I had a girlfriend called Alex. She was a vivacious creature who was very much into her gymnastics and I cultivated an interest in this after seeing her various tweets about attending competitions and her posts on Instagram. She was at least ten years younger than me and she had a delightful naivety about her. Although she was far from old, indeed she was very much in her youth, she was approaching the upper age limit for those who could be regarded as competitive in gymnastics. Similar to competitive swimming, the shelf-life of a female gymnast is not long.
Initially, I would drive her all around the country to the various competitions which she took part in. She was very good and often found herself amongst the medals. The rigorous routines began to have an effect on her body and on return to home it was often necessary for her to apply ice packs to reduce the swelling she suffered about her knees and ankles. Once I tired of her bubbly persona and incessant chatter about straddle press handstands,pike press to handstand from front stand and the Arabian doubles, I would prior to her competition remove any ice we had in the house. On return she would express her dismay at the lack of ice. I would volunteer to go and find some for her from the supermarket as she rested. I would go to the pub instead or go and visit Mary who was attracting my attentions around this time.
I would return empty-handed resulting in Alex not recovering quick enough and thereafter having to pull out of competitions. She would swear that she had purchase some ice only the day before but I would point out that she could not have done since we had none. That was a fact and with a confused look she would eventually accept the force of what I was saying. Unfortunately for her, she insisted on attending a competition when not fully recovered and ended up badly injuring her right knee. Her convalescence was such that she felt her confidence dry up and she was most reluctant to rejoin the competition. This pleased me as it meant my weekends were no longer being interrupted and as she was on crutches for a time it meant I was free to come and go and there was little she could do about it, being largely housebound. In order to show some semblance of caring for her, I would cook the evening meal for her on condition she fixed the drinks for us both. It was then I decided I would always drink Absolut vodka. On the rocks.