Turbulence at the top of the All Black Tribe

Cinda the Hard and Stern, mighty Over Lady of the All Black Tribe, had enjoyed a glorious reign, handling crises with her inimitably smiley style, and without having to handle competent opposition to her rule. Happily for Cinda, the Blue Rinse Tribe had chosen leaders who were male, incompetent and lacking in guile. Well might Cinda smile.

Darkness had descended on the Blue Rinse Tribe however. After rolling one chieftain because of his unfortunate tone of voice, the Blue Rinse Tribe was astounded to discover that the replacement chieftain was so unprepared for the trials and tribulations of the post that he resigned after 53 days in office.

The prospect of an imminent election loomed over the leaderless tribe, and as tribes had done since time immemorial, they despairingly accepted a leader they would not have chosen in less desperate straits. Emerging from the Dark Side, as if conjured up in a seance, the Sith Lady Judith the Crusher seized ultimate power in the council of the Blue Rinse Tribe.

The Old Boys of the Blue Rinse Tribe trembled in the presence of the Woman of Steel, but they were not alone in having reasons for their fear. Cinda too, had reasons to have a care.

Judith was female. No longer could Cinda count on an enemy who was afraid to attack a woman. Judith, being no wall flower, would not wilt in the scorching heat of the parliamentary kitchen. Judith had taken the precaution of marrying a non-European man, thereby making it difficult to play the 'race card' on her. Judith was shrewd and knew she only had to wait for Cinda to make a mistake. Judith was cunning. She suspected that constant, low-level needling might eventually cause Cinda to snap and do something stupid, in the way a girl exploded in rage after receiving one barb too many from a second girl who cloaked her attack by splitting it up into a series of small and seemingly innocuous criticisms.

Have a care, Cinda" Cone Man muttered to himself. "The election may be yours to lose, but the Blue Rinse Tribe has a cat in the fight, and while you may be feisty, she's ferral ..."

Cone Man returns to writing his chronicle ...

Cone Man had survived the Lock Down. He could almost be said to have survived it too well. People spoke darkly of a new beast stalking the world known as the "Pandemic 15", referring to excess weight gained from over-consumption of comfort food while enduring enforced sedentary hibernation. Like many others, Cone Man had resolved to use the time well, and like many others the time had begun to use Cone Man and turn him into a listless slob. Unfortunately, at the age of 57, he was enduring the 'Middle-age 45' or putting it in less prosaic terms, he was 20 kilograms overweight.

He could make jokes about his girth, and even laugh about it when others made jokes about the said girth, but the truth was that the jokes weren't funny any more. Jest did not make the weight drag less heavily or lighten the tiredness that haunted him. Jest emanated from a lively mind, not one sluggish from being trapped in a sluggish body.

Cone Man had avoided the issue, but the weighty issue would not avoid him. Cone Man could not run away from being overweight. Cone Man might, he hoped, ride off the weight that stalked him.

Cone Man's man cave was located 1.5 kilometres away from the foot of the Hill of the Gods. The crest of the hill was 184 metres high, and the road over it was 3 kilometres long. Riding uphill from the Wainuiomata side of the hill required an ascent of 90 metres. Riding uphill from the other side required an ascent of 180 metres. Riding from his man cave to the other side of the hill and back thus required ascending 270 metres during a 9 kilometre round trip.

The ascent was impossible for an unfit warrior who was 20 kilograms overweight. The real mountain to surmount was psychological, he realised. If he did not ride, he could never do it. On the other hand if he never did it, he may as well not ride.

Cone Man accepted that he would have to win the battle by attrition. He began riding to the foot of the hill each day and then riding part of the way up the hill. Each day he would ride one lamp post further than the previous day, thereby increasing his fitness each day while maintaining the pressure on his legs.

There were 50 lamposts on the hill. Cone Man accepted that this would be a long and brutal campaign against the terrible Middle Age Spread monster ...