A Double Week

An evident theme of this blog is the recurring fact that I’m continually shattered. Over the last week, my wife has graduated, my youngest has been christened, one daughter has been in hospital and the other has had a four day fever. Coupled with which, Emma’s parents are with us for the week, so whilst our eldest has been poorly I’ve been sleeping in her (suitable for a four year old, TM) bed, whilst she sleeps in mine.

In other words, I’ve gotten to this weekend on fumes.

Tonight though, South Africa play the Tigers at Welford Road. Clearly Habana, Smit, Botha, Matfied, Steyn et al aren’t playing unfortunately but nevertheless it’s something we’ve looked forward to for months now. So, despite being on my last legs, I’m damn well going.

However, I think that this weekend may well have relatively little in store, in order to find my way back to Monday morning in one piece. It seems like only five minutes ago that I was desperate to get to the weekend to expend my energy, now it’s a basic pre-requisite in order to re-charge my batteries.

Rest? Easy…

I’ve had back problems for about the last month or so now and I’ve got to say that it’s really starting to get on my nerves (ahem).

Not entirely sure what caused it but it’s coincided with a pretty heavy stint in the gym which seems to have fooled me into thinking that I could carry not only my four year old but another at the same time, over a lumpy field, in the dark at a party a few weeks back.

Suffice to say that my osteopath found one hip to be almost two inches higher than the other and also twisted forwards.

The strange thing is that I wouldn’t describe it as pain exactly, more just grief. It’s a kind of dull ache that hasn’t been far away since it first happened and when I’m in the gym or carrying anything it gets worse.

Having been to see the osteopath for the second time today, I’m assured that it’s a niggle which should settle down ‘with rest’ – and therein lies the problem. I know it’s ridiculous when health is concerned – but I’m genuinely not sure that my life is compatible with ‘rest’ for the time being.

Cabs vs Tube

I’ve never been one for taking cabs when I can catch the tubes but in the last few weeks I seem to be jumping from one meeting to the next, both for timekeeping reasons and to keep on top of things inbetween meetings.

Despite being busy enough to warrant this it still feels hugely indulgent and more than a little bit weird.

I guess my ration gene must have kicked in but to be honest, even though it’s clearly not the cheapest option, I’m loving the addiiomal productivity and lack of wear and tear on walking up and down escalators…

The Verdict

We headed to Welford Road for the first Tigers home match of the season yesterday – and the first with the new stand.

Although the designers have gone for an unashamed grey breeze block motif throughout – which seems unavoidable with modern stadia, presumably for financial reasons – the set up and facilities are undeniably a huge improvement.

The new stand is triple the capacity of it’s predecessor and, although I definitely wouldn’t want to be at the back – which looks like both binoculars and an independent air tank may be required to last the course – we’re about twenty rows back and so have the benefit of the improved view (no pillars) coupled with the familiarity presented by the other three stands. In other words, it feels the same but better from where we sit.

Managing the flow of fans after the game was clearly a central concern for the developers. My concerns on this score were completely unfounded as a mystifying sequence of doors on the way in became a clever one-way exit system on departure, so getting out actually took just a couple of minutes.

The game itself was frankly pretty dull. We won – but still have scored no tries in three games, which is something that needs to change rapidly if we’re to have anything approaching a decent season.

Still, I’m delighted with my four seats – six including my parents’ two – and am very much looking forward to many years of fun ahead in the company of my friends, family and particularly my three girls.

Noise Pollution

Our eldest daughter’s starting school next Monday and, to make the best of her last few pre-school days, Emma decided to take the girls away for a few days to a cottage in Suffolk. Normally, wild horses couldn’t keep me away but having just taken a fair bit of holiday it just wasn’t practical or possible for me to go. So, this week I’ve been at home for several days without the girls, which has also coincided with a few days of me being slightly unwell, meaning that I’ve literally been at home, rattling about the house all day and night.

Normally, work keeps me occupied for every waking moment outside family life – but for the first time in a while I haven’t actually worked literally around the clock, stopping at 6pm or 7pm most days to do something else, for a few hours at least, before bed.

Although I’m surrounded by books that I’ve been meaning to read for ages and films to watch, I’m just out of the habit of doing something quiet and for myself. I’m driving to see the girls later this evening – just so we’re together for a day or so earlier than we would otherwise be – and one thing’s for sure: I can’t wait to be surrounded by the general chatter and nonsense of family again as quickly as possible.

10 Years On

Last Friday I left London early and jumped on the train to head to Borth in West Wales for a couple of days with my family, who were there already. Although it was a five hour mission across the country, it was well worth it, not least for the day of seaside sunshine I was greeted with on Saturday, which was followed on Sunday by a couple of hours surfing, with my Dad, which was most definitely good for the soul. Actually, the heavens opened when we were in the sea but as anyone that has surfed in the rain will know, it’s actually one of the few times when being caught out is undeniably enjoyable – although it’s hard to tell exactly why (possibly something to do with it clearing out the beach?).

This week, it’s my tenth (!) wedding anniversary, so my wife’s parents are coming down to look after our girls and we’re leaving them both for the first time for 48 hours to head to Paris, for what I’m sure will be a sleep-fest. Grand plans of dining, drinking and late-night venues have been discussed but I’m pretty confident that we’re both going to be in shock to such an extent that we’ll crash out.

Still, it’s just the two of us, in Paris – and that’s pretty cool.

The Art of Punching (Something)

My eight week exploration of whether I can find time to crowbar a visit to the gym into my life every other day seems to be going better than expected. I’ve been seeing a personal trainer for most of my visits, which is a fairly huge extravagance for me – but about the only personal one that I can think of at present.

In going to see a trainer, I’ve given myself up completely to the process and therefore find my gym-time varying between pilates at one extreme and bare-foot kickboxing at another. So, in the last few weeks I’ve rediscovered what it feels like to punch something (and actually discovered what it feels like to kick/knee/elbow something), which is most odd. Aside from one mid-twenties incident which resulted in a broken knuckle through a bad tempered altercation with a wall, the last time that I threw a punch was in my early teens – and frankly I don’t think that really counts.

Today, for example, I was offered the opportunity to spend thirty of my sixty minutes throwing combinations at my trainer, albeit with pads on. Last week however, it was without pads – presumably my best attempts being so feeble that they posed no actual threat to him, which was both concerning and irritating. It being so alien to me, I suspect that he knew there was no way I’d be able to transfer belting a bag/his pads to actually trying to land punches on his person, despite his best efforts to goad me into it. Having overcome my initial reticence though, I pretty quickly took to the whole idea with passion and enthusiasm, despite thinking of myself as a fairly gentle soul most of the time.

At least he felt the need to keep the pads on today, so something must be improving. It might just be my self-esteem.

Caffeine & A Very Long Week

Lots has been made of Google’s new algorithm Caffeine this week, with the forthcoming changes making ripples to the online search community to the forthcoming changes (which can be trialled). I picked up on an interesting piece from a blog yesterday in which we were mentioned, commented and only later realised that it was Australian.

It’s been a killer week – on the plus side, it’s been hugely positive, several new business conversations have been initiated and a couple of new relationships kicked off. I’ve not actually counted but it’s been at least a 60 hour special and possibly even 75+. So, it’s Friday night and I find myself going home to see if I can set a new record for hours slept through continuously…

A Transatlantic Cultural Dichotomy

So, I’ve finally lasted out my Vodafone contract and have made the switch over to 02, a move which I assume many continue to make despite Vodafone’s best yet failing efforts to the contrary, simply on the basis of demand for the iPhone. Despite the fact that it clearly looks beautiful and I’m pretty keen to put the abuse I’ve had from certain clients in particular about my clunky Nokia E61i behind me, I’ve run both phones in tandem for a week or so, to ensure that I can go back to old faithful if needs be.

In other words, despite clearly wanting to have one for some time, I’ve tried to remain as aloof and objective as possible once the initial product lust has been slaked, to try and make a decision based on functionality not hype.

Consequently, aside from a worse-than-expected battery life which does concern me given the 18 month contract, I’m actually really pleased with it. Typing remains something of a challenge – I guess I’ve mastered typing on the Nokia that I’ve had for several years as it has raised keys and the touch-screen seems to be slowing things done considerably – but I assume that’s just going to improve with increased usage.

Interestingly, I’ve had several conversations with friends, contacts and clients recently about whether to buy an iPhone case and seem to have stumbled upon an apparently hitherto unnoticed source of transatlantic disagreement. Almost without exception in my experience, the iPhone users that I know in California have theirs loving shielded from the outside world somehow, yet Europeans seem almost enraged at the prospect of covering up their phone. I blithely sent out a tweet which copied across to Facebook and collectively received numerous responses from European friends (UK and Germany) telling me that I was most definitely not to buy a case under any circumstances – and yet recall a recent conversation with a US colleague who couldn’t understand why anyone would want to protect it. Strange. I’m sure there must be a deeper meaning there somewhere.

A Summer First

So, Thursday was a very strange day indeed. A week or so back I was given the opportunity to snap up a couple of last minute hospitality places for the Ashes test matches over the next few weeks and, despite having little or no interest in cricket and literally having never been to a cricket match before in my life, I thought it sounded like a great opportunity to see whether I could say a small thank you to a couple of clients for their ongoing business and support.

So, having booked four places, I took three clients, past and present, to the opening day of the third test at Edgbaston last Thursday.

As should have been expected given the current weather situation, it rained heavily the day before and the ground staff were up all night trying to mop up water from the surface. Despite being tantalising clear and bright en-route to Birmingham, the heavens opened as we arrived at 10:30am and, sure enough, the start was put back, pending the conditions clearing. Consequently, my guests and I headed for the suite we had been allocated and sat down to be offered a bacon sandwich and listen out for updates.

To cut a long story short, play eventually started at 5pm – which, the conspiracy theorists amongst the group alleged would be because 2 hours / 30 overs of play was the minimum required to ensure no refunds were issued and, given the attendance was 22,000 and tickets probably averaged at least £50 a head, I guessed would total about £1.1m for the day.

Whilst we were sat down for long periods I sat on my hands for as long as possible but the two cricket-goers out of the four of us were particularly relaxed about the whole thing, assuring me that this was completely usual and no big deal. For me, I couldn’t get my head around the fact that we had come to watch a sporting event and everyone (predominantly men) sitting around us, were perfectly content to stay put for the duration – just eating and drinking merrily.

Eventually I think the penny dropped and I now equate the whole experience to that of fishing without the proximity to water. The cricket fans amongst us saw the day as a relaxing and social experience where the cricket was integral to but not the sole purpose of the day. I’m sure the quantity and variety of alcohol drunk throughout the day helped enormously but when I eventually saw the light, I must say that I loosened up a great deal.

We did manage to see a couple of hours of cricket fortunately – just one wicket was taken and it is a little frustrating that the first two balls of the second day saw two more fall – so at least I did have a taster.

I’m not sure how keen I’d be if I had sat and watched the whole day of cricket but, as things turned out, I’m considering a couple of tickets for the fourth test at Headingley in a few weeks, to find out one way or another whether I have found actually a new summer sport to break up the months between rugby matches.