Lot's wife. She looked back didn't she? The sensible way to move forward is to face the front. Yes?
Walking to the car park at Braehead I heard a horn blast and a screech of tyres. I turned round to see what was happening. Like Lot's wife, I looked back. But I kept walking at a brisk pace. Since nothing happened I turned round to face forward. My timing has always been good. Whether it's hitting a dead ball, volleying a high ball, or heading a ball providing I could reach it, the important thing to generate force is to co-ordinate the speed of the projectile and the co-ordinated speed of body and head or foot at the point of impact.
My timing is still good. As I turned round, still walking briskly, the side of my face connected with alarmingly good timing with a large cold, hard, shiny steel lightpost!
##@@**@@##!
My eyebrow, my cheekbone and my jawbone, propelled by my body speed and given added impetus by my head turning to the front, all made a precise and simultaneous connection with the post.
Result? A cut eyebrow that will almost certainly be a black eye in time for sympathetic pastoral comment on Sunday, a bruised cheekbone and a tender jawbone. Oh, and a badly bruised ego
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