Thumper Rabbit's Daddy's Dictum

Which, if you don't know it, is: "If you can't say somethin' nice about somebody, don't say nothin' at all ..."

So, Bobbe Edmonds was in town yesterday visiting Todd and Tiel, and dropped round for a silat class.

To warm up, Guru decided that we needed to work on short-sword (ours is called a golok -- which is machete-length, though generally with a slightly-curved edge. The principles are more based on length, and that there usually isn't a guard between the blade and handle, which makes a big difference in how you block a cut. Though not all of them do, the most useful goloks have points, so that you may stab as well as slash.)

At the end of this dance, I was warm, except for my shoulder, which was frozen. The idea of keeping my elbow down somehow hasn't sunk in yet. It didn't help that I was working against Cotten, who has gained forty pounds of muscle over the last couple of years, most of it in his arms, shoulders and chest ...

We practice these drills with sticks instead of blades, but not using them like sticks -- there is a difference. The wood and plastic things are much lighter than steel, and even though they aren't blade-shaped, one must always be mindful of one's edge. A stick is not a blade.

Um. Anyway, I wound up working with Bobbe on the next set of exercises, which was absorbing and deflecting a punching attack, working on different aspects of timing. This drill requires that you stand mostly still as the attacker comes in, which you wouldn't do in a real dust-up, but for learning the process, is better. He punches, you help him miss, and set up for a sweep as he flies past.

Given all fun back-and-forth Bobbe and I do in blogland, I decided maybe it was time to say something nice about him.

So, okay, here it is:

For a kid not as old as my shoes, he doesn't move all that terribly bad ...