I shouldn't have done those shoulder press exercises at the gym last night. My neck and shoulders, always a little vulnerable to stress-related tightness, had just gotten over the worst of the muscle-crunch they suffered on Monday. Too optimistic, I thought it'd be okay to get them working again. I was wrong. I can barely turn my head more than 50 degrees each way, making it hard for me to do the hair-flick thing which I sometimes do (to get hair out of my eyes, not as a flirtation device).
I've been preparing for an ANZAC Day display starting next week, and it's looking pretty good:
- There's a guy with his own museum of militaria, who's coming in on Monday with some rare memorabilia for our display case.
- I've got posters, poppies and reproductions of old ads from 1915, from the RSA.
- I've got a recipe for ANZAC biscuits
- I have a copy of the McCrae poem, of which one verse is always read out during the Dawn Service (its an anti-war poem, but they managed to find the verse which dwells on the heroism of our fallen).
I was one of the many who disapprove of the US's invasion of Iraq. That doesn't mean I can't support the Kiwi lads who've gone over there to help bring back stability to the country though.
Meanwhile, it's school holidays and I'm occasionally having to put up with smart-alecky kids with loud voices. Only fifteen minutes to go before home-time...