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A series of musings from Rob Jones at All Plants North.

Paths of least resistance.

I’m stood with other parents looking through a green wire fence fascinated with watching my youngest at soccer practice. Fascinated by how disconnected with the basic principles he is. Whilst a small mob of kids chase the ball and kick each other in the shins my boy is running around in wide circles shouting like he’s scored the winning goal at a World Cup. If by some fluke he does get near the ball he has no qualms about smashing into his own teams net. Gooooaaaalllll!!

If he is chosen to go in goal he often lies down in it facing away from play – amazingly saving a shot with minimal effort. You have to admire his laid-back approach to defence. Whilst the others are hustled to a group chat, sitting on a football each, my boy is doing handstands. He is a long way off getting the golden boot trophy they award each week. I don’t think he is that bothered. Not sure if I should admit it but I quite like that he is happy doing his own thing, it’s entertaining for me anyway but it’s difficult to avoid the feeling that he is letting the side down. He’s young enough not to really get any serious coach drubbing or even any peer pressure but I wonder how long he can get away with the own goal thing. It crosses my mind that the peer pressure may be directed at me rather than him via other parents, but that’s just my paranoia. I’m an older Dad so I think I can handle it even if it were true. But as a I stand here in my sodden work boots that are falling apart, my dirty jeans and home-made haircut I wonder what happened to my pastel coloured shorts and espadrilles that adorn these younger men watching their kids. Should I be shouting manager-like words of instruction to supplement the coaching banter. Do I need to prepare a half-time pep talk in the style of Al Pacino or Henry V to nudge him back on track. How on earth can he expect to get on in life if he never adapts to being a team player. Well, I don’t care that much. He’s hilarious and that’s good enough for me.

It’s me I really need to sort out. 

A combination of natural laziness (the path of least resistance always had a nice ring to it) sweet tooth and a love of beer has seen my weight go up to the point where I am now trying trousers on and having to shout to the sales assistant for the next size up. This damn skinny-leg look doesn’t help, I can’t get half of them past my knees. 

In photos (the smile is improving by the way) I don’t recognise the aircraft hangar sized body attached to my little head. 

I used to run a bit – my wife describes me more of a shire horse rather than a thoroughbred but I haven’t done anything like that since The Great Lockdown.

I bought a rowing machine which does provide a little exercise moving it around the house but I haven’t used it in anger in the three years I’ve had it.

I remember having a health check when I lived in corporate land and I asked the nurse what she thought was the one thing plaguing society’s health. ‘Butter!’ she shot back like it was made by the devil. So there’s another minefield because butter replacements have had their critics too, if you wait long enough even deep fried Mars bars will be back in.

So the time has come to do so something about it. Every year is another notch on the belt and with the current trajectory I’m going to be doing a Brando before I make 60. Clearly, I can’t rely on moving thousands of plants about and extreme DIY to burn enough calories. There are T shirts in my drawer that are waiting for me to return to my fighting weight and a low mileage rowing machine clogging up the hall.

It may be better in front of the fridge.

Rob Jones

All Plants North
The Farm Shop
Cracoe
North Yorkshire
BD23 6LB

www.allplantsnorth.co.uk

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