I’ve won the British Military Fitness caption competition for June, which means I get a month’s free membership!
You can see my winning entry here.
RAF Flypast
I managed to catch the RAF flypast on my phone today at the Stamford Festival:
Video taken from Broad Street.
Halfway up the stairs…
If you’re as old as me (as some people are, surprisingly), you may well remember a song from the Muppet Show that was sung by Kermit’s nephew, Robin, called ‘Halfway Up the Stairs.’ The lyrics went ‘I’m not at the bottom, I’m not at the top. But this is the place where I always stop.’ This, I’ve decided, sums up my life.
Whenever there is something in life in which people can be easily categorised, you can guarantee that I won’t fall into either one. Which always leaves me with a dilemma; usually a difficult choice to make between whether to take action or not – whether to participate, whether to accept an invitation, or whether to take a risk. It drives me mad. I am a paradox personified.
Take skydiving, for example. I know at least 6 or 7 people who have completed a skydive. They all say that it’s the best thing they’ve ever done. Only a couple of them were really nervous about it, because on the whole, they fit the mould for the type of person who goes in for that type of pursuit; activist risk-takers who are always seeking to push the envelope, experience fear as exhilaration, and who love the thrill of it all.
Would I like to do a skydive? Yes, yes and yes again. I can’t think of anything more exciting than flying through the air like a bird, enjoying the magnificent view of patchwork-like fields and clouds far below. Could I ever do one? No, no and no again. Because I experience fear as absolute fear. Not fun-fear, or fear that can be contained – my adrenalin gland seems to have two settings – closed or full-flow-release. There’s nothing in between, and as a consequence, I have the full flight-or-flight experience that terrifies me beyond belief.
A few years ago, I went on a rollercoaster for the first time. Now most people who won’t go on rollercoasters are perfectly happy not to go on them. But I had always wanted to have a go because they seem like such cool, fun things. The only thing that had been stopping me was a head that told my legs on no account should they move into the queue. On the occasion that I overcame this and actually queued up, my friends took great pleasure in observing my face as the colour drained completely away, together with all my saliva and the huge amount of sweat pouring out of my palms.
I’m obviously a natural watcher, not a do-er. Museums were made for people like me – not theme parks. So why is it, then, that I have a constant need to throw myself into uncomfortable situations – or, if i don’t actually go through with it, at least a desire to?
Stand-up comedy is another example. I’m not a naturally outgoing person. My personality type is all wrong to be a comedian. So why do I want to do it? It’s not like I don’t know how difficult it might be, or that the risk of failure is extremely high. Yet still I yearn to do it thinking I might – just might – pull it off. It’s absurd.
Am I trying to be something I’m not? Well possibly. But I can’t find a reason why that should be. Maybe I need to constantly challenge myself, regardless of how uncomfortable the result might be. But I don’t get bored easily. I can find interest where others would be induced to sleep – possibly the result of being an only child.
I should really be grateful that I have this ‘cross-border’ type of personality that allows me occasionally to venture into unknown territory. After all, some people are so restricted by their own boundaries that they won’t ever take a risk; they’ll never leave the country, or try an odd type of food, or take up a new sport or hobby.
What I;m finding at the moment is that I’m itching to try a new experience of some kind, but I don’t know what. It could be something as simple as a new sport, or something completely bizarre. I’d quite like it to have a social element to it. It can’t be too extreme, as my life is stressful enough at the moment, and any more might tip me over the edge (!) but it has to be different enough to be a challenge.
Answers on a postcard, please. Or failing that, just post them here as comments 
Twitter Comedy Night
Tonight saw the first ‘Twitter Comedy Night’, a review of which can be found here.
British Military Fitness
I’ve been doing really well with my exercise regime this year; I’ve been working out 3 times a week with weights – 1 session at Reaction PT, and 2 on the multigym at home – and it’s transformed my upper body into something I can actually be proud of rather than hide under baggy T-shirts. Should have done it years ago.
However, the missing link in my fitness has been the lower half of my body. Andy at Reaction has helped me to bulk up my upper half in the weekly session we have, and my intention was to supplement this with some jogging. It’s been tough to motivate myself to get out there and run, though, simply because I find it such a dull activity.
On Thursday, I saw an article in the Birmingham Mail about ‘British Military Fitness’. They are a national organisation that consists of serving and former forces personnel who run fitness classes in public parks. You may have seen them in cities around the UK – there are 3 groups of trainees – beginners (in blue), intermediate (in red) and the super-fit advanced people in green.
The sessions are around an hour long, and are designed to be challenging but fun. So, I went along to one at Cannon Hill Park this morning at 10am to see how I would get on. (The first session is free so you can see whether it’s for you.)
When I said to a colleague at work that I was going to try British Military Fitness, the response was ‘Are you insane?!’ – but it’s nothing like the horrors that military recruits have to go through. No one shouts at you or humiliates you (I’m pleased to say) – instead, it’s all positive motivation, getting you to push yourself further so you can essentially get a better result from your session.
Now whatever I do never ends up being straightforward, and so was the case this morning. Because I already exercise, I was put into the intermediate group (who wear red bibs). I was a little unsure about this because of my lack of cardiovascular exercise, but went with it. After we’d warmed up by running around, working various body parts etc, we were told that the first series of exercises would involve 15 burpees (which is where you crouch down, do a kind of bunny hop with hands on the floor, then jump up with hands in the air and repeat) then 10 press-ups, followed by 15 burpees, 10 press-ups, and a final 15 burpees before running one circuit around the park, around various huts and trees etc.
Well, I did my best..! I did 15 burpees, 10 press-ups, 15 burpees, another 10 press-ups and then got to about number 6 of the last set of burpees before my legs failed. And that was that. There’s no way I could have done the run – which was very frustrating, as my upper body was coping perfectly. However, the instructors were great and sent me over to the blue group who, I have to say, looked like they were having a lot more fun, and there I stayed for the rest of the session – the sole red in a sea of blues (which prompted a flurry of questions from the others, asking ‘Is it really bad in the reds?’.)
The blue group was definitely challenging (especially having done the first 10 minutes in the red group!) mainly for the work my legs were doing, and also for general cardiovascular fitness. By the end of the session I was suitably knackered (it’s been a hot day too), but feeling great from having pushed myself hard. The exercises had been varied and fun, and the instructors were a good laugh and were clearly enjoying it themselves.
I’ll definitely be going back – it’s pretty cheap at just over £30 a month for as many sessions as you like, although I’m going to stick to one only which will supplement one session at Reaction and one session at home. By the end of each week, I should have worked every muscle group going and be feeling even better than I already do.
If you’re wondering whether to try it, I would say go for the trial session, and don’t worry about it being too much. Everyone gets knackered, and even if you fail an exercise completely, they will make sure you’re OK and let you join in again when you’ve caught your breath. Everyone is really friendly, and there’s no competitiveness at all, just a common goal of getting fit – or fitter in the higher groups.
Also, if you’re in Birmingham, fed up with the gym, and prefer 1-2-1 training and support, you can’t do better than Reaction PT on Smallbrook Queensway. Andy always makes the sessions interesting, will really motivate you and will help you achieve superb results.
Limerick Time
I’ve been writing some stuff for the new CLP and seem to be on a limerick vibe at the moment.
Here are a few recent ones:
There was a young man from Dumfries
Who liked to set fire to his knees
When asked ‘What’s the point?’
He said ‘I like smoking joints.
You won’t tell anyone will you? Please?’
***
I once met the Home Secre-tary
She asked ‘How crap am I? – I said ‘Very.’
‘You leech off our taxes
While your husband ‘relaxes’
With some subscription porn and a sherry.’
***
There once was a man from Skegness
Who liked to play darts in a dress
In a full-length from Haiti
He scored 180
But in a short skirt and heels he scored less.
I’ve Always Wanted to be Michael Aspel…
Surely there can be no greater role model for a youngster than the silver-haired legend that is Michael Aspel? Throughout my early years, labouring under the misapprehension that his first name was ‘Ask’, I watched him chat to A, B and C-rated celebrities, hoping that any one of them might reach the giddy heights of interest set by a drunk Oliver Reed singing ‘Wild One’. Sadly, this was not to be. Nor did he achieve the same longevity in the charity telethon role that has served Wogan and Lenny Henry (”The Lenster”) so well over the years. (Remember ITV’s Telethons? I try not to.)
Anyway, none of this is relevant to the fact that on Sunday, I hosted a live ‘This is Your Life’ right here in Birmingham.
‘This is Your Life’, you’ll no doubt remember, was a programme in which Michael Aspel (and his predecessor, Eamonn Andrews) read out the story of a fascinating life to the person who had the least need of hearing it; the person who actually lived it. The subject would sit there, grimacing awkwardly as the PE teacher they hoped they’d never see again was wheeled out from behind a screen to recount the hilarious tale of the day they forgot their kit and had to run round the school field wearing nothing but a vest and a smile.
The event I hosted was a 50th birthday party. It was quite a big deal for me; even though I train, I only usually have to face a room of up to 20-25 people. At the party, there were 150. I also had the added challenge of pronouncing – with the correct accent – Indian names, including the pet names used by family members towards each other. I also had to introduce changes in tone (between happy and sad events), and introduce a series of dance acts.
This was great practice for me, as if you’re a regular reader of this blog, you’ll know that I have a long-term ambition to perform comedy of some kind. This event was the perfect confidence builder. With a script I could wander from and ad-lib if needed (but which provided some much-needed insurance against forgetting what was to be said) as well as a venue comparable in size to any I would encounter as a performer, I was really looking forward to it. I was also very nervous.
The outcome? I loved it. Making an audience laugh was the biggest buzz. I was lucky in that this being a big family party, they were on my side from the start (no heckling here!) but that said, it was still a big deal for me. The feedback since has been nothing but positive, and I can’t wait to do something like it again.
A video exists, so if and when I manage to get hold of a copy, I will put a clip up here.
Line of the Week
This orange-juice-snorted-up-my-nose line was said by Jay’s dad in the last ‘Inbetweeners’ of the series:
“Women are like fairground rides: fucking mental!”
