Regular readers of my blog will have noticed a certain bored, twiddling of thumbs going on of late. People who have the misfortune to actually speak to me on a daily basis (yes that's you, school mums) will have observed first hand just how listless and moany I become when I've only got one or two things going on in my life.
When I have fifty things that need to be done I seem to be in my element, dashing about here and there, planning, doing, laughing about how mad life is. For a while. Until the novelty of being super-busy wears off and I get a little tired and start wishing for life to quieten down again. Contrary? Moi? How very dare you.
Anyway, the other night I was on my way to Taekwon-Do, all togged up in my gear when suddenly my phone rang. It was the BBC newsdesk asking, ever so nicely, if I could possibly get myself over to Gatwick airport - ASAP - as some of the gas-plant hostages had been released from Algeria and were apparently on-board a secret flight back to the UK.
My heart did a little leap and I got that surge of adrenaline that used to be my drug of choice in the old days when this type of call was the norm. At this point I could have massively flattered myself by thinking they'd called me because of my specialisms in defence and terrorism and they knew what brilliant and incisive questions I'd be able to ask the wretched hostages about their ordeal, putting the whole thing into a global context whilst expanding on the concept of AQIM (Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb). But really I knew that they'd called me because basically there was no-one else and I happen to live about 25 minutes drive from Gatwick. Keep it real.
I hesitated for a nano-second: I was meant to be meeting some girlfriends for a hot-chocolate and a gossip straight after training and it was bloody cold out that night! But Reader, how could I refuse a small taster of my old LBK (life before kids)? So I found myself about 30 minutes later, my 'TV face' on, dressed in 3 layers of thermals, driving to Gatwick all ready for an action-packed night.
Of course it never quite pans out how you think it will. The camera-man and I spent at least 20 minutes driving madly round the Gatwick internal ring-road in a Benny Hill-like sequence trying to evade the cops who'd clocked us acting suspiciously in an effort to locate our satellite truck. They eventually got fed up with tailing us and simply blocked our path with one of their 4x4s, just as I'd spotted the damned satellite truck up ahead.
Needless to say the hostages never arrived, it must have been duff intelligence. We spent most of the night sitting in the Arrivals hall (as if the hostages were going to walk through like tourists and present themselves for interview!) along with Sky, Fox, NBC, ITN etc watching a board that never changed, waiting for the plane that never came.
I managed to persuade the newsdesk to send someone over to replace me at about 5am as I suddenly realised that in my haste to get out of the door I'd completely forgotten to check with Husband what train he had to be on in the morning or whether or not he could do the school run. Oooops. Kids. I have some. Responsibilities. I have lots. Sigh... it can never be truly like the old days....
Thursday 31 January 2013
Tuesday 8 January 2013
Back to Black
Well that's it then. My name is definitely on the list. I'm going to be grading for my black belt in April. Gulp.
Dragging my sorry arse off the sofa to go to my Taekwon-Do class last night was hard. I'd enjoyed rather too much the preceding two weeks of cosy warmth, twinkly Christmas lights and a Sky+ menu of fabulous TV teamed with lovely bottles of Rioja and Merlot and a groaning cheeseboard. Oh how I love to lounge about and stuff my face. Stepping onto the scales on Sunday morning was enough of a motivation for the lounging to cease and the exercise to commence - pronto.
It was a cold, wet and uninviting January night into which I trudged, hat pulled low to keep my ears warm. The training session itself was OK in that I didn't get an overwhelming urge to vomit half way through the warm up unlike last year when I remember having to lie down with my legs in the air to get the blood back to my head and then tripping over someone and spraining my big toe - ouch.
No, last night was all manageable and I very nearly remembered all my patterns. In Taekwon-Do there are nine patterns to learn, each one corresponding with a coloured belt. The patterns are meant to be sort of mock fights where you go through all the moves as if one or two invisible opponents were attacking you. They're all quite different but cunningly some sequences of moves are very similar to others so it's not uncommon to see people (oh ok, me) stood stock still, mid-move realising they they've unwittingly merged two patterns into one and now can't remember what should come next.
Then just when I was thinking "I've survived the dreaded return to training, I'm alive!" my instructor asked if anyone was intending to grade for black belt in April. My hand, seemingly with a life of its own, suddenly and rather precociously, shot up. "Aha", he murmured, jotting something down, "see me after class". I naturally assumed that this would be when he would gently but firmly tell me that perhaps I should wait for the next grading in October, work on my fitness, improve my sparring etc etc, but no.
Dear Reader, imagine my shock when my instructor (have I mentioned what a clever, patient and gifted man he is?) put my name down on the official list and said he was pleased that I was going for it! So there we are. I now have in front of me three months of bloody hard work, mental and physical, and those of you who read my previous post about not being a great sticker at things, well, I'm going to have to see it through now or risk looking like a right loser (note to self: channel La Mandelson "I am not a quitter..blah...blah")
Very soon I'm going to have to face my biggest demon and that is the sparring element of Taekwon-Do. I've had six months off due to the knee operation I had last summer to rid me of the crippling osteo-arthritis I'd developed and I just know it's going to be a massive challenge when I face my first opponent in training. For me it's a psychological barrier rather than a physical one that I have to get over. When you're face to face with someone, trading punches and kicks, it's self-belief and perseverance that counts. Of course fitness and technique play a huge part, but it doesn't matter how great your aerobic capacity, if you don't believe you can win then you won't, simple as that.
It was that rather sobering thought that reverberated as I battled home in the darkness last night. I have to believe that I can and then I will. Simple.....?
Dragging my sorry arse off the sofa to go to my Taekwon-Do class last night was hard. I'd enjoyed rather too much the preceding two weeks of cosy warmth, twinkly Christmas lights and a Sky+ menu of fabulous TV teamed with lovely bottles of Rioja and Merlot and a groaning cheeseboard. Oh how I love to lounge about and stuff my face. Stepping onto the scales on Sunday morning was enough of a motivation for the lounging to cease and the exercise to commence - pronto.
It was a cold, wet and uninviting January night into which I trudged, hat pulled low to keep my ears warm. The training session itself was OK in that I didn't get an overwhelming urge to vomit half way through the warm up unlike last year when I remember having to lie down with my legs in the air to get the blood back to my head and then tripping over someone and spraining my big toe - ouch.
No, last night was all manageable and I very nearly remembered all my patterns. In Taekwon-Do there are nine patterns to learn, each one corresponding with a coloured belt. The patterns are meant to be sort of mock fights where you go through all the moves as if one or two invisible opponents were attacking you. They're all quite different but cunningly some sequences of moves are very similar to others so it's not uncommon to see people (oh ok, me) stood stock still, mid-move realising they they've unwittingly merged two patterns into one and now can't remember what should come next.
Then just when I was thinking "I've survived the dreaded return to training, I'm alive!" my instructor asked if anyone was intending to grade for black belt in April. My hand, seemingly with a life of its own, suddenly and rather precociously, shot up. "Aha", he murmured, jotting something down, "see me after class". I naturally assumed that this would be when he would gently but firmly tell me that perhaps I should wait for the next grading in October, work on my fitness, improve my sparring etc etc, but no.
Dear Reader, imagine my shock when my instructor (have I mentioned what a clever, patient and gifted man he is?) put my name down on the official list and said he was pleased that I was going for it! So there we are. I now have in front of me three months of bloody hard work, mental and physical, and those of you who read my previous post about not being a great sticker at things, well, I'm going to have to see it through now or risk looking like a right loser (note to self: channel La Mandelson "I am not a quitter..blah...blah")
Very soon I'm going to have to face my biggest demon and that is the sparring element of Taekwon-Do. I've had six months off due to the knee operation I had last summer to rid me of the crippling osteo-arthritis I'd developed and I just know it's going to be a massive challenge when I face my first opponent in training. For me it's a psychological barrier rather than a physical one that I have to get over. When you're face to face with someone, trading punches and kicks, it's self-belief and perseverance that counts. Of course fitness and technique play a huge part, but it doesn't matter how great your aerobic capacity, if you don't believe you can win then you won't, simple as that.
It was that rather sobering thought that reverberated as I battled home in the darkness last night. I have to believe that I can and then I will. Simple.....?
Saturday 5 January 2013
Wanna be startin' something
First of all I'd like to wish you a Happy New Year and all that. I hope your dreams came true and your resolutions are holding firm. I'm a big fan of resolutions myself. In fact I'm what you might describe as a 'good starter'.
I'm the annoying one, usually sitting in the front row of say, a language evening class, eagerly lapping up all the knowledge from the tutor. At the beginning of anything I've ever taken up, I zoom ahead of most of the people in the room, pronouncing difficult words with ease, executing promising kicks and twirls in a new martial art. "Yessss! I'm going to be good at this" I say to myself "this is my thing for sure!"
I love that feeling of being on the cusp of something new, be it the determination to shed a few pounds "as from tomorrow breakfast time I am going exert an iron will and eat sensibly, avoid biscuits and definitely book myself into an exercise class every day this week", to the stunning realisation that if I actually forced myself to sit down and knock out a thousand words a day, my novel would in fact, be finished in 3 months - how easy is that! "OK, as from tomorrow, I shall return from the school run and simply sit down and write and I shall not stop until I have reached a thousand words. I shall repeat this process every day until the weekend comes around".
I get a physical thrill down the spine as I say these words to myself, sometimes even pausing to nod and smile confidently at myself in the bathroom mirror. My reflection glows back at me, returning my determination and future happiness without any effort or doubt.
And reader I do start exceptionally well! I can guarantee you that for at least 3 days next week (most possibly Tues - when the kids return to school, till Thurs) I shall be eating most healthily and exercising to the max. And when I am not sweating at the gym, I shall be sitting at my desk, engrossed in my novel, typing like a demon and probably knocking out maybe a thousand and fifteen words, just to prove how keen I am.
But sadly I know what I'm like. I'm not what you might call a natural 'stickler' at things. Reader it's not my fault - I get so bored! Instead of persevering with the aerobics or the writing, I will prefer to be chasing the next big idea in my life instead.
Rather depressingly I just know that a new concept, be it for an article or a business will suddenly ping into my little head and I shall have to abandon whatever it is I am meant to be sticking at to pursue it, just for a while you understand, to see if it has any merit. I shall be momentarily excited, fired up, all guns blazing while I do my research. I may even mention it to a few friends who, being the lovely people that they are, will give me encouraging feedback which will of course make me want to pursue it further.
Gah! By the end of January I'll still be the same weight and needless to say the novel probably won't have reached fifty thousand words. Bugger.
I'm the annoying one, usually sitting in the front row of say, a language evening class, eagerly lapping up all the knowledge from the tutor. At the beginning of anything I've ever taken up, I zoom ahead of most of the people in the room, pronouncing difficult words with ease, executing promising kicks and twirls in a new martial art. "Yessss! I'm going to be good at this" I say to myself "this is my thing for sure!"
I love that feeling of being on the cusp of something new, be it the determination to shed a few pounds "as from tomorrow breakfast time I am going exert an iron will and eat sensibly, avoid biscuits and definitely book myself into an exercise class every day this week", to the stunning realisation that if I actually forced myself to sit down and knock out a thousand words a day, my novel would in fact, be finished in 3 months - how easy is that! "OK, as from tomorrow, I shall return from the school run and simply sit down and write and I shall not stop until I have reached a thousand words. I shall repeat this process every day until the weekend comes around".
I get a physical thrill down the spine as I say these words to myself, sometimes even pausing to nod and smile confidently at myself in the bathroom mirror. My reflection glows back at me, returning my determination and future happiness without any effort or doubt.
And reader I do start exceptionally well! I can guarantee you that for at least 3 days next week (most possibly Tues - when the kids return to school, till Thurs) I shall be eating most healthily and exercising to the max. And when I am not sweating at the gym, I shall be sitting at my desk, engrossed in my novel, typing like a demon and probably knocking out maybe a thousand and fifteen words, just to prove how keen I am.
But sadly I know what I'm like. I'm not what you might call a natural 'stickler' at things. Reader it's not my fault - I get so bored! Instead of persevering with the aerobics or the writing, I will prefer to be chasing the next big idea in my life instead.
Rather depressingly I just know that a new concept, be it for an article or a business will suddenly ping into my little head and I shall have to abandon whatever it is I am meant to be sticking at to pursue it, just for a while you understand, to see if it has any merit. I shall be momentarily excited, fired up, all guns blazing while I do my research. I may even mention it to a few friends who, being the lovely people that they are, will give me encouraging feedback which will of course make me want to pursue it further.
Gah! By the end of January I'll still be the same weight and needless to say the novel probably won't have reached fifty thousand words. Bugger.
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