Deep

Deep. That's what the dock was. It may as well have been the Grand Canyon. 10 minutes previously, with a bit of spare time, I had decided to wander round by the Imperial War Museum. There was a 'boot camp' type exercise class going on, led by an obviously ex-army guy. Squat thrusts, shuttle runs with small sandbags, press ups; you get the idea. Young people and people my age, some fit, some obviously not. A black kid was sitting, waiting on his mum and amusing himself within his head.

It was time for me to head over to Dock 19 for my swim. It was a damp grey day but that's hardly important when immersed in a deep dock in the Manchester Ship Canal complex. Shit....the barrier for the bridge is down. It must have just closed. I headed up to the next one, opposite Media City and the BBC. Two guys with yellow jackets were guarding it. "Sorry mate, the dredger needs to pass through. Bridge will be open in a few". A few minutes passed and the dredger was showing no signs of stopping dredging at the other end of the dock.

I wandered back down to the other bridge but it was now raised high in the air. The dredger was still ploughing up and down. I surveyed the scene. The only way round was a long walk by Old Trafford which would take around 30mins. I marched down to the previous bridge which had now swung round. "No sign yet" the guy said cheerfully. I was less cheerful now as I had been stuck for nearing 30mins. I was briefly rude and then apologised as it wasn't the guy's fault. "Dunno what's going on" he said.

I missed swimming. I would have only got 10 minutes in the water. Anger wouldn't get me anywhere, yet I was angry. I dunno at who. I was meeting Andy Chalmers at the dock anyway as he was doing massage there. He was then driving me to Urmston to give me a leg rub more comfortable surroundings. Most surroundings are more comfortable than an 'easy-up' at the side of the dock in full public view.

After sharing a room at the World MTB champs with the team masseur a few years back, I learnt that a good masseur is often more effective than a physiotherapist. That's because they understand how muscles and tendons feel, can knead out knots and 'release' the muscles. Their aim is not to diagnose, but they often spot things that physio's don't and solve minor issues quickly.

Andy was the chef. Pummeled and pulled, twisted, turned and tenderised like a pork chop being made into a schnitzel, and my muscles were the pork. Moan, groan fuuuuuuckiiiiin ellllllllll. It was brilliant sufferation. I felt brand new. Andy then dropped me off in Chorlton as I wanted to do a Unicorn shop. Then it was home and I fell asleep almost instantaneously after such a mauling.

I then popped into town for a bit to get some random photos and a Romanesque slice of pizza with porcini mushrooms from Slice. It was authentic roman pizza....a tad greasy when compared to a Tuscan or Napolese one but very tasty all the same.