Brenda’s Unfortunate Record Of The Week #1


EDITOR'S NOTE: Right, being the editor of Ransom Note for a week is a lot more work than what I thought it would be. I am enjoying the company, don't get me wrong, but I rarely write about music. And I should write more full stop. So I've had to call in minions. They're coming, and they've all been vouched. Here's Brenda's. A review who may turn into a regular contributor and who knows, may replace Wil one day.

Brenda’s Unfortunate Record Of The Week #1

This track might have come out a year ago but Heroiny’s ‘Ahh-Ohh’ EP has been swirling round my head this week, in that ‘oh-oh, wtf did I do kinda way…’

I run. It keeps me sane and it’s the one part of my day I look forward to. Fresh air and all that. The past few weeks I’ve been more stressed than usual and have hammered my way around the Marshes nearly ever day, wracking up 15kms+ for each turn of the sun. The buttocks firm, abs getting there, the skin tanned and yep feeling good. Then last week something happened. It was a twinge at first, a little pain in my left foot. I got home and was limping. Wednesday’s day of rest stretched into Thursday and by the time Friday rolled round, I had an appointment at the sports physio. It’s not the sort of thing I normally do, but my pal swore by it. She had the same symptoms and all was fixed with one quick crack of the back. 

So there I was in a small room, full of hope with Maria and thick Spanish drawl pulling and prodding said footsie. ‘Yep, it’s just what I thought. You have sever over-prrrronation in both feet but the left is even more prrrronounced (blah blah blah)’. And then the bomb-shell. ‘Therrre’s nothing you can do, some people are just borrrn flat-footed’. Que? Flat foot? It’s one of those terms I automatically tag cunt to the end of. I can’t help it. In another lifetime the catchy ring of ‘Come on you club-foot cunts, get tapping on the dancefloor’ was hammered hard into my noggin. 

So yeah, I am now officially a FLAT FOOTED CUNT. I have since learned (apparently this is common knowledge, apologies) this defect errrrr deformity errrr imper-fucking-fection is so sever it would avoid you getting drafted. Had I been born a boy I never woulda had to do my military service (something my French father was concerned about). 

What does one do? Well, it seems I should be investing in some sort of insole / expensive trainer, running less, stretching more and doing so with all sorts of paraphernalia. I loath having to purchase specialised kit, one of the reasons I’m a fan of running ‘I just put on my trainers and off I go!’. I don’t even own a sports bra. Not like my iron-board build particularly needs one, but still, I’ve been wearing an old Speedo bikini top for the past decade. Every few years I’ll treat myself to a trip up Sports Direct for some bargain buys, but that’s only when whatever I’ve been wearing has near disintegrated. I don’t care about brand or colour. Cheap and functional is the way to go. 

But those days are gone. The past week I’ve been dutifully doing my new exercises. I’ve invested in a (near palatable £10) foam roller and have been resting as much as possible. But come on, there comes a point. I’ve already suffered a string of inactivity induced mini-breakdowns.

This morning, in defiance I strapped on my old (have yet to waddle down orthopaedics & enquire about insoles) trainers & tried going out. I was reduced to sobbing laps of my local park and am still limping. So hands up, I admit defeat. This isn’t gonna heal on it’s own and this afternoon I will reluctantly hand over more of my precious pounds to the specialists. Mehhhhhhh. I suppose in the long run, it’s cheaper than forking out for the alternative swimming membership. Oh how I love a pun…. 

Contrary Crawl indeed. Heroiny, how did you manage to write the soundtrack to my misfortune a year in advance?

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