Highly Strung

I’ve started a new campaign I’ve called it: ‘stop arsing around in the gym and do some actual hard work there for a change’. I think I’ve become complacent – I don’t think 30 minutes of cycling (or more like 20 lately) coupled with a half arsed attempt at weights or abs is going to cut it. To this end I have booked three classes for this week: Body conditioning x 2 and Spin (30 mins).

I did the first Body Conditioning class at lunchtime today – and it was tough. I fear I may be unable to lift my arms past my shoulders tomorrow, which is a concern. It probably didnt help that I chose a dumbbell weighing 3kg instead of 2kg like most of the others had. I realised it was a tad too heavy when I went to put it on the floor after some tricep work and as I put a hand on the floor for support, my arm buckled like it was made of jelly. At that point the instructor yelled – right! pressups! Not quite sure how I managed to do them, but i am sure i didn’t do as many as everyone else – it was murder….

In other news; PMT seems to have put me off balance this week. yesterday I tripped up three times, the most dramatic being when I fell up the stairs on the way to the train platform. I felt a bit stupid on my hands and knees as people flowed around me. Later that day I accidentally burped quite loudly as I bounced down the stairs, not strictly a clumsy thing, just a bit crap. Sadly i had just passed two people on the stairs…. In my defence I had just bolted the rest of an Appletiser..who knew they were so damn gassy?

The cash machines have queues at them before 8am!

On the up side – both bosses conspicuously absent today, I am taking full advantage by wearing my new converse as opposed to changing into actual shoes… what a rebel.

What’s better than a winter morning – a chilly breeze whistling around a barely opened window, a warm duvet and an even warmer body curled around you?

I’m not in love… with my new gym. It’s just not the same as my last one, witness these alarming differences:

• the changing room is cramped and not carpeted
• the towels are too small, they barely cover my arse
• the exercycles have weird tippy forward saddles which make me constantly slip toward the handlebars
• the soap in the showers smells of little bar a faintly medicinal whiff
• the stretching area is tiny

On the upside its only £33 a month and you can’t really complain too much at that price I suppose. I guess the more I go the better value it becomes anyway.

I’m not great at cooking curry – I can generally cobble togther some sort of tomatoey gloop with a yellowy spice to it – so when I saw this spice pack on Cooksister I knew I had to have it.

Not only does it contain one dish worth of the right proportion of spices, it also has the recipe on the back. I can hardly fail to produce the perfect lamb curry.

I ordered two different types from here all for the very reasonable sum of £5.32 inlcuding postage.

I’ll report back after I’ve tried them.

Last night me and the Boyf went to see Jean Luc Picard do Macbeth, unfortunately though, Patrick Stewart has laryngitis and was not there. His understudy was very able, however it’s a bit disappointing to pay £100 to see a big name Shakespearean actor only to be greeted with a cast without a recognisable face among them.

That said, it was very well done and i very much liked the use of AV. The modernisation of the settings was nicely done (wartime Russia I think) and their take on the witches was very clever. They had chosen to portray the witches as 3 old fashiony nurses which was quite effective. Although it was a bit weird when they did a kind of rap song of their dialogue in one scene…Hubble! Bubble! toil and trouble! toil and trouble, toil and trouble!

A new series of posts.

I now work in the city as opposed to the West End and in the three weeks since I started there I have noticed the following things:

1. There is no such thing as ‘up early’ in the city. Even if you arrive in the heart of the city before half seven you will be surrounded by immaculately turned out people who look like they have been up for hours already. Contrast this with my beloved West end; circa 7.30am – as quiet as a graveyard, only a few tramps and a lone fool wending her way to a coffee shop in search of stimulation.
2. The gym is filled with earnest people really working out. Unlike my big friendly west end gym, my small cramped city gym does not have women absently exercycles while reading Now magazine – no. no, no - these people are actually sweating. The fellas all have eye poppingly huge muscles obviously achieved through either hours of hard work or steroids. The women push their way to fitness victory on their steppers and running machines before showering and changing back into their city suits, heels and carefully chosen accessories.
3. Fuzzy Grub is the best food shop in the City. You can tell by the queue out the door and also by the fact that they sell Roast sandwiches eg. Roast chicken, sage and onion stuffing, roast potatoes, roast veg and gravy.
4. Any day is a good day for a celebration. It’s Tuesday lunchtime and I just passed a bar which had 5 guys in the window drinking champagne…oooh the decadence.
5. The cycle couriers are even more aggressive over here, perhaps in keeping with the urgency of the packages they carry.
6. Men’s suit jackets with two splits in the back are not flatteringly – espesh on fat blokes.
7. Marks and Spencers supermarket on Finsbury Square is the mecca of supermarkets, I really can’t pass it without going in, its just stunning.
8. For some reason people walk on the right side of the pavement instead of the left – wtf?
9. You can never have too many cranes in a one mile radius
10. Heels are quite difficult to walk in.

The Boyf and I popped down the shops to get groceries in the weekend. Being a bit green i took the jute bag we had purchased on a whim at M&S the week before. Leaving the veg shop the bag was filled to capacity to the point where a leek was sprouting over the top. Catching sight of himself in a shop window wearing a blazer, jeans and carrying a jute bag full of veg, the Boyf groaned “awww now I really do like look a Muswell Hill Dad, even without that baseball cap”.

The other day I was perusing a fine tome on the lives of celebrities (Star I think) when I happened upon a photo article showing celebrities kissing other celebs on the cheek.. In the photos they were all pressing cheek to cheek but had moved their lips practically off the sides of their faces in order to avoid lip to cheek contact. It got me thinking. I didn’t grow up kissing people’s cheeks, it just wasn’t the done thing where I came from. I’ve therefore had to acquire this skill over the last 13 years of my self imposed exile. Now though I wonder if I have been doing it wrongly for all these years? I have been touching my lips to the cheek of the other person, am I only supposed to touch cheek and then just make a kissy noise in their ear?

Canvassing opinion from the Boyf in the pub last night I find that he is of the opinion that it really depends on who it is. Like if its a very good friend it’s acceptable to touch lips to cheek, but if its an acquaintance, no, no, no …

Maybe all of this is best avoided by employing the method I often employ when greeting people sober; a jolly wave and a cheery hello.

This week I have mostly slept more than 6 hours a night, 4 nights in a row – happy, happy, joy, joy.. Long may it continue.