Jog On

I felt surprisingly fresh, this morning, after last night's drinking and dancing with Gibbzer and Shelagh. 

The Minx and I caught the train back south sometime after ten and I finally finished reading Bella Mackie's 'Jog On'. I started it on the third of March but God knows I haven't picked it up very often. There's something very saddening about having a book you aren't enjoying; there you are, on the sofa, with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, perfect book reading conditions, and then you realise you don't particularly want to pick it up. 

It's not that she's a bad writer, sentence by sentence. She's whimsical, amusing, and has plenty that's interesting to say about exercise and mental health. The problem, I think, is the complete lack of any forward motion in the book: its like treading water. And there is a story in there, it's just that the chronology is absent. As, presumably, was a decent editor. 

To be honest, I should have put it down weeks ago but I promised one of my daughters that I'd read it and that is the important point here; the book may have been a burden to me but it made a big difference to her. This is what we need to remember about opinions, that no matter how honest and well intentioned they are, they aren't absolute. 

(Which is not to say that all opinions are equally valid. Just look at Twitter.)

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No scales
Finished reading: 'Jog On' by Bella Mackie (see above)