The Illusion of the Decisive Blow

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The Illusion of the Decisive Blow

Karate has long been split by a quiet civil war. On one side stands traditional Shotokan, cloaked in the rhetoric of budo, wary of trophies and the trivialising effect of rules. Its creed is ikken hissatsu — one decisive strike to end a fight — a philosophy that treats sport kumite as mere athletic fencing. On the other side is sport karate, fast, point-driven, and shaped by the World Karate Federation’s obsession with speed, control, and the referee’s flag. Here the aim is to score, not to maim.

Each side regards the other as missing the point. The traditionalist sees the sport fighter as conditioned to pull punches, addicted to game tactics, unfit for “real” combat. The sport stylist sees the traditionalist as rusty and untested, drilled in compliant partner routines and overtrained in kata whose utility has long since been lost in translation.

And here’s the awkward truth: both are right. Neither format, in the form commonly taught in the UK and elsewhere, reliably produces people who can handle the chaos of a street assault or the savagery of a battlefield encounter. Sport ruleset habits are hard to unlearn under adrenal stress; traditional kihon and pre-arranged kumite do not pressure-test skills against a fully resisting attacker. Neither prepares for clinch fighting, groundwork, multiple opponents, or the environmental messiness and shock of real violence.

Police and military combative systems address exactly these gaps. They strip techniques down to a small set of gross-motor movements that survive adrenaline and fatigue. They train against resistance, under stress, in scenarios that begin with verbal escalation and end with weapon retention or extraction. Striking, clinch, and ground skills are integrated; protective gear allows full-contact pressure testing. It is brutally pragmatic and entirely uninterested in the elegance of a textbook gyaku-zuki.

Why then does the traditional Shotokan community — the one most fond of claiming “combat effectiveness” — not engage with these methods? Partly, it is cultural inertia: the art’s identity is tied to its post-war pedagogy and its kata canon. Admitting the need for change would undermine decades of mystique. Partly, it’s safety and liability: full-contact, scenario-based training raises injury rates and insurance costs. 

But mostly, it is a matter of self-image.

And here’s the unspoken truth: in the civilian West, there is almost no market for Krav Maga-style fast, brutal lethality that’s genuinely pressure-tested. The existing rituals — more akin to macho war dancing than to combat — are far more congenial. They are safe, inclusive, and fun, yet still offer the illusion of an inherited warrior brother/sisterhood.

Belts, medals, and formalised bouts deliver status without danger; the pageantry is preserved, the mythology intact. Testing the myth in the chaos of real violence would strip away the comfortable spectacle, would be terrifying to the participants and leave more than a few bruises — and that’s a truth few have any incentive to face.

The best martial art for young people

I am seated at the left of the picture above, at the end of the row, with a kendo sword across my knees. This was on the playing field of Bristol Grammar School in 1964, when I was thirteen years old.

The school was quite progressive in the breadth of sports it supported as you can see: fencing, kendo, judo. So here is my advice to a young person considering studying a martial art.

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The best martial art for young people

Choosing the right martial art isn’t just about picking the one that looks most impressive in a movie or the one some self-styled expert insists is “the most effective”. Real fights are messy, chaotic affairs, and the only techniques that matter are the ones you can execute automatically—without hesitation, without thought, and certainly without consciously consulting your mental archive of choreographed moves. That’s why the way a martial art is trained matters more than the theoretical lethality of its techniques.

Let’s take three popular options: karate, boxing, and judo.

Karate is often touted as the ultimate fighting system, but it has a fundamental flaw—modern training methods. Sparring (kumite) is often light or heavily choreographed these days, and much of the training focuses instead on kata (solo forms) and kihon (repetitive drills).

These may build precision, but they don’t instill the instinctive, high-pressure reactions needed in a real fight. If you’re unaccustomed to applying techniques in live combat, they won’t magically materialize when you need them. Hesitation equals defeat.

Boxing is better in this regard. Training involves regular sparring, conditioning fighters to react under fear and pressure. However, the most effective techniques—full-power strikes to the head—come with an inherent problem: repeated blows to the skull are not conducive to long-term brain health. While a hardened boxer is formidable in a street fight, few people want to endure the cumulative damage required to reach that level of effectiveness.

And that brings us to judo. When I trained in judo as a youth, every class involved at least 20 minutes of randori—live, full-contact sparring: throws, immobilisation holds and joint-locks. Over weeks, months, and years, this developed automatic reactions: gripping, positioning, attack and defence, and controlling an opponent on the ground.

Because judo is designed to be non-lethal, it allows for continuous, realistic practice without the fear of permanent injury. This is its greatest strength—techniques become second nature, and when conflict arises, you react instinctively. More importantly, judo equips you to neutralize an opponent without excessive force. You won’t kill anyone, and you won’t end up facing a manslaughter charge for defending yourself.

So, for anyone looking for a martial art that builds self-confidence, resilience, and real-world effectiveness, judo is by far the best choice.

It allows you to train the way you’d need to act in a fight, ensuring that when the moment comes, your body moves smoothly and rapidly without needing permission from your brain.

And in a real fight, that’s what makes all the difference.

ChatGPT interviews me about Martial Arts

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ChatGPT: How did you first get into martial arts?

Nigel: I think I was 10 or 11 when I got the idea to do Judo: it seemed empowering. My mother was against it, thinking it would make me violent. My father came to my rescue, telling her that such training would stand me in good stead if I got caught up in any bar brawls. I imagine he was recalling his army days—this would have been around 1961-2.

I used to cycle up to the local club on Saturday mornings, they used a scout hut on the Southmead Road, near Filton aerodrome. I was keen and worked my way through the Mon grades of the junior system. Back then, gradings required contest victories, and I won enough.

ChatGPT: Did you have a favorite technique or style of fighting?

Nigel: Tai-otoshi—body drop. It suited my build: long and lanky. I was never very good at hip or shoulder throws. Once, in a grading contest, I got caught by a sucker-punch. My opponent used tomoe-nage, the stomach throw. It’s spectacular—an instant ippon, a victory. But it should never work against a prepared opponent; the counter is too easy. Just squat down and go straight to groundwork with the advantage of being on top!

ChatGPT: Did you continue Judo into adulthood?

Nigel: I kept it up in secondary school, but university and then work took over. I dabbled a bit later, but I never returned to it systematically. A shame, but priorities are what they are.

ChatGPT: Did you explore other martial arts later?

Nigel: Briefly. I tried karate a few years later, but in those days, it was all punching the air and ferocious numbers of push-ups. Too hard for me, and the benefits were years away. Aikido? I went to a few lessons, but it seemed curiously placid and ineffectual. I couldn’t buy into it.

ChatGPT: And T’ai Chi? How did that fit into your journey?

Nigel: I never thought of T’ai Chi as a combat art. You get what you train for. If you go slow and don’t spar for real, you’ll win no fights. For me, T’ai Chi was about Taoist ideas—balance, a calm frame of mind, and kinaesthetic awareness. You could see the difference between the newbies and the adepts: I wanted to be like those who flowed through the form, and I think I’ve got there.

ChatGPT: Did Taoism lead you to T’ai Chi, or was it the other way around?

Nigel: Taoism came first. I’ve always had sympathy for Lao Tzu’s idea of immanent harmony. But I’m also mindful of Cheng Man Ch’ing’s remark that Taoism is for the philosopher-hermit on his hill, while Confucianism is for those who live in the world. My adherence to the Catholic Church probably reflects the wisdom of that remark.

ChatGPT: So, would you say you’ve always balanced the philosophical with the practical?

Nigel: I’m open to the deep mysticism of consciousness in the universe, for sure. But I also believe combat skills matter in an uncertain world. Shotokan Karate reminded me of that. I achieved 7th kyu (yellow belt) in nine months of regular training. Realistically, though, I think first dan, plus hard kumite getting there, is the minimal precondition for useful skill. In another life, I’d have liked to get there.

ChatGPT: You mentioned earlier that martial arts should unify inner spirit and outward efficiency. Did you see that in your training?

Nigel: Yes. My Shotokan Sensei, a 6th dan, insisted on that unity, as do all serious martial arts. The hard and soft styles ultimately converge. I first encountered that idea as a child in Judo, and I’ve always internalised it as the goal.

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Two Years of Karate (2022-2024)

Paul Mitchell, 6th Dan, Shotokan Karate

Today it is two years since I rolled up to the dojo at Wells Blue School, and asked the Sensei, Paul Mitchell (6th Dan), whether I could observe. He brusquely pointed to the left hand end of the line, where the lowest grades and newbies stood, and said, "Join in there."

I graded as orange belt (9th kyu) on Tuesday November 22nd 2022. Three months later, on February 14th 2023 I was promoted to red belt, (8th kyu) and I gained yellow belt (7th kyu) on May 20th.

But through most of my training I had developed pins and needles in my left foot, with pain in my buttock which made sitting difficult. That's nerve damage: sciatica. I concluded that shotokan karate training, with its high kicks and aggressive turns, was just wreaking havoc with my 72 year old body. On Tuesday June 13th 2023 I had the difficult conversation with Paul, telling him I had to withdraw from further classes.

That was not the end.

I had a private lesson with Paul a few months later, when I was beginning to feel a little better. "Is it possible to do karate in a manner similar to T'ai Chi, where you focus on balance, stretching, memory and poise rather than speed and power?"

Paul, who is a teacher of T'ai Chi as well as karate, emphasised that indeed it was, while straightening me out on Heian Sandan.

I no longer attend classes, but my regular weekly gym sessions include kihon, sanbon kumite and the first four Heian katas, done in the way Sensei Mitchell proposed. It's good for me (I also do T'ai Chi and the sword form in these sessions) and keeps up the tradition.

I find shotokan karate endlessly fascinating: its relationship to real street-fighting skills ("How many of these black belts have ever been in a real fight," one of the blue belts once said to me scornfully, "apart from Paul Mitchell?"), as well as its purpose and philosophy in the early twenty-first century in the developed world.

Draft Notes for My Obituary

From ChatGPT

We went to a funeral last Thursday. Iris Klim, aged 95, a parishioner. Her son gave a eulogy: pleasant, informative, affectionate, moving. A model of its type.

Nigel said he would prefer something different when his time comes …

Skate rapidly over my life, he said: youthful communist - a militant of the Fourth International; software developer turned researcher in Artificial Intelligence; successful freelance designer of telecoms networks.

Nigel's wife and children confirm his weird and bizarre opinions.

He claimed that the passage of time is a psychological illusion, that all times exist as if in amber. He claimed Albert Einstein as an authority on this. He said that, in any case, both space and time are not fundamental: the universe we live in is an emergent artefact of quantum entanglement - true reality is set in abstract Hilbert space.

Honestly!

Nigel had yellow belts in Judo and Karate, and years of T'ai Chi. He practised these arts to the end but never fought anyone for real (after an inconclusive  scrap when he was nine  - he was provoked!).

He died a Catholic, although for most of his life he was irreligious. He said that the apocryphal Martian anthropologist (a methodological nihilist) might say that human beings were simply biological machines. But ‘it is not like anything to be’ any of the machines we know about. The materialist faith that consciousness is reducible to neural net operations is no more than that; in any case explanations do not account for lived experience: that is the mystery and reality which theology encompasses better than anything else. Anyway, he was drawn more to Catholic deontology than any specific ontology: how we live is important.

Nigel puzzled over the continuity of personal identity. How do we know that we, now, are the same person who will wake up tomorrow morning? Actually, he said, we can’t know. Many people are quite like us, whoever we are. Personal memory is always mentioned, he said, but who’d die in a ditch for that when it comes to the foundational nature of our very selves?

So at this space-time moment, in this branch of the universal wave-function, you should say: Nigel has passed on. He wanted you to know that in the great enduring sea of consciousness and human experience, it’s not such a big deal. Except to those who shared our lives together, for whom it is everything.

On biting the hand that 'protects' you

Clare, picking up the post this morning, said, "Your Ninja Turtle magazine's arrived."

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And here's Clare at the East Somerset Railway station four days ago.

Wushu at the Gym today

The sword in its bag: Wushu = Martial Art

Clare turns left at the entrance, heading toward the swimming pool and her twenty lengths. Me, I turn right for the sports hall.

After a few minutes of warm-up exercises and stretches, I do a six minute t'ai chi form. I'm concentrating on posture (should be lower), balance (especially the kicks), rhythm and flow. I know I'm too fast; it should be more like eight minutes but I can't help but be tugged by martial intent (now with speed and power!).

Next comes the Cheng Man-ch'ing sword form using my Christmas present of the heavier wooden sword (pictured above). I start with a three or four minute form - slow! - to focus on correct posture, flow and balance. Then speed up for power and intent. As in a karate kata, you should imagine an invisible opponent and deliver killing strikes to the neck, limbs and body.

Now it's time for the first four Heian kata. I perform each one once, fairly slowly in a t'ai chi fashion, because I'm not young. I'm looking for accuracy and flow - it's getting there, especially for Heian Yondan with which I am least familiar.

I finish with a further round of either the sword or t'ai chi form and then it's off to the café for a coffee, to relax and wait for Clare.

Thirty minutes of practice, three times a week.

My 'Talk' with the Karate Sensei

Sensei: “Welcome. You wanted this meeting, so what did you want to talk about?”

Me: “Traditional Shotokan Karate: I think you have an identity crisis.”

Sensei: “Why?”

Me: “Focus first on the 'Traditional'. You don't like competitive sports karate. You think it distorts the art, moves it away from combat effectiveness.”

Sensei (gruffly): “That's right. It's all about dancing up and down, high-kicking, lightness of touch and fast, instant withdrawal for point scoring. And so they lose true lethality.”

Me: “Your own classes are quite kinetic though. Plenty of technique (kihon), and kata. But looking at the class, the students seem overwhelmed by the number of techniques and kata they have to learn. And they don't do much sparring (kumite).”

Sensei: “That's because it takes at least two to three years to get technique into automatic muscle memory so that sparring practice is useful.”

Me: “Yet surely a disinterested observer would conclude that sports such as boxing and MMA, which make sparring central, are more effective on the street. You get what you train for. And you get to be effective within the first year.”

Sensei: “Karate isn't just fighting skills: it comes with a cultural tradition of personal development, honour, self-discipline and spirituality.”

Me: “That is mostly anchored in the kata, 26 in all, which could take a lifetime to learn well - and that's not at all a criticism. Yet the combat application of kata, the bunkai, isn't well integrated with sparring and seems ill-understood, even controversial?”

Sensei: “Yet the essence of karate is to be found in the kata.”

Me: “It seems to me that if you want to be an effective street fighter then boxing or MMA are the ways to go. Motobu Choki pointed out that kata are almost irrelevant. The martial values of self-control, self-discipline and honour are present in all the formalised fighting traditions.

“If, on the other hand, you want the health benefits of balance, flexibility, suppleness, mental calmness and spirituality, then the T’ai Chi Ch’uan form, which is equivalent to kata, has exactly those objectives.

“Surely Traditional Shotokan Karate is simply trapped between these two poles, neither one thing or the other?”

Sensei: “The two aspects you point out are indeed dimensions within karate. Different masters emphasise one more than the other perhaps, depending upon their interests and inclinations. 

“Yet there is no shallow route to deep understanding of the art. Once their energy goes, people have to retire from the practice of boxing and MMA. T’ai Chi Ch’uan can lose its grounding in brutal combat effectiveness, veering off into the arbitrariness and superficiality of choreography: 'mere dance'. 

“The lifelong study of karate in all its complexity - it's a deep immersion into an ancient warrior culture: one which is absent and even deprecated in modern life.”

Me: “Agreed. But your class really falls between two stools. Many students are middle class and not very aggressive: your focus on power, speed and martial spirit falls upon stony ground. Yet the level of physical engagement in kihon, kata and kumite (when performed with speed and power which is always the end objective) makes the class too strenuous and damaging for seniors like me.

“Perhaps you should have two classes: one focused on the external form of the art, forceful kihon and kumite with kata backing it up; the other inclining to the internal art, centred around mindful, low-adrenalin study of the kata?”

Sensei: “Had we but world enough and time! It won't have escaped your notice that ninety five percent of people who attend karate class want to develop effective combat capability. Those who lose the physicality to train migrate across to T'ai Chi, as do those who are primarily interested in health or spiritual matters.

“So I believe you'll find what you need in T'ai Chi. I regret that I can't run a health and spiritual class founded on karate technique and kata; I simply can't afford the opportunity cost.” 

A psychotherapist intervenes.

Psychotherapist: “Nigel, you are just driven and you aren't even aware of it. You are bereft unless you can latch onto a goal, then focus all your efforts on attaining it. You are too old for karate! Get over it - let it go!

“You know the T'ai Chi form, you know the T'ai Chi sword form. Practise them when you want to, otherwise don't bother. You don't need a schedule, you don't need a plan to continually 'get better', there is nothing to achieve.

“Relax, and enjoy the people in your life. In fact, grow up!”

Me: “Thank you Sensei and wise counsellor. I see now that you are both wholly in the right.”

Bard summarises my karate plans

 Can You Still Do Karate With Health Issues?

Karate is a great martial art that can provide many benefits for people of all ages and fitness levels. However, if you have health issues like sciatica or joint pain, you may be wondering if you can still continue practicing karate.

The good news is that you can still do karate even if you have health issues. In fact, karate can actually be beneficial for your health.

One way to continue practicing karate with health issues is to focus on kata. Kata are choreographed sequences of movements that are used to develop muscle memory and technique.

Kata can be practiced slowly and fluidly, which is gentle on the joints and muscles. This makes kata a great option for people with health issues.

In addition to being gentle on the body, kata has many other benefits for people with health issues. Kata can help to improve balance, coordination, and flexibility. It can also help to reduce stress and anxiety.

If you have health issues and you're interested in continuing to practice karate, I encourage you to talk to your Sensei about focusing on kata. Kata is a great way to stay active and healthy, even if you have health limitations.

Here is a more detailed look at the benefits of practicing karate kata for health reasons:

• Improved balance and coordination: Kata requires you to move your body in a variety of ways, which can help to improve your balance and coordination. This is important for people of all ages, but it can be especially beneficial for older adults who are at risk of falls.

• Increased flexibility: Kata can help to increase your flexibility by stretching your muscles and joints. This can help to improve your range of motion and reduce your risk of injuries.

• Reduced stress and anxiety: Kata can be a great way to relieve stress and anxiety. The repetitive movements and focus on breathing can help to calm the mind and body.

• Improved mental focus and concentration: Kata requires you to focus on your movements and breathing, which can help to improve your mental focus and concentration. This can be beneficial for people who have difficulty concentrating or who are easily stressed.

• Increased self-confidence and self-esteem: Kata can help to improve your self-confidence and self-esteem. As you master the kata, you will feel a sense of accomplishment and pride. This can lead to a more positive outlook on life.

If you are interested in learning more about how karate kata can benefit your health, I encourage you to talk to your Sensei or a qualified karate instructor. They can help you develop a safe and effective kata practice routine that is tailored to your individual needs and fitness level.

Here are some tips for practicing karate kata for health reasons:

• Start slowly and gradually increase the speed and intensity of your kata practice as you get stronger.
• Focus on proper form and technique. This will help to prevent injuries.
• Listen to your body and take breaks when you need them.
• Make sure to warm up and cool down before and after your kata practice.
• Practice in a safe environment.
• If you have any health concerns, talk to your doctor before starting a kata practice routine.

With a little planning and effort, you can enjoy the many benefits of karate kata for health reasons, even if you have health issues.

I hope this blog post has been helpful. If you have any questions, please feel free to leave a comment below.

How martial should the T'ai Chi forms be?

At the gym today: twenty five minutes practicing the 24 posture T'ai Chi form and the 54 posture sword form: two or three times each. The Cheng Man-ch'ing versions.

Cheng Man-ch'ing demonstrating the sword form

The common image is of old men doing exercises in the park, very slowly. But I've always felt that the core of the discipline is its martial intent. You should know the bunkai (the combat intent) for each posture.

I also think that at least some of the time you should do the forms fast and lethally, as if you intend to dispose of an opponent. That's the story for karate kata - slow while you're learning and to hone technique - fast when perfected and with power and spirit. When I look at videos of Cheng Man-ch'ing and his student Ken van Sickle demonstrating the sword form (e.g. below) they are much faster than is currently convenient for me.

When practicing, I run through the forms slowly then faster with an opponent in mind.

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Ken van Sickle demonstrating the sword form

The T'ai Chi Sword Form

Part of the Cheng Man-ch'ing sword form

My last post was about stopping karate training. The chronic sciatica which prompted this is still with me, five weeks later, but I sense an improving trend.

The Cheng Man-ch'ing T'ai Chi form (empty handed, 24 postures) and the weapon form shown above are not a health problem however. The movements are slow, symmetrical and balanced without powerful impulsive strikes, turns and kicks. 

Puting the Daoist paradigm to one side, from a purely functional point of view T'ai Chi 'katas' are training balance, coordination, kinaesthetic sense, relaxation and, of course, a meditative psychological state. Such benefits come only when the sequences are as natural as driving, after many years of practice: I have been working on the sword form for six months.

Nine Months of Karate

After my yellow belt grading last month (May).

A short chronology

• First karate class: Saturday 3rd September 2022
• First grading: 9th kyu orange belt, Tuesday November 22nd 2022.
• Second grading: 8th kyu red belt, February 14th 2023.
• Third grading: 7th kyu yellow belt, May 20th 2023.
• Ceased training (sciatica): Tuesday June 13th 2023.

Despite my best hopes, my aging seventy-two year old body is incapable of supporting the endless repetitions of strikes, blocks and kicks of an unarmed combat art. There is a reason why the armed forces don't take guys my age.

I contemplate the deep pains in my left buttock, left leg and foot; the numbness and the tingling; the sharp jolts in the joints: and reluctantly leave my friends in the club to continue their long journey. By departing I affirm the very difficulty and exclusivity of the mission.

I continue to practice T'ai Chi and to exercise the T'ai Chi sword form.

A Better World, Where Are You?

 

"I was brought up as a member of the Church of England and simply follow the customs of my tribe. The church is part of my culture; I like the rituals and the music. If I had grown up in Iraq, I would go to a mosque… It seems to me that people who attack religion don’t really understand it. Science and religion can coexist peacefully — although I don’t think they have much to say to each other. What I would like best would be for scientists not even to use the word “God.” … Fundamental physics shows how hard it is for us to grasp even the simplest things in the world. That makes you quite skeptical whenever someone declares he has the key to some deeper reality… I know that we don’t yet even understand the hydrogen atom — so how could I believe in dogmas? I’m a practicing Christian, but not a believing one."

My position is not quite the same as Martin Rees's.

To be esoteric for a moment, I am a deontic Catholic: not one who buys into the Confessional ontology (i.e. a literal, uncritical, ahistorical reading of the sacred texts). Though paradoxically, it's only when the vast majority of adherents and clergy cleave to a Confessional ontology that the institution persists through the endless millennia. 

Nevertheless historical, materialist deontology is the right paradigm (Roger Scruton is my go-to guy here on deontology).

Sally Rooney hints that with the death of the Marxist-Leninist, communist ideal, Catholicism is one of the few remaining subversive forces insofar as - at its best - it counterposes and organises social solidarity based on high ethical principles against an alienated rootlessness taken to absurdity by a debilitating, progressive wokeness - from which elevated standpoint Catholicism is popularly ridiculed, or treated as absurd or incomprehensible.

(There are other countercultures which also deserve support: those arts which uplift, unify and empower ordinary people and exemplify unfashionable virtues: duty, honour, courage, competence, resilience.)

Sally Rooney's characters in "Beautiful World, Where Are You?" reflect on their ineffectual exposition of a fashionable, but sterile and impotent Marxism. They unwillingly experience the attraction of the granite, collective worldview of the eternal and universal Catholic Church: so often hijacked institutionally by bad people… so often bureaucratically underpinning reaction... but as John Dominic Crossan has so eloquently outlined, so revolutionary and omnipresent in its core doctrine.

I pass my first karate grading

After the grading: orange belt - 9th kyu

Two and a half months after starting Traditional Shotokan Karate, I passed my first grading last night and now have my orange belt. I am absurdly pleased!

Paul, a brown belt, said to me afterwards with a wry smile: "Welcome to the ladder of hell!"

The Sensei was extremely helpful in this first grading (I got most things right) and confided that he had hated all his gradings: "Except one time, when I was taking my second dan back in 1995. I suddenly realised half way through I was enjoying it."

I was of course nervous beforehand, even though it's really hard to fail your first grading. You really want to display all the skills you think you have, and not be flustered.

The next phase of training focuses on the first of the Heian katas, Heian Shodan.

Heian Shodan

On restarting karate at age 71 (Saturday Sept 3rd 2022)

Gedan Barai (low block)

 "So before I went I was thinking about the last time I went to a karate class where I had to sit on the floor and spread my legs very wide and bend towards each foot, and it was very painful; also do ferocious push-ups on a hard wooden floor. 

That quite exhausted me but this was actually not at all such a bad experience. The guy who runs it, I'd say he's ISTJ (we're talking Myers-Briggs here) with a big extraverted presence though - plenty of charisma. According to his website he’s a spiritual kind of person - into Daoism - but very different from my T'ai Chi teacher, who's really free and easy. This guy is quite imperious; he called people out: ‘You look at me when I'm talking. Karate, it's serious stuff. If you're here, you do it right.’

So they all came in their gear, their white gis. The first thing that struck me: they were driving here from wherever they lived, parking their cars in the car park. I walked in and followed them: the dojo is actually the gymnasium at the back of the building facing the sports field. 

It's a hard polished, wooden floor. There were about, I would say, 20-25 people there: some brown and black belts, some orange belts; quite experienced people and a few white belts showing absolute beginners.  The age range was enormous. I was obviously the oldest person there at 71, there were some people below the age of 11: a little girl of seven or eight, a little boy. And then some kids around 11 or 12 and some young men. 

I was placed at the left side of the line as a newbie with the higher grades towards the right. We started by getting down on our knees and sitting on our heels. So, he says, you'll find this posture quite uncomfortable (a euphemism for painful) but this is what we do. 

It certainly is quite uncomfortable, kneeling on a hard, wooden floor sitting on your heels. So, we did that for a minute or two. I was thinking, this is the first test: if you can handle the pain you've already passed. Then we did warm-ups, the kind that we do before the Shibashi QiGong. 

Then we practiced kihon, basic techniques: some standard punches, punching and advancing, that kind of thing, getting the postures right.  And then towards the end some forward kicks, balancing on one leg, flicking the other leg out like a whip, out and back again, then stepping forward and turning. And it all looked more dynamic than T'ai Chi ever does because things were being done fast and with aggression. 

The Sensei was working with one of the orange belts as his opponent to show exactly how to do the punches, how to do the ward-off deflects and so forth. So that was good and I didn't find it too tiring. It's a bit of a workout but not a super-hard one. Not to the point of sweating or physical exhaustion or anything. I know that when you do things like sparring - kumite - where you're moving very fast, and extended kata sequences, you'll be working much harder. 

The padded boards he promised would arrive soon: then you'd definitely be doing more work than just learning the moves, which is what we were doing today. We finished on the hour and that was it. The cost was six pounds  and the next session is on Tuesday evening half past six. 

I spoke to the Sensei afterwards and said, thank you very much, and he seemed a perfectly friendly kind of guy, so that was my day." 

"And what are your thoughts on going?" 

"Well, I think it's, I think it's good. I mean, I got to see the people who know what they're doing. They were performing well in my opinion, linking up moves and doing extended sequences, looking very crisp and balanced - so fast! 

There are three things you're doing in karate. One is that you learn kihon, the basics of the moves themselves: how to do a punch, a block, how to do a kick. 

The  second thing is, you learn kata, a kata is an extended sequence like the T'ai Chi form where you're doing a succession of punches, blocks, spin turns and kicks, joining everything up. And the third is called kumite, which is choreographed sparring, at least initially. 

Later, in competitive kumite, you have an opponent and you could be doing freeform sparring with them. I don't know how he does it. I don't know whether he pads people up and has them, you know, hitting with a sort of muffled force. 

He was a bit short-handed today because his other black belts who normally assist him were all away on holiday . So I didn't see anything like that and we just did the basics today.“