You’re fat, and the 7-minute workout

You're fat?

I paid a visit to the Ethical Co-op warehouse the other day, and Thembi, one of the warehouse staff who’s been there from the very early days, greeted me with a loud “You’re fat!” as I walked in.

I was a little taken aback and didn’t have an immediate response, so she carried on “Yes! You were so skinny when you used to come to the warehouse, and now you’re fat. That’s good, you were too skinny. No stress anymore!”

I know she means “fat” as a compliment, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about her kind words.

Which brings me to the Seven-minute workout. This was a routine developed in 2013 by researchers in Orlando, using the latest research to design the best possible exercise routine, aimed in particular at office workers who don’t do enough exercise in general.

High-intensity interval training is today recognised as providing the most efficient returns for your time. Essentially, bursts of mayhem with brief rest periods between.

It’s claimed that just a few minutes of training at close to maximum capacity (that’s the high-intensity part) can produce molecular changes within muscles similar to those of several hours of running or bicycle riding.

The seven minute workout claims to work out all major muscle groups and give a combination of metabolic and resistance work. The exercises can all be performed from home, without any need for special equipment.

I was sold. Actually, it was the seven-minutes that did it. Egoscue involves long periods of lying in one position, and an abridged routine can easily be 30 minutes. Tai chi? Well, it’s wonderfully beneficial, but it doesn’t exactly build Hulk Hogan arm muscles (if it does, you’re doing it all wrong).

The extremely erratic exercises I would do before involved much pausing to admire the dust mites on the floor between repetitions, so perhaps not as intense as required.

A walk in the forest or on the mountains? Great, but, as well-served as Cape Town is, it takes me more than seven minutes just to get there, and a bit longer to get to the top (unless I’m ‘walking’ with Craig, in which case seven minutes to the top is about right).

So, how does it work?

Each exercise is done for 30 seconds, as intensely as possible, followed by a ten-second rest. The exercises are:

  • Jumping jacks
  • Wall sit
  • Push-up
  • Abdominal crunch
  • Step-up onto chair
  • Squat
  • Triceps dip on chair
  • Plank
  • High knees/running in place
  • Lunge
  • Push-up and rotation
  • Side plank

You can download an app on your phone to help keep track of the order and timings, and go to the New York Times article to read more.

So, how has the routine been for me? Well, I’m convinced that what Thembi saw as “fat” is simply the buildup of lean muscle around my stomach, so I’d say it’s working out quite well. Though I have upped the frequency and occasionally doubled up on abdominal crunches. Just in case.

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Image from Wikimedia Commons.



Leaving the Ethical Co-op

Ethical veggies
Way back in April, a lifetime ago that seems like yesterday, I stepped down from the Ethical Co-op, which I’d been involved with from the very beginning in 2005.

There were about 10 founders, mostly drawn from two communities. Permacore, the Permaculture Foundation of South Africa, which is no longer running, and the Community Exchange System, a system designed to do away with the need for banks and central currency, which still is.

The vision was to source and support ethical produce. Organic food was hard to come by, and much of it organic in name only. Many of us used to visit the same places to get the best food, so pooling our efforts and getting them to bring it to us made sense.

The founding members all paid for their first orders, about R200 on average, and so, with a massive startup capital of R2000, it all began. To date, except for a loan from myself to purchase a vehicle, that was the only financial investment it ever had.

Yet, somehow, it’s still going 9 years later. Many other businesses, sometimes with huge financial investment and far greater financial resources, have splashed, crashed and burned.

What was lacking in money was made up for in time, however, with many people making hefty contributions.

From the beginning, and over most of its existence, there was a great team of people involved, feeding off each other’s energy. The skillset was diverse – I had an IT background and built the systems it runs on, and everybody dived in where they could.

Over time, the original members left. Some were no longer able to commit so much time for so little money or better and more interesting opportunities came along. Until, eventually, of the original members, it was just me left. It became a drain on my energy, most of my involvement was spent doing things I don’t enjoy: HR, finances, driving trucks (ok, that one is quite fun, but not so much unexpectedly at 7am after 4 hours sleep), packing boxes, customer service. I think over the years I’ve performed every role there was to perform.

The drain on my time meant I was missing other opportunities, saying no to friend’s invitations, missing my son Dorje’s school activities. And finally, when my mother was dying, it became something I resented, not allowing me the energy or time to share the process with her as I would have liked.

With my father ill at the beginning of this year, I’d finally had enough, and it was time to move on. There was only one viable person to hand it over to at the time, which was Anique, Dorje’s mom, who was involved at the time. At first she wasn’t keen to continue without me, so out went the closure letters to suppliers and customers.

But after an outpouring of support (people usually only say what things mean when it’s too late), she decided to continue it, and I was happy that something I’d put so much love and sweat into would be continuing.

Leaving was hard. I’d put so much energy into it, and the vision many of us had for it, although never actualised, always felt just around the corner.

But I was happy to leave, and have been enjoying a resurgence in energy and the time to explore new things.

When the site launched, in September 2005 if I remember (so this month is its 9th birthday), the code I wrote was already a jumbled mush of spaghetti, thanks to scope creep of the sort comparable to driving to the shops for milk turning into a 3-week trip across Namibia. Eventually it turned into what’s there today, with an automated backend that allows a tiny team to keep things running.

Still today, all the products are listed on one page, a legacy of its original conception as a ‘box scheme’, where a customer would choose from 15 or so items to put in a box. Now there are hundreds of items. Some people hate the long page, but I love it as a customer. It makes searching for items instantaneous, and placing an order very quick.

There were lots of things to enjoy. Being the kind of business it was, designed to do good rather than make its shareholders or founders rich, it attracted lots of inspiring people, who worked for very little reward. Inspiring is not a word I use loosely – I really was inspired and energised by the people I worked with.

There were some tough times too. As with any group of people, there were personal conflicts, differences of opinion. An early test was asking a key founding member to leave. The other members all agreed that this was needed, and it fell to me to tell the person who’d brought me into the project, and was responsible for so much of the early energy, to leave. The person wasn’t happy, and spread all sorts of rumours afterwards, but it was the right thing to do, and the rest of us continued with a new lightness and purpose.

I lost count of the number of times it was called the ‘unethical’ co-op, often for the most trivial of reasons (“My carrots had their tops chopped off this week! I like to use them, and now you’ve chopped them off! How can you call yourselves ethical, you should be called unethical!)

But the accusation never hit home, as the the name always reflected an intention that we did our best to live up to. It saddens me to see something that should be the norm, healthy, organic food, where animals roam free and are well-treated, becoming a marketing slogan, an excuse to price gouge, a race to meet the lowest standard that meets the term. Supermarkets offering free range and organic produce that meets the letter (and sometimes not even that), but is far from the spirit of the term. Food at markets that claims or is assumed to be organic, beautifully displayed, but that I know is simply the conventional food being resold at an expensive price. The prevalence of pesticide-laden farms, with workers facing higher rates of asthma and other health conditions, all while the pesticide fumes they live in are claimed to be ‘safe’.

I still buy almost all my food from the Ethical Co-op. It’s clear where the food is grown, I still know many of the farms where the food is grown, and they’re of a scale that can support small producers, a dire need in a country with so many small suppliers all at the mercy of giant chains squeezing them for every cent.

It was a fun eight and a half years that I’m already looking at through rose-tinted glasses. Thanks to everyone who was part of the journey. Good luck to Anique and all the remaining staff, I hope you can make a thriving success of it.



Modern American Cryptographic Poetry

Having a little bit more free time these days, and suffering from an extreme compulsion to spend all this free time, I signed up for two Coursera courses at the same time. Both of them are lots of fun, but both are also a little more time-consuming than the ones I’ve done before, so I’ll probably be dropping one.

Which one to stick with, Modern American Poetry or Cryptography?

Although they’re both fun, it’s no contest. Modern American Poetry includes some of my favourite poets (Allen Ginsberg and Walt Whitman), is introducing me to some new and related poets I’d never read before, and is a fantastic format. It’s fast paced, with lots of poems each week, and, unlike other courses featuring a video lecture by a professor, contains video discussions, a tut group featuring the course co-ordinator and a number of his students.

Even more unusually, for the first time I’m finding the Coursera forums highly stimulating. Overall, the forums shed far more light on the poems than the interesting videos, with so many interesting perspectives.

It’s the most fun I’ve had in ages.

It’s probably too late to sign up for this one, but I highly recommend registering for the next one.

And even if poetry is not your thing, how can you resist James Earl Jones (Darth Vader’s voice) reading from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself.

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Image from Wikimedia Commons.



The Song of The Golden Dragon – Estas Tonne

I have a large collection of music that would probably take me many months to listen to from start to finish, but I find myself listening to it less and less, and discovering so much amazing new music.

Today’s find, now on repeat, is the beautifully named Song of the Golden Dragon, by Estas Tonne.



A comparison of WhatsApp, Facebook Messenger and Telegram permissions on Android

Recently I’ve seen quite a few postings of the article The Insidiousness of Facebook Messenger’s Mobile App Terms of Service , claiming you should remove your Facebook Messenger because of the control the app has over your Android device. Many have suggested Telegram instead, which I’ve been using a while. “Using”, I should add, in the same sense I would use a carrier pigeon. It’s nice to have, but there aren’t many others to share the fun with.

So how bad is the Facebook app compared to others? Here’s a comparison between the permissions demanded by Facebook Messenger, Telegram and Whatsapp on Android:

Permission Facebook Messenger Telegram WhatsApp
Retrieve running apps No No Yes
Find accounts on the device Yes Yes Yes
Find accounts on the device No Yes Yes
Read your own contact card Yes Yes Yes
Read your own contact card Yes Yes Yes
Read contacts Yes Yes Yes
Modify your contacts No Yes Yes
Approximate location (network-based) Yes Yes Yes
Precise location (GPS and network-based) Yes Yes Yes
Edit your text messages Yes No No
Receive text messages (SMS) Yes Yes Yes
Read your text messages Yes No No
Send SMS messages Yes No Yes
Receive text messages (MMS) Yes No No
Directly call phone numbers Yes No Yes
Read call log Yes No No
Test access to protected storage Yes Yes Yes
Modify or delete contents of your USB storage Yes Yes Yes
Take pictures and videos Yes Yes Yes
Record audio Yes Yes Yes
View wifi connections Yes Yes Yes
Read phone status and identity Yes Yes Yes
Read sync statistics No No Yes
Receive data from internet Yes Yes Yes
Download files without notification Yes No No
Run at startup Yes Yes Yes
Prevent device from sleeping Yes Yes Yes
View network connections Yes Yes Yes
Install shortcuts Yes No Yes
Change your audio settings Yes No Yes
Read Google service configuration Yes Yes Yes
Draw over other apps Yes Yes No
Full network access Yes Yes Yes
Read sync settings Yes Yes Yes
Read sync statistics No No Yes
Control vibration Yes Yes Yes
Change network connectivity Yes No No
Toggle sync on and off No No Yes
Use accounts on the device No No Yes
Modify system settings No No Yes
Uninstall shortcuts No No Yes

The permissions that have got most people worried, with visions of their phone starting to video them and record their conversations, “Take pictures and videos” and “Record audio”, are shared by all the apps. In Android’s permission system, they’re required to function. So if you want to use the chat functionality, you have to give the app these permissions. If the software is proprietary (Facebook and Whatsapp), you’ll need trust the company behind the app (Facebook owns Whatsapp as well). Telegram is open source, and therefore anyone can (and does) check the code. If you’re worried about security, you should be as concerned about what happens to your messages and data in transit, and here the best option I know of right now is Telegram, which is designed with a focus on privacy.

Now if only more people would use it…



“As I went out one morning”, better known as “OOH AH”

Many years ago, it wouldn’t have been uncommon to find me screeching in my bedroom. If you could stand the racket, you may have made out some of the words. “Ayee yeaaah ah, OOH AH”.

It’s not really surprising that, given what I remembered, even in the age of Google, I couldn’t track down the band responsible for all those primal grunts.

Until recently that is. Thanks to Brian Currin’s Top 40 Rock Legends, I rediscovered Tribe after Tribe. Shockingly, they didn’t even have an English Wikipedia article. Happily this is now rectified (a German version of the article did already exist). The song is actually a cover of a Bob Dylan song, but for me, Tribe after Tribe’s will always be the original.

Enough words, here’s the music:



June 2014 African Wikipedia and Wiktionary update


This weekend sees the first Wiki Indaba, a gathering of African Wikimedians. Since my last look at the state of African language Wikimedia projects was in May 2013, and my last look at Wiktionary (the dictionary project, not as widely-known as its more popular sister, Wikipedia) was way back in 2011, it’s time for an update.

African Language Wiktionaries

Language 3/8/2009 30/5/2010 15/5/2011 17/6/2014
Malagasy 142 4,253 - 3,191,393
Afrikaans 14,128 14,669 14,731 15,792
Swahili 12,956 13,000 13,027 13,885
Wolof 2,675 2,689 2,693 2,310
Sotho 1,387 1,389 1,398 1,343
Zulu 127 131 510 586
Rwandi 306 306 306 366
Swati 31 371 377 290
Oromo 186 218 264 269
Amharic 311 319 377 204
Tsonga 358 359 363 92

The startling progress of Malagasy is most notable, and here it seems bot activity is primarily responsible. Malagasy is one of the more interesting languages linguistically, so it’s not surprising it’s attracting interest. Afrikaans and Swahili also showed some activity in the last year, while other languages are static, with many showing a reduction in the number of articles due to cleanups.

What about the Wikipedias?

African Language Wikipedias

Language 11/2/2011 13/4/2012 9/5/2013 17/6/2014
Malagasy 3,806 36,767 45,361 47,144
Afrikaans 17,002 22,115 26,752 31,756
Yoruba 12,174 29,894 30,585 30,910
Swahili 21,244 23,481 25,265 26,349
Amharic 6,738 11,572 12,360 15,968
Egyptian Arabic   8,433 10,379 12,440
Somali 1,639 2,354 2,757 3,646
Lingala 1,394 1,816 2,025 2,077
Shona     1,421 2,077
Kabyle     1,503 1,876
Kinyarwanda   1,501 1,817 1,832
Wolof 1,116 1,814 1,161 1,201

Afrikaans continues to show the most consistent growth and the healthiest community. Yoruba overtook Afrikaans thanks mostly to a burst of bot activity, but Afrikaans has now once again overtaken it. Malagasy, again thanks to bot activity, is well ahead, but the consistent growth in Afrikaans means it is closing the gap, and has higher quality articles.

Of the other African languages, Amharic, Egyptian Amharic, Somali and Shona are all showing reasonable activity, so the signs are good.

Focusing on South Africa specifically:

South African Language Wikipedias

Language 19/11/2011 13/4/2012 9/5/2013 17/6/2014
Afrikaans 20,042 22,115 26,754 31,756
Northern Sotho 557 566 685 691
Zulu 256 483 579 630
Tswana 240 490 495 510
Swati 359 361 364 400
Xhosa 125 136 148 333
Tsonga 192 193 240 303
Venda 193 190 204 209
Sotho 132 145 188 197

I’ve discussed the success of the Afrikaans Wikipedia above, and the other language showing good progress has been Xhosa, which survived the proposal to close it in 2013. Wikimedia ZA announced in their April newsletter that they were diverting resources away from Xhosa, after numerous failed attempts to activate the language.

However, in March, the Xhosa Wikipedia started to show signs of life. For a small Wikipedia, all it takes is one or two active editors, and Xhosa has found one, so the article count, as well as the article quality, has jumped noticeably. Xhosa has leapt from last place (excluding Ndebele, which is the only South Africa official language not to have its own Wikipedia) to sixth, above Tsonga, Venda and Sotho.

The other Wikipedias are still only showing flickering signs of interest, and have only a small number of new articles.

Related articles



In memory of my father

It was my father’s memorial yesterday afternoon, and, like my mother’s memorial nine months ago, it was a good day, meeting and seeing again some of his old friends.

Here’s a written adaptation based on what I said.

The memorial was held at my cousin John and Lindsay’s house. My early family Christmases were at my grandparents house in Meerlust, and then for a long time at my parent’s house in Rust en Vrede. But, for the last few years they’ve been held at John and Lindsay’s house. My dad used to enjoy coming and meeting family there – it was important to him, and so it was a fitting place for his memorial.

It also wasn’t far to get him home if he’d had one too many novelty whiskies, absinthe, or whatever else was being introduced at the time.

He was an extremely thorough and organised person. Everything was in its place, and he didn’t like things not going according to plan. But in life things rarely went his way. When he used to make a speech at birthdays or Christmases, for instance, when someone interrupted (looking at Jenni here), or laughed at the wrong time, or didn’t laugh at the right time, he used to get quite thrown,

In his organised way as he prepared for his death, he’d written out his final wishes, and the details of his will all well in advance. So, it’s a bit of a cosmic joke that all of these documents were stolen from a family members house last week.

Although most of his wishes were known, there is probably something missing, and if he’s grown any more hair in his current form, he’s probably tearing it in frustration at us getting it wrong right now.

But I’m sure he’ll forgive us, eventually.

As a child, I was never close to my dad. I used to avoid him, even from quite a young age. Our encounters often ended with me in tears, and I remember many a morning waiting for him to finish breakfast and leave so that I wouldn’t have to sit with him. The Gilfillans are almost as stubborn as the Dawe’s (my mom’s maiden name), and there were times when we both wanted the same thing, but he’d refuse to offer, or I’d refuse to ask, and so we both stubbornly didn’t get what we wanted.

Jenni's 21st

But as an adult, our relationship was much better, and I learnt to understand and accept him. I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to heal the relationship, and get to understand him more deeply.

He had a difficult home life, growing up in the depression with very little, and was educated in boarding school, which in those days could be extremely rough, and far from his family.

But there was a lot I didn’t know about him. He was a very private person, not tending to discuss problems with others. One of the last times I saw him walking was when I visited him in the cottage at Helen Keller. He’d just had a fall, but when I came to the door, he came to open it on his walking stick, and I saw he was walking gingerly. But only when he lay down as I left did I realise how much pain he was in, which he’d tried to shield from me.

His mom and my mom didn’t get on at all, and it must have been very difficult for him with the two most important women in his life having such an unhealthy relationship. But I never saw him dump that onto others – he tried to carry it all himself. Everything that he held would sometimes come out in grumpiness, or complaints about other things, but the main things were always held inside.

He was greatly affected by the death of his sister, who by all accounts committed suicide. She was 34, two years younger than him, and again, he never talked about her, and even later when I asked some questions, he was very cagey. But, when I looked through some of the boxes he kept with him, right to the end, much of it was devoted to her, many many pictures, fragments of her diary.

My mother sometimes used to say that I should try understand him and realise that he never had a real family life, never knew what it was like. So I think the death of his sister in that context must have been quite devastating.

His profession was an artisan, fixing machines, and he worked for many years for Moirs and Kohler Packaging. Even at home he was continually building things. He was still driving at age 86, and after one too many dings with his car in the garage, he built a device that would register when the car got too close to the wall, and a big red stop would light up to warn him.

If you visited him at his Pinelands house you probably remember the alarm chimes that would sound when the gate opened. And he tinkered with all sorts of devices – his very first computer was a ZX-81 which didn’t have sound or a proper keyboard, and he built a proper touch-typing keyboard and added sound to the ZX-81, which I’d never heard of being done before. Even the computers he had at the end came with a mix of switches and devices that he’d built himself.

Anytime anyone had a mechanical problem they’d bring the device to my dad for fixing, and I remember him regretting before one of his moves, near the end, that he hadn’t been able to fix something of Eddie’s in time.

He left Dorje with a huge chest of tools and things that I hope Dorje learns to use better than I ever did.

He used to love the lotto, and particular trying to work out a system. He recorded every result, and calculated statistics in an attempt to see which numbers would be more likely to come up in future. He never aimed for the first prize though – his goal was always to win back just a little more than he spent, rather than the millions at the top. Before that it was horseracing. I remember him telling me he had worked out a system, and tested it for a long period by placing fake bets, and seeing what his winnings would be based on the results. Apparently the system was a success. So he tried it in practice, with real bets, and came back with some winnings the first week.

He lost the second week, and never won again. His systems always seemed to work better in theory than in practise.

His great love though was music. He met my mom in a band – Max Adler’s accordion band – and right until the end he was still playing. At Helen Keller he got involved in a music group, with him supplying music from his encyclopaedic collection, and playing his keyboard. I’m grateful that it was only a very short time that he wasn’t able to play any more. Dorje now has the keyboard, so I’m hoping that’s another skill that, even though it’s skipped me, will be passed on to the next generation.

When my mom became bedridden, he really surprised me by the way he looked after her, showing a side of him I hadn’t seen before. He washed her and cared for her in an unexpectedly intimate way.

He missed my mom terribly when she died. It did give him the chance to try some new things though, such as buying presents. All my life, every present I’ve received labelled “Love Mom and Dad” was from my mom, and my dad usually didn’t have a clue what it was.

So getting a present for Dorje that reflected who he was, was a novelty and an enjoyable experience for him.

The time alone at their old house wasn’t easy for him. His whole life he’d felt responsible for others, and when my mom became ill, there were lots of visitors and lots to do. After she died, there was the organisation of the funeral and other arrangements to keep him busy, but after that, the visits became less frequent and he was alone in the house he’d shared with my mom for so long. He really appreciated the support he got in that time. There were lots of supportive people, but he was particularly grateful for the support he got from Tony and from Saskia from St Lukes, who both helped in their different ways.

When the time came to move out of his house, his first thought, falling back upon his depression upbringing with a focus on saving money, was to move to a nice place out in the Karoo somewhere. But I managed to convince him that I would never come and visit him there, and nor would anybody else, so we finally settled on his real first choice, Helen Keller.

He was only there for two months, but for that brief time he was able to relax and enjoy himself without all of the worries he’d carried for so long.

Later today I’ve arranged a tea at Helen Keller with some of the residents who knew him. When Helen Keller let me know how many people would be coming, I expected 4 or 5 but there’s apparently 60 people coming, so it seems like he got around and enjoyed his time there even more than I realised.

It took me a long time to call him dad, but, one more time, farewell dad. Thanks for being who you were, and for all the gifts you shared. Rest in Peace.



Projection on projection

I’m doing a five-year insight meditation course, and the most recent topic for our meditation was projection.

Projection is, essentially, the act of attributing the traits that we deny in ourselves onto others. These can be negative, such as thinking someone else is aggressive, unfriendly, disorganised, or positive, such as thinking that someone else is confident, kind, loving, etc.

Projection is extremely common. We all do it all the time. Whenever there is blame, there is invariably projection occurring. Observing this as it happens takes away its power, and is one of the most liberating insights for people to experience. It’s hard to remain angry with someone else for being aggressive, for example, when you see the aggression coming from yourself!

For a while now, I’ve been doing a shadow exercise which fits nicely with projection and I’ve found very useful.

Do this exercise regularly, picking the person you’re most unhappy with, or do it whenever you find yourself really upset with someone else.

  • First, imagine yourself telling a friend about what the person has done. Experience the feelings as fully as you can, describing them all in as much detail as you can.
  • Next, imagine yourself talking to the person. They’re sitting in the chair while you describe what they are doing to you and how it has made you feel. Let them respond, so that the conversation flows both ways.
  • Finally, describe the situation from the perspective of the other person. Become the person. How do you feel about what has happened, why are you acting and responding in the way you are? End it by affirming that you are this person.

In my own experience over time, I’ve found that the first part of the exercise becomes shorter and shorter, and that I go quickly to the second and third parts of the exercise. In everyday life, it becomes more difficult to talk or think badly about anyone else.

At the moment I’m finding that the situation I react most to is when I see others projecting onto a third person. So their projection allows me the space to project all sorts of unhelpful things onto the situation – my superiority at seeing what’s happening, and so on.

Projection can also happen at a larger scale. Groups, nations and beyond can also be blind to their own attributes. A quick glance at any of the news websites and the comments sections will tell you we have lots of shadow work to do!

Hearing others talk of their own experiences of projection has been really interesting. Many of them dealt with relationships, a wonderful mirror to see these things. An interesting one shared by a number of males revolved around a female partner having had greater sexual experience, having done wilder things, how this bothered them, indicating projection, and the feeling at the root of this, for example shame.

This kind of practise is easily misunderstood to mean passivity, doing nothing but blaming oneself. It’s not at all the same.

If a boulder is hurtling towards you, don’t stand there wondering how you caused the problem. Get out of the way! If someone in your life attacks you with a knife, get out of the way!

But there’s a different quality when projection onto a person is involved.

Next time you’re unhappy with someone, try the exercise above – you may be surprised what you find.



Cushions, crutches and an office chair

I was on my way back from voting, excited about the massive contribution I had made while keeping an eye out for stompies to pick up. There were cars parked in the road, so I hopped onto the low wall at the side of the road, perhaps half a metre high. At the end of the wall, I hopped off.

Landing in a crack on the road and twisting my ankle.

I managed to limp home, although it was extremely painful. The next time I tried to get up I realised I wouldn’t be walking for a while.

The first day involved an unplanned fast, as moving anywhere, much less all 10 metres to the kitchen, involved putting cushions on the floor, resting my ankle gingerly on the cushions as I lay on my back, and then sliding slowly around the house. Regularly readjusting the cushions while trying not to move my ankle. All while wishing I had nicked some of my dad’s morphine. Or some of Mr Morrison’s vegetable pills. Mr Morrion's vegetable pillsCarrying anything meant putting it arms length in front of me, sliding forwards until it was arms length behind me, and then putting it arms length in front of me again. Unsurprisingly the green tea wasn’t flowing quite as freely. I don’t really want to remember what going to the toilet was like…

By the next day the pain had subsided enough for me to move by hopping. There were once again regular tea breaks, followed by me hopping madly with a teapot full of boiling water in one hand, teacup in the other, leaving a trail of spilt water as I went.

Soon, my good ankle and legs was sore from all the hopping, and I was back to crawling again. At least this time I could move on my hands and knees, far speedier than before.

Finally, I realised a wheelchair would come in handy, so the office chair got hauled into action. I could whizz about the house at high speed, one knee resting on the chair, green tea resting on the seat, good leg pushing away. The office chair only got soaked once or twice.

I’ve never been immobile in this way before. It didn’t take long to find a system that worked, with my office chair wheelchair, but mostly it was a lesson in frustration and patience, and it made me think about people who can’t ever move about freely.

I couldn’t walk outside or drive, and simple things I’d taken for granted needed careful planning.

I got some crutches, and my first trip outside since the day it happened involved walking to the doctor on the crutches. It wasn’t a particularly long walk, but after navigating the journey, including subway, the novelty of the crutches had worn off, replaced by sore hands.

Finally, I progressed to an air cast, which I get to wear for six weeks, and which made an immediate difference to my hobbling ability.

It’s a strange thing to have my body give out so suddenly and so dramatically. All sorts of questions went through my mind.

What if this happened while I was alone on the mountains?

What if I didn’t have money for crutches, casts and office chairs?

What if I can never walk again? Not a serious, logical question, but a feeling response that was interesting to observe.

Luckily, I’m well on the way to walking again, but a little humbled, and with a much greater understanding of the reality many people live.