OK, so Shabba Ranks I am not, although we could almost be twins?! I've been deliberating whether to tell you about Tuesday or not, but as we're practically family and I feel I can tell you (almost) anything, what the hell...but be warned, you really may not want to read on, so feel free to shuffle off for a jaffa cake and a Midsomer Murders instead.
Still with me? Then gather in, as others may be listening.
As previously mentioned in this Web Log (or Blog as we like to call it), I am not a stud. Bright - ish, funny - kinda of, well mannered - definitely, but the Don Juan of Putney - not on your nelly. Kate's flirting challenge has provided some degree of angst - with some rather marvellous moments too - but Ron Jeremy I am most certainly not. If I'm quite honest my problems with sex are two fold; I'm a romantic at heart and I struggle to disengage my brain. That's not to say I don't enjoy sex - who doesn't? It's just that sex, for me, usually has to involve a degree of romance - you know, a bit of smooching, some kissing, some good-natured giggling and a good cuddle - and it needs to be with someone I feel relaxed with. So when I visited a Tarot Card reader on my trip to Brighton and was left with the parting advice 'stop analysing everything and go get laid' it almost felt like Challenge #31; to make the most of being single and do what most blokes in my situation would do; namely fill my boots.
To cut a long story short, on Tuesday night following a jolly night in the pub, I found myself on a strange doorstep at 10.00pm being invited in for a drink by someone I can only describe as 'unbelieveably fit' and who didn't want me for my mind! Now, this scenario always puts me in mind of the old Gold Blend adverts, which ran for about 10 years after which time, the couple in question finally got round to shagging. Heaven knows why it took them so long, she couldn't have made it more obvious if she'd answered the door with her knickers on her head! But I digress...to my knowledge I've never had a one-night stand (given I spent much of my early 20s drunk, I am waiting for someone to correct me on this??), preferring the more sensible, more romantic route of going on a round of dates and getting to know someone first. Well my mother brought me up properly and I always like to know with whom I'm having the pleasure! My first instinct was to politely decline and do the 'decent thing' but then I remembered 'the cards' and the fact that I am the new, confident me, pushing boundaries and living life to the full. Spontaneity is my new middle name.
I won't go into too many details, but thirty minutes later after a ridiculous amount of flirting (Kate - you'd be proud) nothing had happened. I kept telling myself to make 'the move' and get on with it, but having not found myself in this situation for over eleven years, I was ridiculously out of practice. I couldn't help but keep thinking 'what if I've misread the signs; what if they thought I looked thirsty and were merely being polite? Suddenly I knew exactly why it had taken ten years to break the seal of that ruddy jar of Gold Blend.
Eventually, the stand off ended when a hand reached over and squeezed my shoulder in such a way, that I determined that I was, in fact 'in'. This was the time to stay cool, look confident, man up and do what any stud would do. But what would a stud do in this situation???
...whatever it is I'm pretty confident uttering the words 'nice lamp' wouldn't have been top of the list. But there I was in full Hugh Grant, bumbling mode jabbering on like Vicky Pollard on speed about all sorts of inane rubbish, until I was silenced by a pair or lips locking against mine. Now, think about nuns or your elderly uncle or Richard Whiteley, because you really don't need to let your mind go too deeply into this image, however with the tension finally broken, sheer, unbridalled passion commenced and it was amazing. Within what seemed liked moments the floor was covered in recklessly abandoned clothers, just like the movies and I felt like a proper Latin lothario. As I gazed on the most perfect, naked form I'd ever set eyes on (in real life, at any road) it felt as though a big fat man in a red suit with a big white beard had delivered sack upon sack of presents my way...
...and then the brain kicked it. 'OMG, you're amazing' suddenly became 'OMG, I'd better be good'; the 'you are sooo beautiful' was rudely elbowed out of the way by the 'Why didn't I spend more time in the gym instead of eating cake' and those moments of sheer unbridalled passion slowly became submerged under growing pressure and doubts. I fought desperately against them and it was a mighty battle in which both sides swung back and forth and for a long time there was no clear winner.
And then the cramp hit. I'd no idea my leg had been stuck in the one position for so long, but frustrated with my lack of attentiveness it rebelled with an almighty shooting pain which made me both wince and grimace at the same time. As my immaculate partner became more stunning as the beads of sweat formed on their flawless face, I was left hopping around trying to regain circulation, increasingly aware that I was a red, sweaty scruff hyperventilating through the effort required to suck my stomach in and now with a limp. In truth I started to find the whole episode quite laughable and found it difficult to stifle my giggles, but when I looked up and saw a frustrated, bemused and slightly weary pair of eyes looking back at me, I suddenly realised the whole ridiculousness of the situation.
I went home soon after following a conversation involving the standard apologies and 'it doesn't matter' cliches. A long, lingering kiss on the doorstep told me the night hadn't been a complete washout...and I had pulled at a level several stratospheres above my station. However, in the days that followed in which I went from laughing my head off to physically banging my head against random walls I came to realise that the studly life isn't for me. I am destined never to be the new Callum Best, but instead will happily wait until I meet a special someone who I want to date, who finds life as ridiculous as I do and who knows how to relieve cramp
Monday, 18 July 2011
Friday, 15 July 2011
Day 60 (13 July 2011) - 'Go West, life is peaceful there...
...Go West, in the open air'
Alroight my lovers? Look, 14 days have passed since my last post! How did I let that happen? Big apologies, quite unforgiveable. Life has been moving at a million miles an hour in those fourteen days and I think only one of those fourteen has involved staying in. It's been a whirlwind of dinner, drinking, parties, drinking, catching up with friends, drinking, karaoke and drinking. Whilst it's been tremendous fun and very enjoyable, it's done nothing for my waistline, my bank balance or my sleep patterns. Think this is how George Best started? As fun as life currently is, I'm beginning to look like Dale Winton, so one of those leaves of the new variety needs to be turned over, as I am 50% drunk and 50% knackered at the moment.
However, in spite of the frenetic period, I haven't forgotten my quests. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Task 29 - Come and vist me in Bath (you bastard) - John.
John is one of my oldest and best friends. He and his wonderful wife, Ellen, rival the Casleys for the title of 'Most Intelligent Couple in the World'. Yet, in spite of having brains the size of small countries, they combine this with a humility, warmth and sheer daft-as-a-brushness which makes them instantly loveable. We've been friends for nearly 30 years and although we only see each other once or twice a year, seeing him is so wonderfully easy and instantly makes me feel 16 again. I always think of our English lessons at Sixth Form, where John would veer between making super-bright points and drawing pictures of our English teacher 'The Balloonatic' with various parts of his body up his bottom - not helped by the fact that for all his many skills and attributes, John (or 'The Cedilla' as I know him) is quite possibly the most piss-poor artist on the planet (sorry Cedilla). I would spend much of my time trying to stifle laughter, normally with a good deal of success (it was the drama classes); sadly this is John's other failing; he seemed to think that biting on his finger or holding an Arden Shakespeare immediately in front of his face would disguise the fact he was shaking uncontrollably and snorting! Unbelievably, that same teacher told my Mum at Parents' Evening, that John was a great influence on me?! Dread to think what would have happened with a bad influence?
So, last weekend, I headed off to Bath for two days and as always, had a thoroughly lovely break. We laughed - a lot - most of it led by total nonsense, just as I like it, and enjoyed great food (Ellen's hospitality is second to none) and lots of wine (surprise!). John and Ellen were, as always, exactly as I left them: amusing, hospitable and generally loveable in their beautiful home which exudes warmth and contentment from every brick. With both being / having been English lecturers (they're both Drs, don't you know!) they also have a veritable library which always fascinates me. I always secretly enjoy thumbing their Penguin Classics in their spare room (one of these days, they're going to catch me!
As anyone who knows me will testify, I regularly and openly champion London as the best city in the world. Granted, there are lots of places I haven't visited - Kabul may be lovely? - but as much as I love New York, Paris and Barcelona, nothing quite compares to what has been my home for the last 13 years and I can never envisage living anywhere else. Yet, whilst I can't reconcile the thought of not having London on my doorstep, I found myself being seduced by Bath's charms. Maybe I need to indulge in some proper human to human seduction, maybe it was being with one of my oldest and bestest friends, or maybe Bath really is that lovely. Whatever the reason, I found myself looking in estate agent windows and considering which area of Bath would suit me best. Not that I'm going anywhere yet, but for a fleeting moment I had a vision of a totally different life that may lie ahead of me. Bath is, quite simply, stunning.
As I headed back on the train to London (seeking flirting opportunities, as per Kate's instructions - none forthcoming, sadly) I realised that whilst generally in life I'm all a bit up in the air and a tad lost, those few hours with close friends were worth a gazillion drunken nights out. Now, if I can just hang on to that thought...
Alroight my lovers? Look, 14 days have passed since my last post! How did I let that happen? Big apologies, quite unforgiveable. Life has been moving at a million miles an hour in those fourteen days and I think only one of those fourteen has involved staying in. It's been a whirlwind of dinner, drinking, parties, drinking, catching up with friends, drinking, karaoke and drinking. Whilst it's been tremendous fun and very enjoyable, it's done nothing for my waistline, my bank balance or my sleep patterns. Think this is how George Best started? As fun as life currently is, I'm beginning to look like Dale Winton, so one of those leaves of the new variety needs to be turned over, as I am 50% drunk and 50% knackered at the moment.
However, in spite of the frenetic period, I haven't forgotten my quests. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Task 29 - Come and vist me in Bath (you bastard) - John.
John is one of my oldest and best friends. He and his wonderful wife, Ellen, rival the Casleys for the title of 'Most Intelligent Couple in the World'. Yet, in spite of having brains the size of small countries, they combine this with a humility, warmth and sheer daft-as-a-brushness which makes them instantly loveable. We've been friends for nearly 30 years and although we only see each other once or twice a year, seeing him is so wonderfully easy and instantly makes me feel 16 again. I always think of our English lessons at Sixth Form, where John would veer between making super-bright points and drawing pictures of our English teacher 'The Balloonatic' with various parts of his body up his bottom - not helped by the fact that for all his many skills and attributes, John (or 'The Cedilla' as I know him) is quite possibly the most piss-poor artist on the planet (sorry Cedilla). I would spend much of my time trying to stifle laughter, normally with a good deal of success (it was the drama classes); sadly this is John's other failing; he seemed to think that biting on his finger or holding an Arden Shakespeare immediately in front of his face would disguise the fact he was shaking uncontrollably and snorting! Unbelievably, that same teacher told my Mum at Parents' Evening, that John was a great influence on me?! Dread to think what would have happened with a bad influence?
So, last weekend, I headed off to Bath for two days and as always, had a thoroughly lovely break. We laughed - a lot - most of it led by total nonsense, just as I like it, and enjoyed great food (Ellen's hospitality is second to none) and lots of wine (surprise!). John and Ellen were, as always, exactly as I left them: amusing, hospitable and generally loveable in their beautiful home which exudes warmth and contentment from every brick. With both being / having been English lecturers (they're both Drs, don't you know!) they also have a veritable library which always fascinates me. I always secretly enjoy thumbing their Penguin Classics in their spare room (one of these days, they're going to catch me!
As anyone who knows me will testify, I regularly and openly champion London as the best city in the world. Granted, there are lots of places I haven't visited - Kabul may be lovely? - but as much as I love New York, Paris and Barcelona, nothing quite compares to what has been my home for the last 13 years and I can never envisage living anywhere else. Yet, whilst I can't reconcile the thought of not having London on my doorstep, I found myself being seduced by Bath's charms. Maybe I need to indulge in some proper human to human seduction, maybe it was being with one of my oldest and bestest friends, or maybe Bath really is that lovely. Whatever the reason, I found myself looking in estate agent windows and considering which area of Bath would suit me best. Not that I'm going anywhere yet, but for a fleeting moment I had a vision of a totally different life that may lie ahead of me. Bath is, quite simply, stunning.
As I headed back on the train to London (seeking flirting opportunities, as per Kate's instructions - none forthcoming, sadly) I realised that whilst generally in life I'm all a bit up in the air and a tad lost, those few hours with close friends were worth a gazillion drunken nights out. Now, if I can just hang on to that thought...
Thursday, 30 June 2011
Day 46 (30 June 2011) - Look for the bare necessities...
...the simple bare necessities.'
Now before I begin, I need to make an announcement:
'THIS POST CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF A GRAPHIC NATURE. ANYONE OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION SHOULD LOOK AWAY NOW'
This week, I've been on my holibobs. But due to potential flat-buying situation - and the cost of all this travel you've recommended - I'm having a stay-cation (get me with the lingo!) So, the plan was to have some lovely, cheap days out with a bit of Carpe Diem thrown in, to keep my 'challengeing year' going.
With Sunday being such a scorcher and Monday promising to be even hotter, I decided to pack my bucket and spade and head to Brighton. The last time I went was c.12 years ago when Iain lived down there. That night turned out to be a spectacularly unsuccessful pulling night, when early in the evening, I bit a huge chunk out of my tongue and spent the rest of the evening with loo paper round my mouth trying to stem the flow of blood.
Brighton is a charming place. The Lanes (a section of small, mazy...erm...lanes) is full of charming, independent shops and cafes. The people seem ridiculously chilled-out and happy and it's become super-trendy, often now referred to as London-on-Sea. So, off I popped on Monday morning, armed with a couple of paperbacks and my Ipod ready for a relaxing day.
I had an awesome day, mooching around, drinking coffee, trying not to buy all sorts of interesting stuff (was very disciplined) and chilling out on the beach.
You may remember that the inspiration for this year was the Baz Luhrmann song 'Everybody's free to wear Sunscreen' You do? Good! I should add at this point that I slapped the Factor 30 on all day. In my opening post I mentioned the fact that, like a true Brit, I'm incredibly body conscious. Yes, my face and hands resemble both Des O'Connor and a leather handbag, but my body is practically vampirish, having not seen the sun since 1962. In short, I've never been at all comfortable with getting my flabby bits out in public.
I tend to try to keep myself fit, but a combination of bad food choices; bad drink choices and a lack of portion control have taken their toll over the years. However, I've been making conscious efforts to try to resolve this - well, certainly on the food front, if not the alcohol. As a result, on Monday morning, for the first time in ten years, I got on the scales and was greeted with a sub-10 stone clocking. Granted, I had just been on the treadmill for an hour, so was ridiculously dehydrated and hadn't eaten that morning, but hey, the scales don't lie. Truth be told, I felt pretty pleased.
I was still feeling pleased lying on the beach in my duffle coat and balaclava, trying not to pass out from heat exhaustion, when I started thinking about this blog and my aim to push my boundaries and become more spontaneous. This was an opportunity for a challenge, to get my body out on the beach...
...all of it.
Brighton very famously has a nudist beach. I've barely ever taken my shirt off, let alone exposed the Fordham heirlooms to the world. Iain and I were chatting about this in Barcelona earlier this year when we inadvertently stumbled across their nudist beach. We were terribly British about it, becoming quite flustered when we realised we were surrounded by nakedness, uncertain of quite where to look (I soon worked out exactly where to look! Ahem). When Iain asked if I'd ever got my kit off in public, he may well have asked me whether I'd ever married a goat; such was the look of horror and bewilderment that crossed my face. But, this was my moment to conquer another fear. Would I have balls (?!) to do so.
It would help, of course, if the nudist beach wasn't in Cornwall. It certainly felt that way as I walked the 811 miles to find it. When I did so, I was expecting a large fenced-off area with the only thing visible being several volleyball nets (what is it about nudists and volleyball?). Instead, I only realised I'd found it when the average age of the clientele on the beach suddenly up and the number of brightly coloured items of clothing fell through the floor. With growing trepidation (and no, that's not a euphemism) I selected a spot near the water (for emergency evacuation, you understand) and began to disrobe. Seconds later there I was in broad daylight, surrounded by lots of people, as naked as the day I was born. And nobody batted an eyelid. To be honest I wasn't exactly expecting Len Goodman and the rest of the Strictly judges to pop up to give me marks out of ten, but it was all so boringly bland that it made me realise once again how so many hang ups that we allow to drive us, our only in our heads and, ultimately, totally in our control.
Now, I should warn anyone thinking of trying this, that you should only do so in controlled naturist environments. Abandoning your clothing in the middle of the Bentalls Shopping Centre frankly isn't on.
...I should also advise you that if you ever go naked on a beach, to ensure you apply sun cream to all areas. To my cost, I realised later that day that I'd missed a rather large patch on my left buttock, which three days on is still giving me some issues.
Would I do it again? Who knows? I didn't really get the sense of freedom and 'at one-ness' with nature' that people bang on about and, I'd imagine, on a sandy beach (for Brighton's is pebbly) you'd be picking grains out of all sorts of places for days, but right now I'm not ruling anything out.
Until next time...
Now before I begin, I need to make an announcement:
'THIS POST CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF A GRAPHIC NATURE. ANYONE OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION SHOULD LOOK AWAY NOW'
This week, I've been on my holibobs. But due to potential flat-buying situation - and the cost of all this travel you've recommended - I'm having a stay-cation (get me with the lingo!) So, the plan was to have some lovely, cheap days out with a bit of Carpe Diem thrown in, to keep my 'challengeing year' going.
With Sunday being such a scorcher and Monday promising to be even hotter, I decided to pack my bucket and spade and head to Brighton. The last time I went was c.12 years ago when Iain lived down there. That night turned out to be a spectacularly unsuccessful pulling night, when early in the evening, I bit a huge chunk out of my tongue and spent the rest of the evening with loo paper round my mouth trying to stem the flow of blood.
Brighton is a charming place. The Lanes (a section of small, mazy...erm...lanes) is full of charming, independent shops and cafes. The people seem ridiculously chilled-out and happy and it's become super-trendy, often now referred to as London-on-Sea. So, off I popped on Monday morning, armed with a couple of paperbacks and my Ipod ready for a relaxing day.
I had an awesome day, mooching around, drinking coffee, trying not to buy all sorts of interesting stuff (was very disciplined) and chilling out on the beach.
You may remember that the inspiration for this year was the Baz Luhrmann song 'Everybody's free to wear Sunscreen' You do? Good! I should add at this point that I slapped the Factor 30 on all day. In my opening post I mentioned the fact that, like a true Brit, I'm incredibly body conscious. Yes, my face and hands resemble both Des O'Connor and a leather handbag, but my body is practically vampirish, having not seen the sun since 1962. In short, I've never been at all comfortable with getting my flabby bits out in public.
I tend to try to keep myself fit, but a combination of bad food choices; bad drink choices and a lack of portion control have taken their toll over the years. However, I've been making conscious efforts to try to resolve this - well, certainly on the food front, if not the alcohol. As a result, on Monday morning, for the first time in ten years, I got on the scales and was greeted with a sub-10 stone clocking. Granted, I had just been on the treadmill for an hour, so was ridiculously dehydrated and hadn't eaten that morning, but hey, the scales don't lie. Truth be told, I felt pretty pleased.
I was still feeling pleased lying on the beach in my duffle coat and balaclava, trying not to pass out from heat exhaustion, when I started thinking about this blog and my aim to push my boundaries and become more spontaneous. This was an opportunity for a challenge, to get my body out on the beach...
...all of it.
Brighton very famously has a nudist beach. I've barely ever taken my shirt off, let alone exposed the Fordham heirlooms to the world. Iain and I were chatting about this in Barcelona earlier this year when we inadvertently stumbled across their nudist beach. We were terribly British about it, becoming quite flustered when we realised we were surrounded by nakedness, uncertain of quite where to look (I soon worked out exactly where to look! Ahem). When Iain asked if I'd ever got my kit off in public, he may well have asked me whether I'd ever married a goat; such was the look of horror and bewilderment that crossed my face. But, this was my moment to conquer another fear. Would I have balls (?!) to do so.
It would help, of course, if the nudist beach wasn't in Cornwall. It certainly felt that way as I walked the 811 miles to find it. When I did so, I was expecting a large fenced-off area with the only thing visible being several volleyball nets (what is it about nudists and volleyball?). Instead, I only realised I'd found it when the average age of the clientele on the beach suddenly up and the number of brightly coloured items of clothing fell through the floor. With growing trepidation (and no, that's not a euphemism) I selected a spot near the water (for emergency evacuation, you understand) and began to disrobe. Seconds later there I was in broad daylight, surrounded by lots of people, as naked as the day I was born. And nobody batted an eyelid. To be honest I wasn't exactly expecting Len Goodman and the rest of the Strictly judges to pop up to give me marks out of ten, but it was all so boringly bland that it made me realise once again how so many hang ups that we allow to drive us, our only in our heads and, ultimately, totally in our control.
Now, I should warn anyone thinking of trying this, that you should only do so in controlled naturist environments. Abandoning your clothing in the middle of the Bentalls Shopping Centre frankly isn't on.
...I should also advise you that if you ever go naked on a beach, to ensure you apply sun cream to all areas. To my cost, I realised later that day that I'd missed a rather large patch on my left buttock, which three days on is still giving me some issues.
Would I do it again? Who knows? I didn't really get the sense of freedom and 'at one-ness' with nature' that people bang on about and, I'd imagine, on a sandy beach (for Brighton's is pebbly) you'd be picking grains out of all sorts of places for days, but right now I'm not ruling anything out.
Until next time...
Sunday, 26 June 2011
Day 42 (26 June 2011) - Confidence is a preference of the habitual voyeur
...of what is known as 'parklife'...apparently. Always loved bouncing around to that song at univeristy, but never had a ruddy clue what 'parklife' was.
Anyway, greetings. I'm aware it's been one whole week since the last post - the longest gap between posts yet. Does this mean that enthusiasm is fading? Am I slipping back into my old comfortable, but quite apathetic ways?
NO it Bo Diddly doesn't. For I have been beavering away like one of those beaver-type things working, socialising and generally keeping busier that a particularly buzzy bee who's just been told that the honey quota is way down.
When I started this blog, I said that the purpose of asking my nearest and dearest to set me tasks was to ensure I made the most of the endless world of opportunity that lay in front of me. That much was certainly true, but if I'm honest - and we're 42 days in now, so we're practically family - it was as much about feeling totally lost and bereft of much in the way of self-confidence as it was about the opportunities. Guess they're two sides of the same coin. The start of this journey (Simon Cowell would be so proud) wasn't the happiest time of my life, so having things to aim for was a way of ensuring I didn't allow myself to spiral down into a world of 'poor me'...and I knew I could count on you to help avoid that. And what a job you've done! In addition to my many exciting challenges, I've never been so popular - I think I've had the two nights in over the last month! My liver isn't exactly overjoyed with this turn of events and, granted, I do now look 87, however I am having sooooo much fun. Now whether it's seeing so many of my amezzin friends, the improved weather or simply planetary alignment who knows, but at the moment I feel on top of the world. Confident? I'm bordering on cocky. It's amazing how things can turn round so quickly, but right now life is marvellous...in fact (and I feel terribly guilty saying this) but I can't remember feeling this happy for ages. You did that you very special bunch of people (I hate to single out people, but special shout outs to the Sisters Nott, Mr Heywood, Mr Barron, Ms Ewart and Mr Way who have been more helpful than you will ever know). Ohh, it's turned into an Oscar speech. Marvellous!
All of this is, of course, by way of another excuse for lack of progress on challenges. I've wheeled out a good few over the past 42 days, but being able to say that I've just been out having too much fun and living life to the full is one I'm particularly proud of. However, I have a week off work this week, so progress will be forthcoming...promise...and if it isn't, please berate me accordingly.
Anyway, greetings. I'm aware it's been one whole week since the last post - the longest gap between posts yet. Does this mean that enthusiasm is fading? Am I slipping back into my old comfortable, but quite apathetic ways?
NO it Bo Diddly doesn't. For I have been beavering away like one of those beaver-type things working, socialising and generally keeping busier that a particularly buzzy bee who's just been told that the honey quota is way down.
When I started this blog, I said that the purpose of asking my nearest and dearest to set me tasks was to ensure I made the most of the endless world of opportunity that lay in front of me. That much was certainly true, but if I'm honest - and we're 42 days in now, so we're practically family - it was as much about feeling totally lost and bereft of much in the way of self-confidence as it was about the opportunities. Guess they're two sides of the same coin. The start of this journey (Simon Cowell would be so proud) wasn't the happiest time of my life, so having things to aim for was a way of ensuring I didn't allow myself to spiral down into a world of 'poor me'...and I knew I could count on you to help avoid that. And what a job you've done! In addition to my many exciting challenges, I've never been so popular - I think I've had the two nights in over the last month! My liver isn't exactly overjoyed with this turn of events and, granted, I do now look 87, however I am having sooooo much fun. Now whether it's seeing so many of my amezzin friends, the improved weather or simply planetary alignment who knows, but at the moment I feel on top of the world. Confident? I'm bordering on cocky. It's amazing how things can turn round so quickly, but right now life is marvellous...in fact (and I feel terribly guilty saying this) but I can't remember feeling this happy for ages. You did that you very special bunch of people (I hate to single out people, but special shout outs to the Sisters Nott, Mr Heywood, Mr Barron, Ms Ewart and Mr Way who have been more helpful than you will ever know). Ohh, it's turned into an Oscar speech. Marvellous!
All of this is, of course, by way of another excuse for lack of progress on challenges. I've wheeled out a good few over the past 42 days, but being able to say that I've just been out having too much fun and living life to the full is one I'm particularly proud of. However, I have a week off work this week, so progress will be forthcoming...promise...and if it isn't, please berate me accordingly.
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Day 35 (19 June 2011) - 'Flash a-ha...
...he'll save everyone of us'
'GORDON'S ALIVE?'
Yes, following some really rather heavy, deep and downright tedious posts (I've clearly watched way too much Jerry Springer in my life), I thought I'd take time out of the challenge theme and present the first in what might be a series, if I can be bothered, of homages to some of my favourite celebs.
Those who know me well will know that I'm a very keen celeb spotter - one of the many advantages of living in London is the sheer plethora of celebs ranging from A-list all the way down to Richard Blackwood. And I'm pretty darn good at it too - not quite in the Katie Walker league, but none too shabby. Whilst it's always very exciting indeed to see a top-notch celeb, of the Hollywood variety, I find it equally, nay, more exciting to see spot some more home-spun, less affected celebs. I remember Jam calling me once from the Ivy to say he was sitting near Hugh Grant (bothered), Gail from Coronation Street (v excited about this one...did you know that in real life she doens't have any children?!) and Su Pollard! Su Bloody Pollard - now that's my sort of celebrity.
So, today's post is a very brief homage to the great actor of stage and screen, Mr Brian Blessed. I say, great actor of stage and screen, however besides the might Flash Gordon, does anyone know of anything Brian Blessed has been in? Not that it matters of course, for his performance in Flash Gordon, as the bizarrely winged 'Prince Vultan'. Look here he is:
But of course, he's most famous for his big booming voice, which he now utilises to great effect in various voiceovers, but which he employed in Flash Gordon most splendidly, and most notably in the unforgettable line 'DIIIIIIIIIIIIVE' when he was ordering his hawkmen to attack. If you've never heard it, it is a joy to behold, so I thoroughly recommend a spot of You Tubing to hear it for yourself. Actually, no, in the spirit of cooperation, let me provide you with the link here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxaVxF1D0XM
Brian Blessed in Flash Gordon is one of those limited number of impressions that all men hold in their repertoire (along with Bruce Forsyth and Sean Connery). Personally, I often randomly and in quite inappropriate places, find myself uttering the word 'DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE' just for the japes. Such an occasion occurred on Thursday. I can think of no trigger which led to this, just the sudden urge, whilst sitting at my desk reading a tedious contract, to throw in a quick Brian Blessed impression. So enjoyable was it, that I took the decision to declare Friday 'International Talk Like Brian Blessed Day', something I announced on both facebook and twitter. And what a day we had in the Macmillan office. My wonderful team embraced this celebration from the off and big booming requests for coffee and tea could be heard resounding round the office. One member of my team now appears to be stuck permanently and can't seem to be able to speak normally anymore. All in all it was a marvellous day, although we learnt that there are many situations, particularly sensitive ones, where speaking in a Brian Blessed voice is less than appropriate - bu hey, every day's a learning day.
And if you can't get enough of Big Brian's Big Boom, you can now get a Tom Tom satnav featuring The Blessed's voice - how cool is that 'TURN LEFT IMPETUOUS BOY'
Brian Blessed, star of Flash Gordon and...erm....erm...probably lots of other things, we salute you.
'GORDON'S ALIVE?'
Yes, following some really rather heavy, deep and downright tedious posts (I've clearly watched way too much Jerry Springer in my life), I thought I'd take time out of the challenge theme and present the first in what might be a series, if I can be bothered, of homages to some of my favourite celebs.
Those who know me well will know that I'm a very keen celeb spotter - one of the many advantages of living in London is the sheer plethora of celebs ranging from A-list all the way down to Richard Blackwood. And I'm pretty darn good at it too - not quite in the Katie Walker league, but none too shabby. Whilst it's always very exciting indeed to see a top-notch celeb, of the Hollywood variety, I find it equally, nay, more exciting to see spot some more home-spun, less affected celebs. I remember Jam calling me once from the Ivy to say he was sitting near Hugh Grant (bothered), Gail from Coronation Street (v excited about this one...did you know that in real life she doens't have any children?!) and Su Pollard! Su Bloody Pollard - now that's my sort of celebrity.
So, today's post is a very brief homage to the great actor of stage and screen, Mr Brian Blessed. I say, great actor of stage and screen, however besides the might Flash Gordon, does anyone know of anything Brian Blessed has been in? Not that it matters of course, for his performance in Flash Gordon, as the bizarrely winged 'Prince Vultan'. Look here he is:
But of course, he's most famous for his big booming voice, which he now utilises to great effect in various voiceovers, but which he employed in Flash Gordon most splendidly, and most notably in the unforgettable line 'DIIIIIIIIIIIIVE' when he was ordering his hawkmen to attack. If you've never heard it, it is a joy to behold, so I thoroughly recommend a spot of You Tubing to hear it for yourself. Actually, no, in the spirit of cooperation, let me provide you with the link here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxaVxF1D0XM
Brian Blessed in Flash Gordon is one of those limited number of impressions that all men hold in their repertoire (along with Bruce Forsyth and Sean Connery). Personally, I often randomly and in quite inappropriate places, find myself uttering the word 'DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE' just for the japes. Such an occasion occurred on Thursday. I can think of no trigger which led to this, just the sudden urge, whilst sitting at my desk reading a tedious contract, to throw in a quick Brian Blessed impression. So enjoyable was it, that I took the decision to declare Friday 'International Talk Like Brian Blessed Day', something I announced on both facebook and twitter. And what a day we had in the Macmillan office. My wonderful team embraced this celebration from the off and big booming requests for coffee and tea could be heard resounding round the office. One member of my team now appears to be stuck permanently and can't seem to be able to speak normally anymore. All in all it was a marvellous day, although we learnt that there are many situations, particularly sensitive ones, where speaking in a Brian Blessed voice is less than appropriate - bu hey, every day's a learning day.
And if you can't get enough of Big Brian's Big Boom, you can now get a Tom Tom satnav featuring The Blessed's voice - how cool is that 'TURN LEFT IMPETUOUS BOY'
Brian Blessed, star of Flash Gordon and...erm....erm...probably lots of other things, we salute you.
Saturday, 18 June 2011
Day 34 (18 June 2011) - 'I'm going Deeper Underground'
...'there's too much panic in this town'
Yes, on Day 34, I've decided to become a Tube Driver. The short hours, lots of holiday, regular strikes, what's not to like? Only kidding; but whilst I'm not really going underground, I have spent much of this week going 'Deep' - behave at the back (I'm doing that Frankie Howerd thing again, aren't I?).
As those who know me well will know, I'm prone to biiiiig bouts of introspection and procrastination. These tend to involve long periods of silence (which, in my case normally equates to about 7 minutes), much brow furrowing (and you thought I was passing wind) and some sort of proclamation at the end that something is a little bit rubbish. Fortunately, I'm surrounded my people who usually respond with comments such as 'grow a set', 'so do something about it', or 'yes and that's life - think on!' This week I got to indulge myself even further as my wonderful, amazing boss (that's not supposed to sound sarcastic, he really is a truly amazing bloke), sent me on a two day 'Personal Mastery' course.
I had no idea what this course was going to be about, but figured it was two days out of the office - much needed at the moment - and there was bound to be some cake involved somewhere along the way. However, it turned out to be two days totally attuned to my quest to discover more drive, to achieve more and generally find some sense of purpose. Some of this was mentioned in my last post , notably the stuff around 'Choice'. For those who weren't paying attention, here's a breif summary: whilst you can't always control what life throws at you, it is your decision how you respond to each situation. There's nothing wrong with being 'humf-y', throwing your toys out of the pram or generally saying 'this is shit'...however if you choose to adopt any of these positions, you have made a conscious choice to do so. This sounds pretty basic stuff and, indeed, when I've excitedly shared this with friends this week, they've looked at me like I'm bonkers as though I've just told them that 2+2 = 4 or that day follows night, but I'd really looked at life that way and doing so it amazingly empowering.
Much of the course focused on three questions:
Still with me? Wouldn't blame if you weren't as it's all very serious for a blog. However, the point is that I listened to all of this and there was a sudden 'BINGO' moment. I sat there thinking 'but this is my life you're describing', 'this is what's happened to me' and I realised that by setting challenges and tasks, I'm trying to find out who I am. In addition, my asking friends and colleagues to set them for me, it wasn't me being lazy (although I'm sure there's a bit of that in there somewhere) it was actually an unconscious realisation that I don't really know who I am and without a significant other to guide me along I'm a bit lost. But that's OK, cos so are millions of other people - and if you're one of those, why not try answering the ten questions above for yourself. If you find this easy, good for you, you well-rounded, centred person; if you can't, well, it's time to do so - sooo much fun awaits.
What have I done about all of this? Aside, from a lot of lists, some mind-maps (get me, eh) and a lot of positive thinking, I've reached the following conclusions:
If this was all a little too deep for you, have no fear, I can exclusively reveal that the next post will include an homage to Brian Blessed.
Yes, on Day 34, I've decided to become a Tube Driver. The short hours, lots of holiday, regular strikes, what's not to like? Only kidding; but whilst I'm not really going underground, I have spent much of this week going 'Deep' - behave at the back (I'm doing that Frankie Howerd thing again, aren't I?).
As those who know me well will know, I'm prone to biiiiig bouts of introspection and procrastination. These tend to involve long periods of silence (which, in my case normally equates to about 7 minutes), much brow furrowing (and you thought I was passing wind) and some sort of proclamation at the end that something is a little bit rubbish. Fortunately, I'm surrounded my people who usually respond with comments such as 'grow a set', 'so do something about it', or 'yes and that's life - think on!' This week I got to indulge myself even further as my wonderful, amazing boss (that's not supposed to sound sarcastic, he really is a truly amazing bloke), sent me on a two day 'Personal Mastery' course.
I had no idea what this course was going to be about, but figured it was two days out of the office - much needed at the moment - and there was bound to be some cake involved somewhere along the way. However, it turned out to be two days totally attuned to my quest to discover more drive, to achieve more and generally find some sense of purpose. Some of this was mentioned in my last post , notably the stuff around 'Choice'. For those who weren't paying attention, here's a breif summary: whilst you can't always control what life throws at you, it is your decision how you respond to each situation. There's nothing wrong with being 'humf-y', throwing your toys out of the pram or generally saying 'this is shit'...however if you choose to adopt any of these positions, you have made a conscious choice to do so. This sounds pretty basic stuff and, indeed, when I've excitedly shared this with friends this week, they've looked at me like I'm bonkers as though I've just told them that 2+2 = 4 or that day follows night, but I'd really looked at life that way and doing so it amazingly empowering.
Much of the course focused on three questions:
- Who am I?
- Why am I?
- What will I spend my life on?
- What are my underlying personality traits. What are the strengths and limitations of these?
- What are my natural (not learned) talents and strengths?
- What beliefs to I hold about myself which limit me. Which ones empower me?
- What can I change about myself. What do I need to accept?
- What am I passionate about. What do I value above all?
- How have I allowed my origins, my environment, my relationships and my experiences to shape my beliefs of who I am?
- How easily do I recognise my 'response-ability' i.e. my choice to respond to situations. How often do I consciously use this?
- What opportunities do I have to shape a different future if I used my 'choice-muscle' more readily?
- What drives me, fundamentally?
- What beliefs about human origin and destiny satisfy me?
Still with me? Wouldn't blame if you weren't as it's all very serious for a blog. However, the point is that I listened to all of this and there was a sudden 'BINGO' moment. I sat there thinking 'but this is my life you're describing', 'this is what's happened to me' and I realised that by setting challenges and tasks, I'm trying to find out who I am. In addition, my asking friends and colleagues to set them for me, it wasn't me being lazy (although I'm sure there's a bit of that in there somewhere) it was actually an unconscious realisation that I don't really know who I am and without a significant other to guide me along I'm a bit lost. But that's OK, cos so are millions of other people - and if you're one of those, why not try answering the ten questions above for yourself. If you find this easy, good for you, you well-rounded, centred person; if you can't, well, it's time to do so - sooo much fun awaits.
What have I done about all of this? Aside, from a lot of lists, some mind-maps (get me, eh) and a lot of positive thinking, I've reached the following conclusions:
- I'm a bit lost
- As a result of Number 1, I am susceptible to allowing external forces (work, significant others) to define who I am
- ...which is why I find being single so darned hard cos removing those external forces takes me back to Number 1
- I now have a clear set of questions which I'm going to spend the next twelve months answering
- Your challenges and tasks will enable me to do this - thank you
- I'm going to have lots and lots of fun
- I shall come out of this with a clearer sense of identity
- ...a renewed sense of purpose
- ...and some clear directions for the rest of my days
- if, along the way, someone wants to accompany me on this journey, that's fine too; but is no longer essential.
If this was all a little too deep for you, have no fear, I can exclusively reveal that the next post will include an homage to Brian Blessed.
Tuesday, 14 June 2011
Day 30 (14 June 2011) - 'Golden oldies, rolling stones...'
...we don't want them back. I'd rather jack, than Fleetwood Mac'
...although quite who Jack is or how he feels about the Reynolds Girls being after him, is anyone's guess.
Well, I knew that quoting the Morrissette on a blog was dangerous, but I didn't expect anyone to read it, let alone to contact me to check I was OK! Apologies for all the melodrama - everything is genuinely dandy and on the up, regardless of how yesterday's post may have seemed. Yes, things have been a wee bit rubbish in recent days and I could feel myself going round in circles unable to quite shake off the negative feelings, so I thought a bit of outward expression would help - and it did. I thought long and hard yesterday about posting when I was feeling so damned angry, but I want this blog to have some element of authenticity and an honesty - and I want to be able to look back in years to come and see how far I've come and how much I've achieved.
The good news is the e-exorcism worked. For today I woke up today with a renewed vigour to crack on with my challenges and to tackle life generally. Today people, I feel like a giant (any height-related jokes quite unnecessary, thank you!). This has been somewhat helped by the fact I've spent today on a 'Personal Mastery' course which my boss booked me on at the last-minute. As with all training courses, I thought 'oh well, at least it will be a free lunch', but this has genuinely been an inspirational day with much of the learning focused around the simple fact that we all have choices in everything we do. No matter who throws what at you, it is your choice how you choose to respond to that situation. Yesterday I chose to respond to my growing anger by dumping it here - view it as a physical transaction of transferring the negativity from my little ol' head to cyberspace; today I'm choosing to fill the space vacated by Senor Anger with lots of loveliness, including getting back on the task horse. I can't promise there won't be future posts which are not exactly Disney-esque, but I think they'll be few and far between - so no need to start quoting The Cure, Coldplay, James Blunt (is there ever an excuse for quoting James Blunt) - or Fleetwood Mac.
So what loveliness is going on in my noggin? Well, the search for a flat has recommenced and a second viewing on 'the possible' has been booked. I'm desperately trying to get out of working over the next few weekends so I can visit the fab Casleys in Bristol and I've been searching for cheap flights to Lisbon with a view to a visit in September (G - let me know if this works for you). I finally have a contact for the race organisers of the Jordan multi-marathon thing and have had a practice at a dog and a giraffe with the modelling balloons (limited success thus far, but I have burnt a signifcant quantity of calories trying to blow the darn balloons up and then chasing them around the flat when they fly off in various directions. Let's hope Florence is easily pleased). I also managed to enjoy a long sing-a-long soak in the bath without once feeling the need to play some Adele! Blog-ettes, I am back in the race...
...and by way of making up for any moroseness (morosity??) in previous posts, I shall share some of my favourite Les Dawson lines with you. Night night.
...although quite who Jack is or how he feels about the Reynolds Girls being after him, is anyone's guess.
Well, I knew that quoting the Morrissette on a blog was dangerous, but I didn't expect anyone to read it, let alone to contact me to check I was OK! Apologies for all the melodrama - everything is genuinely dandy and on the up, regardless of how yesterday's post may have seemed. Yes, things have been a wee bit rubbish in recent days and I could feel myself going round in circles unable to quite shake off the negative feelings, so I thought a bit of outward expression would help - and it did. I thought long and hard yesterday about posting when I was feeling so damned angry, but I want this blog to have some element of authenticity and an honesty - and I want to be able to look back in years to come and see how far I've come and how much I've achieved.
The good news is the e-exorcism worked. For today I woke up today with a renewed vigour to crack on with my challenges and to tackle life generally. Today people, I feel like a giant (any height-related jokes quite unnecessary, thank you!). This has been somewhat helped by the fact I've spent today on a 'Personal Mastery' course which my boss booked me on at the last-minute. As with all training courses, I thought 'oh well, at least it will be a free lunch', but this has genuinely been an inspirational day with much of the learning focused around the simple fact that we all have choices in everything we do. No matter who throws what at you, it is your choice how you choose to respond to that situation. Yesterday I chose to respond to my growing anger by dumping it here - view it as a physical transaction of transferring the negativity from my little ol' head to cyberspace; today I'm choosing to fill the space vacated by Senor Anger with lots of loveliness, including getting back on the task horse. I can't promise there won't be future posts which are not exactly Disney-esque, but I think they'll be few and far between - so no need to start quoting The Cure, Coldplay, James Blunt (is there ever an excuse for quoting James Blunt) - or Fleetwood Mac.
So what loveliness is going on in my noggin? Well, the search for a flat has recommenced and a second viewing on 'the possible' has been booked. I'm desperately trying to get out of working over the next few weekends so I can visit the fab Casleys in Bristol and I've been searching for cheap flights to Lisbon with a view to a visit in September (G - let me know if this works for you). I finally have a contact for the race organisers of the Jordan multi-marathon thing and have had a practice at a dog and a giraffe with the modelling balloons (limited success thus far, but I have burnt a signifcant quantity of calories trying to blow the darn balloons up and then chasing them around the flat when they fly off in various directions. Let's hope Florence is easily pleased). I also managed to enjoy a long sing-a-long soak in the bath without once feeling the need to play some Adele! Blog-ettes, I am back in the race...
...and by way of making up for any moroseness (morosity??) in previous posts, I shall share some of my favourite Les Dawson lines with you. Night night.
'I can always tell when the mother in law's coming to stay; the mice throw themselves on the traps.'
'I went to my doctor and asked for something for persistent wind. He gave me a kite'.
'I took my mother-in-law to Madame Tussard's Chamber of Horrors, and one of the attendants said, 'Keep her moving sir, we're stock-taking'
“I saw six men kicking and punching the mother-in-law. My neighbour said 'Are you going to help?' I said 'No, Six should be enough.”
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