming interview at the agency was cancelled by simpering Amanda who called to say she didn't have time to meet me as some other people were away and she had to go to an important meeting and she had to cover. She probably has a hair appointment, which incidentally, is what I had today, in preparation for the flipping interview that will now be sometime in April. Grrrr. Well, bugger you, Amanda. Anyway, at least I have three rather good references ready to distribute now – my referees came up with trumps within 24 hours, which is fantastic in my book.

So, my hair now looks shaped, shiny and layered, and I can now permanently dispense with Louise (who used to manage to brush my face with her metal pronged hairbrush). I will now use the services of my new male discovery at the same salon, a 49-year-old heterosexual grandfather, who can actually cut hair without skinning your cheeks. He got a bit emotional when he told me about the poor treatment his late father had had in hospital and I of course, got on to my hobby horse and rode around on my opinions, fuming for the poor man and his family. Louise was on holiday this week. I'm pleased. She does all that tedious, mind-numbing, knuckle-crackling where do you go for holidays/ what do you do/ you going anywhere nice tonight/ where do you live stuff that makes you want to run to the sink with a plugged-in hairdryer and the person in question – Louise – while wearing an insulated rubber suit, of course.

Ah, I feel much better for getting that all out. Thanks for listening.