The Hellfire Club

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  “Just past the weir (going up) is Danes’ Field, where the invading Danes once encamped, during their march to Gloucestershire; and a little further still, nestling by a sweet corner of the stream, is what is left of Medmenham Abbey.   The famous Medmenham monks, or “Hell Fire Club,” as they were commonly called, and of whom the notorious Wilkes was a member, were a fraternity whose motto was “Do as you please,” and that invitation still stands over the ruined doorway of the abbey. Many years before this bogus abbey, with its congregation of irreverent jesters, was founded, there stood upon this same spot a monastery of a sterner kind, whose monks were of a somewhat different type to the revellers that were to follow them, five hundred years afterwards.  The Cistercian monks, whose abbey stood there in the thirteenth century, wore no clothes but rough tunics and cowls, and ate no flesh, nor fish, nor eggs. They lay upon straw, and they rose at midnight to mass. They spen...

Stupid Bike

It is those moments of sheer stupidity (perhaps the better word would simply be “thoughtlessness”) that reminds us that we are not gods.

I have been trying to get the upper hand on my “corporalita” (specifically, physical health and fitness) by finding a routine at the gym (it’s been more than 25 years since I’ve made regular appearances, so I’m starting all over again). The other day, I made my appearance with every intention of walking on the treadmill. As they were all taken, I sat on a recumbent bike, to wait until a treadmill was open. Like the treadmill, the bike as much potential for a workout, so I thought I would try something different, so I confronted the bike.

As many already know, the treadmill is programmed to provide the user a number of pre-set options to take one through one workout or another; or, the user may manually program his or her own. I use the “Forest Walk” preset (at present, a 40 minute walk, speed 3.0 at 1.0 unit of incline). The computer panel blinks at me with its video game screen even before I step up. “Walk on me and win a prize!”

The panel on the bike was dead. Blank. No lights and no other signs of life. I checked the rear of the bike—perhaps it was unplugged or something. No cords to be seen.

Perhaps it is battery-powered . . .

I checked the next bike: dead.

The next bike: dead.

No bikes today. Oh well.

I waited for the treadmill.

One soon became available and as I stepped up I expressed within my gratitude for my turn that I would have used the bikes, but there did not seem to be working.

“Sure, they work,” the sweaty guy huffed back. “The user generates the power.”

I decided then and there that the little guy on the bike inside my head must have been taking a water break.
Yeah, I'm going back today.

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