If there are not quite as many of those small rotund Welsh canteen manageresses as there used to be, in and around the vicinity of your workplace, then I think we all know who to blame for that, mentioning no penguins by name, of course.
Of course, back in the day, or at least the day after the day, there were small rotund welsh canteen manageresses as far as the eye could see and the chin could ponder, especially if one was to adopt a semi-professional pondering stance, say down on the canal towpath. Obviously, this was back before anyone had to apply for a pondering licence and wear the official pondering safety gear and helmet.
There are those, it must be said, that say the use of pondering safety gear has taken all the pleasure and, yes, the danger out of full-on extreme pondering. Others blame the rise of the blogosphere and the ability to comment on MSN pieces on t’internet for robbing applied pondering, especially on canal towpaths and other such open-air settings, of some of its force and purpose. After all, as we all know, there is nothing quite so invigorating to mind and body as a quick outdoor ponder on those sunny, yet still bracing, chilly spring mornings. It is so splendid to be out where the birds sing, or at least cough discreetly, and the wildlife goes about its delightful daily business of trying to kill and eat each other in the bushes and hedgerows.
Still, though, whatever the reason you can’t help feeling a bit of a dick in that ludicrously extravagant and gaudily coloured safety helmet, no matter what the purported health and safety benefits.
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