2013 - that was the year that was

So we're fast approaching the end of another year. 2013 has been an eventful one. We've lost some of the world's most iconic historical figures in Thatcher and Mandela, a Brit finally won at Wimbledon and Wolves sunk to new depths with a second consecutive relegation.

But for me 2013, without sounding too X Factor-like, has been a journey. I've clocked up thousands of air miles, scored at Molineux, went to Wembley, took a dance class and survived the Oldham Half Marathon to name but a few.

I can't believe it's been twelve months since I set myself the challenge to complete 30 new things before I hit 30. With just eight months to go until I wave a final goodbye to my 20s it seems like an opportune time to look back and reflect on the journey thus far...and think ahead to how on earth I'm going to complete the rest of my challenges.

I've taken a look back over the year and picked out my top five moments (it's still December so I wonder if Noddy Holder will do the countdown for me; he seems do all the others at this time of year)...so here are just some of the highlights of what's been a year to remember:

I'm not sure this was in my new job description

Coming in at number 5: New job

It's been eight months now since I said a fond farewell to South Staffordshire Council. My professional home for nearly six years, leaving Codsall was actually one of the most daunting experiences of 2013; but ultimately it's proven to be one of the most rewarding. The time was right for change, and professionally, I couldn't have made a better move.

Number 4: When a non-stag doo stag doo is better than a stag doo

It might not have been on my list of 30 things to do but what should have been my stag doo turned out to be one of the best weekends of the year. Munich now holds a special place in my heart. Its architecture, its cutlure, its beer halls. Seeing the Olympic village, Dachau, the Allianz Arena and of course Rogers the Spaniel and 'Des Lennis'.

Number 3: The Golden Gate Bridge

My trip to San Francisco was incredible. Some great people, some wonderful places - but for me, taking an early morning stroll over the Golden Gate Bridge as the fog sweeps in from the ocean over the 'Frisco Bay was just incredible.

There was something cathartic about that walk, with my ipod playing Bob Dylan and with me inadvertently wandering into the middle of a 'Free Tibet' demonstration.

Number 2: Down Under with Rich


New Zealand is an incredibly beautiful country. The views are spectacularly stunning - and I got to spend some quality time with one of my best mates who I haven't seen nearly enough in the past few years. I also managed to take a trip on the 'Vomit Comet' ferry, get bitten to buggery on a beach and watch an England test match in Auckland (back in the days when we were good at cricket).

Number 1: My biggest failure

My inner-child still chuckles at this

We didn't manage it up Snowdon

I feel like I've done and achieved so much this year - but strangely enough, my only failure to-date has arguably been my most enjoyable. Coming in at number 24 on the list is to climb Snowdon. On 4th April (what would have been said wedding day) me and my entourage of misfits set out to conquer Wales' most famous mountain. Sadly, the snow scuppered those plans. But it turned out to be one of the best weekends I've had for years. Surrounded by my brothers and closest friends we had a great time full of laughter and fun. A walk - an on-going battle between Rogers and Becs over his inappropriate choice of footwear and a late night sing-song. It was a nice reminder that it doesn't really matter what you do, or where you do it, it's all about the people you do it with.

It's impossible to predict what lies ahead in 2014 - but I'm hopeful it will be as eventful and fruitful as 2013. I've got 8 months to get back in the swimming pool and prove my doubters wrong; my plans for a TV debut have taken a big leap forward - and it looks like I'm going all Samba in June!

I've been incredibly fortunate to have the love and support of some very good people throughout 2013 - I hope you all have a great 2014.

Back in the pool - and a plea for help

So my quest to finally learn to swim is progressing about as well as Arsenal's transfer bid for Luis Suarez.

There's about as much chance of Luis Suarez
 ending up at Arsenal as there is me swimming
 10 lengths of a paddling pool

I'm getting that sinking feeling - literally. It's been a few weeks since I last set foot in the pool at Wombourne - and this morning it really showed. I can barely do a width, I'm gasping for air rather than breathing calmly and I'm back to having a gallon of chlorine rather than Tropicana for Sunday morning breakfast.

I feel close to the point of saying - 'do you know what, I haven't drowned after 29 years, maybe I'll be just fine as I am'. Even the ever-patient Clive said that there's not a lot more he can teach me - it's all down to practice now. Although he did offer one pearl of wisdom about ducking my head in and out of the sink at home to practice my breathing. I would try that but the pots and pans which have been building up all week would probably be in the way.

What I really need to do is practice in the pool during the week. I just struggle to find the time - and, in fairness, the inclination. What I need is someone to drag me along to a public swim.

So - this is a genuine plea for help. If you're a swimmer, if you're patient and if you want to do your bit towards a 'care in the community' award then please get in touch.

I think I'm back in the mental block phase of this process...and I'm conscious that time is ticking closer to that big 3 0.

Still splashing - and I follow in the footsteps of George Harrison

Still splashing - and I follow in the footsteps of George Harrison

I'm conscious that my blog entries are becoming a little less frequent of late - much to the relief of most I suspect. But the idea of this blog wasn't to indulge my ego (well, maybe a little) - it was a running diary of how I was going to take my life on a whole new path and complete 30 things I'd always wanted to do before I hit 30.
 
I turn 29 in just over a month and I'm conscious there's still a hell of a lot to do - including learn to swim.
 

If only I could get my head under water I'd be impressed.

Last week I donned the flattering nose clip - I looked ridiculous. But then again this isn't a vanity exercise - and it sort of worked. But I'm still finding myself getting more and more frustrated with myself for not being able to do what the 4 year olds on the other side of the pool seem to do so effortlessly.
 
I've just come back from my latest lesson at Wombourne Leisure Centre. Clive's on holiday this week so a young lad called Jake stepped in to take the class. I'm now being taught by someone who wasn't even born the first time I started to flounder in the shallow end at Heath Town baths. There's another tick in the self-esteem column.
 
But persevere I shall. I've still got a year to nail this.
 

 

Now I'm hoping my frustration for not being able to swim may be cured by following in the footsteps of George Harrison. I'm putting aside my preconceptions and thinking about trying alternative methods to help me relax. The eastern philosophies of inner peace and harmony could just be the tonic I need. It seemed to work for George and The Beatles...although the mind altering 'herbs' may have played their part too.

Number 17 on my list is to take a yoga class. This may sound weird but I wanted to at least try something that I'd previously been quite dismissive of. Relaxation doesn't necessarily come easy to the Angus's. I think there's some genetically messed up wiring which generally means instead of enjoying the moment we're looking for the next thing to worry about. Not anymore - this is a whole new mind set change. Or is it?

Earlier this week I enrolled in a meditation class. Now, I have fears that I may have to buy the Guardian, eat copious amounts of natural yoghurt and start thinking about a fairer voting system just to fit in here. But meditation, Buddhism and alike work for millions around the world - so why not give it a go? After all, if I can find the key to inner peace then surely I can swim a few lengths of a swimming pool?

The only problem is - after my first session I came out feeling more screwed up than when I went in. Steve was the Buddhist teacher who was leading the session. He seemed like a really nice chap - but as I was trying to concentrate on my breathing and having my first taste if inner peace in my first meditation my mind wasn't playing ball. Instead of trying to picture a place of tranquillity I was thinking: if Cliff Richard and Vladimir Putin had a love child, I bet it would look like Steve.
 
After finally overcoming that strange vision I was then re-focussed...only for a fly to enter the equation. I've never wanted to splat a fly with quite so much venom before. It was stopping me from relaxing!!!! There was I, eyes shut,  forcing myself to relax...then came the fly. The best way I can describe it is to look at this picture of Basil Fawlty.
 
Now I know it's not quite yoga - but it's a start. If I can learn to relax a bit more then I'm sure I'll feel better for it - then I can humiliate myself at a yoga class when an arthritic 85 year old will show the world they're more flexible than me. I might sell tickets for people to watch that one - it will be a hoot I'm sure.
 
It seemed a bit too obvious to have George Harrison as an outro - so I thought I'd go for this indie-hit from the '90s instead...

 
 
 
 

 

Back in the pool - reluctantly

The last time I blogged about my swimming lessons was in early March. It's now almost three months later and I think it's safe to say I'm not really any closer to donning my pyjamas and leaping majestically into the deep end to retrieve a brick.

With my trip abroad, the new job and generally doing loads of different things, the motivation to rise early on a Sunday morning and head down to Wombourne Leisure Centre has waned somewhat.

I'm expecting to have a similar expression
when I try the nose clip next week

But this weekend I was determined to get back into it. After all, I've only got a year or so to nail this and I can't let this one in particular defeat me. I  may not achieve some of the other things on my list - but there's no way I'm letting this one beat me.

It was good to see Clive again. He looked somewhat startled when I appeared poolside this morning - but then again I'm happy to admit I rarely look my best on a Sunday morning - I'm sure he's not the first person I've startled early on a Sunday (that sounds more sinister than it was supposed to).

There were some new faces in the pool since I was there last. It's always nice to know it isn't just me who can't do it!

One guy called Joe had, up until three weeks ago, never been in a swimming pool. He'd lost a close friend in the water when he was a kid so I guess he'd spent his life avoiding it all costs. Then there was another chap, probably in his late forties. He was telling me that his ex-wife died of cancer a couple of years ago and she was a great swimmer. It was great to hear he's met someone else now - and she's a swimmer too. I think he wanted to finally overcome his fear and have something they could do together. Really interesting to hear people's reasons for why they've never swam or why they suddenly want to do it now.

Now, having not been in the pool for a few months I was more than a tad apprehensive this morning. I actually remembered more than I thought I would. The buoyancy belt is long gone and I only used a float for ten minutes or so. That's when it starting going a bit wrong.

I can move my arms, I can move my legs and I can breathe - but all three together is still causing my brain some confusion. I know it'll take practice - I just can't seem to find the time (or, in fairness, the motivation) during the week to do it. I'm also a bit wary of going to a public swim in case I get shouted for being too slow - or sinking.

Does anyone know a millionaire who's got a pool I can practice in??

The basics are there - I just need to really get my head down and build my confidence. Oh, and stop breathing in half the pool as well - I'm sure that would help. Next week I have to use a nose clip. The indignity just doesn't end does it.

Clive's still really supportive though and if you're thinking about learning - just go and do it. It's a new term next week so if you fancy it, you should pop down to Wombourne Leisure Centre - you'll feel better for it (eventually...probably).

I'll leave you with this. I swim a bit like this spaniel - apart from the diving in and going in the deep end bit...

A public apology to Clive and why some things are best left in the past

I have to start this latest entry with a public apology to Clive. It's been a while since my last swimming update so just to re-fresh your memories: I'm 28, I can't swim so I've been taking lessons at Wombourne Leisure Centre. Clive, of course, is the friendly and exceptionally patient instructor.

I swam two lengths in New Zealand
but I haven't stepped foot in the pool since. Complacency?

The only problem is I haven't been in the pool since March! I've well and truly lost my swimming mojo. A combination of generally being really busy and (this is probably the crux of it) I'm really struggling to get motivated to get myself out of bed at 8am on a Sunday morning.

And it's not due to get any easier either - the next two weekends will be another write-off as I've already got plans to meet up with friends. I think in my head I know I've still got a year to master this so missing a few weeks here of there won't matter. Or at least that's how I'm subconsciously justifying my blatant failure to myself. I know I need to get my motivation back - anyone got any ideas??

Still, on a more positive note - my quest to go to at least ten live music/comedy gigs before I hit 30 is going pretty well. Last night I went to the Wolverhampton Grand Theatre to watch 'Made in Brum' with my dad, my brother and my mate Bordy. Hosted by Birmingham's most famous (only famous?) stand-up comic, Jasper Carrott, it was a showcase of the best of the '60s and '70s music Birmingham had to offer. Some may scoff at the very notion of it, but actually the West Midlands produced some great bands during that era: Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Slade and ELO to name but a few. But what dawned on me last night was that sometimes, some things are best left in the past.

We all like to reminisce. Music is emotive and can transport us back to a particular place in time; a relationship, a holiday; a special occasion - but sometimes you need to leave those memories safely tucked away.

Last night, albeit entertaining, was actually quite depressing. An audience with what Bordy described as an average age of 102, trying to turn back the clock and recapture the joys of years gone by. You know there's a generation gap when you get outside the show and the Ring & Ride pensioners' bus is parked up waiting to take people home.

But aside from the audience, it was sad, and a bit creepy, to see some of the acts on stage. I've never really clocked it before, but my Mom has always said it spooks her out when you've got ageing pop stars in their 60s and 70s singing about 'sweet sixteen' romances. She's actually spot on. Whilst the music will remain, sometimes those who perform it need to step back and say 'I'm done'. One act in particular murdered a Buddy Holly classic - whilst I cringed and prayed it would stop, if you listened very carefully, somewhere in Lubbock Texas you could hear Buddy's grave spinning.

That said, Jasper was on good form - his quip that Jagermeister tastes like 'Badger's p**s' in particular made me chuckle. I loved watching and listening to Jasper Carrott when I was growing up. He's a clever comic - not having to rely on bad language to get cheap laughs. Good, clean, clever observational comedy. But it has dated a bit now. I think I'll choose to remember Jasper from my childhood days and park last night's memory.

I think there's a lesson for us all in here somewhere. Memories should be cherished, of course they should, but spending too much time trying to recapture the past means you might miss all the great things that are happening right now. Like last night's show, some things just need to be fondly left in the past where they belong.

Let me leave with you with this - a great song from a great Black Country band who deserve more credit than simply being wheeled out for a 'top Xmas song countdown' every December...

#13 My new job: the Daily Mail, The Wanted and farewell South Staffordshire

Farewell South Staffordshire Council

The council's offices in Codsall
- my home since 2007.

After more than five and a half years, tomorrow I will bid farewell to my friends and colleagues at South Staffordshire Council.

I'm expecting it to be an emotional rollercoaster of a ride - I've made an awful lot of good friends in Codsall over the years and I have to say, I've thoroughly enjoyed my time there as its Communications Officer.

But after nearly six years, the time feels right for a change of scenery, a fresh challenge and the opportunity to get my teeth into something new.

I was a fresh faced 23 year old when I turned up for my first day on 23rd July 2007. Since then I've met government ministers; worked with journos from the Express & Star to The Sun; and have regularly been threatened with legal action by developers who have taken exception to my quotes in the press. I've travelled the world, spreading the South Staffordshire mantra; taking photographs of wheelie bins from Auckland to San Francisco; and I've even met a man from Kinver, in New Zealand, who was so delighted to know he'd be returning home after his travels to find a new blue recycling bin, he text his wife who was on the beach to tell her.

Personally, I'm not sure Malcolm Tucker and I
 share the same managerial style.

My most memorable moments

I've been called the 'king of spin', Alastair Campbell, Andy Coulson and, up until recently, even Max Clifford. I'm glad that nickname ceased. My personal favourite is Malcolm Tucker although I'm not sure my style is exactly the same as his.

There have been some memorable moments over the years - both good and bad.

I've been pilloried in the Daily Mail for my campaign to introduce plain English at the council. The message boards that day were somewhat critical of my plan - especially given that my quote had the phrase 'our levels of avoidable contact have fallen year on year'. In hindsight, perhaps I should have said 'we've had less people complain about the fact they don't know what the hell we're going on about!'. In fairness though, that final line was supposed to be 'off the record' - thanks to my good friend and former Express & Star journalist Alex Campbell for that one!  


'Jamie and his Olympic Torch'.
The stress of the Olympic Torch led me to gain a few pounds!
Standing next to The Wanted does
 nothing for your self confidence either.

For the record, here's the article. Thanks again to my mate Dav Tomlinson who printed the article and framed it for me. It takes pride of place. But it was I who had the last laugh... the inaccuracies still make me chuckle. They named the wrong council, put a picture of the wrong council offices and referred to me as having a 'communications department'. As a one man band for more than five years I'd have loved to have a whole department!

Over the past five and a half years I've:

• met pop stars
• held the Olympic torch
• been given free reign to ridicule the management team at our annual awards (although I suspect this will be returned ten-fold tomorrow!)
• had the pleasure of working with Jaguar Land Rover on the i54 'South Staffordshire' project which is a huge boost for Staffordshire and Wolverhampton.

I've also propelled the council into the world of Twitter, Facebook and YouTube. I've even written, directed and starred in my first film! Can you spot my cameo appearances in this video?

We've also teamed up with Dominic Littlewood to expose rogue fly-tippers, been the but of jokes on Harry Hill's TV Burp and even made it national when we prosecuted former Wolves striker Freddy Eastwood for a fly-tipping-related offence (Mark Mudie, you are welcome).

My favourite memory?

It's not very often South Staffordshire Council gets sandwiched between Barack Obama and Gordon Brown on Sky News' headline cycle...but that's exactly what happened in December 2008.

A somewhat dubious 'Lapland'-inspired winter wonderland event was to be staged in the village of Essington just before Christmas. But without a licence or any sort of permission, the council were asked to step in. We were the big bad council who were set to ruin Christmas. But it transpired there was a little more to it than that.

A similar, although unconnected, event had been closed down by trading standards teams in the south of the country just weeks before and all the signs suggested this was to be of a similar ilk. Broken first by the Express & Star, anticipation was growing as to whether the event would take place or not. We were taking calls from ITV News, the BBC, Reuters, The Sun and The Guardian. It was going to be a busy week! The organisers had promised 'huskies, reindeers, real snow, a bungee trampoline and cartoon characters skating on ice'. By the time the event was scrapped, TV crews captured one or two tatty marquees, one burger van, a white-painted plywood “ice rink” and, if memory serves me rightly, some tatty-looking tinsel and a pornagraphic magazine. A Christmas 'Winter Wonderland' it certainly wasn't. I think most people managed to get a refund after a bit of a battle which was good news. It was a busy week - but one I look back on with a smile.

I will miss South Staffordshire and will really miss some of the great friends I've worked with there. So where now? On Monday I take up my new position as Head of Communications and Engagement at Wolverhampton Homes. As with any new job, I'm approaching it with a mix of excitement and anticipation with a dash of nerves thrown into the mix for good measure! But it's set to be a fresh challenge and the opportunity to get involved in some new projects and learn a lot more too.

I'm sad to leave South Staffordshire behind - it's been a blast. But for now, it's time to hurl myself into a new challenge. #13 - get a new job. Done.

2 widths, a high-five from Clive and #22 updated

2 widths, a high-five from Clive and #22 updated

It's been two weeks since I last went swimming. The first Sunday I overslept and last Sunday I was away in Munich.

So this morning was my first session back. Last time out I'd had a pretty good session - but two weeks later and with no practice in between, I approached this morning with an element of trepidation. I'd need not have done though. Front crawl is definitely the style for me. The buoyancy belt was back on - but not for long. Fortunately I seemed to pick up exactly where I'd left off two weeks ago. Yes, I was still using a float and yes, breathing whilst moving my arms and legs all at the same time remains problematic...but I think I'm getting there now.

By the end of the half hour session the float had gone and I was actually swimming, unaided for the first time. I even managed to do something which I'd never mastered at school...one single width! I'd got my red stripe for my trunks at school 'for trying hard' but this time I actually did it. And there was no stopping me there...I swam back too!
This gargantuan achievement was greeted by Clive with a high-five...yes!


My reluctance to put my head under water is still causing a problem


Ok - it's not the greatest achievement known to man, but it's a big step forward for me. It shows I can do it - it's just about practice now. So, time to get in the pool more often. That in itself fills me with dread though. The last time I went to a public swimming session (at university) some woman shouted at me because I was in her way. In fairness I was, but I was doing a bloomin' good drowning impression at the same time! I now know how competitive and protective of their lanes these swimming people can be. I hope I don't encounter the same problem again because last time it really did put me off.

I still can't really put my head under water properly...it just feels horrible. But I'm hoping this comes with practice and confidence. Well, I guess it's over to me now. If I practice more I may just be able to get this nailed before I'm 30...

#22 Update

So, number 22 on my list was to got to at least 10 music or comedy gigs before I'm 30.

Well, we're making progress on that front. This week I'm going to two gigs in as many days. Firstly, I'm going to see The Darkness at the Wolverhampton Civic. I've seen The Darkness before, they were supporting Robbie Williams at Knebworth in 2003. So, ten years on I'm off to see them again. One thing is guaranteed...it will be loud!

The following night I'm back at the civic and will no doubt be surrounded by swathes of stone washed denim on ageing rockers as me, Ian, Alex and my Dad take in the legends that are Status Quo.

I shall spend the following few weeks recovering from tinnitus I suspect.

I'm taking a blogging sabattical for a few weeks now but hope to be back soon with some updates on my list of 30 Things To Do Before I'm 30. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this...



Swimming breakthrough and #27 - Keep on running

Swimming breakthrough

An artist's impression of how I could look in the pool

So last week's swimming lesson felt like an unmitigated disaster. I came away feeling despondent and, if I'm honest, ready to jack it all in.

But after a few pep talks from various people at work this week (Sam and Chris, there's your name check) there I was, back at Wombourne Leisure Centre at 8.30 this morning...ready to go again.

It did not start well.

I am now ready to accept that I can not do the breaststroke. It's like patting your head and rubbing your tummy (or is it the other way around?) - my brain just isn't wired for that sort of co-ordination.

So, I'm going back to what feels more natural...the front crawl. It's how I was taught (well, shouted at) to swim when I was younger and what appears to come more naturally. Within 5 minutes, my buoyancy belt was off...and, albeit with the help of a float, I was enjoying being in the water.

My technique needs a lot of work and I still need to get over the face in the water thing, but with Clive's help, I think I might just be able to do this. Clive says the key is short, sharp feet movements - not floppy feet. Clive, next week I shall have floppy feet no longer!

Could this be the breakthrough?

Run Forrest, Run...

Number 27 on my list of 30 things to do before I'm 30 simply reads..."Run at least two half marathons (one at least sub 1:55m)"

If ever the phrase 'easier said than done' was applicable...



Run Forrest, Run: Forrest Gump; great film, profound motto, inspirational beard

I have a love-hate thing going on with running. I've never been great at long distance running - I've never really been the right build. Short(ish), stocky and lacking stamina (I know, never a good thing) - I'm yet to see a Kenyan Olympic winner possess these characteristics.

I also used to dread those cross-country runs at Highfields on drizzly Monday mornings in January. Clever trick from the PE department, they never warned you in advance it was just 'today...cross country'...damn.

The skinny, tall kids always finished first; the girls mostly walked around in packs, I suspect discussing who's better, Westlife or Backstreet Boys; whilst I came in around half way, caked in mud, freezing cold and dreading next lesson. As an aside, I never quite figured out why the girls were allowed to wear jumpers and joggers to do PE and the boys had to wear hideous maroon rugby shirts and shorts, regardless of the arctic biting weather...always seemed grossly unfair?

But over a short distance, I used to be rather quick. It may sound strange to those who didn't know me at school - but I really was fast over 100 and 200 metres. In Year 9 I was fifth fastest in the 100m in the whole of Wolverhampton (that sounds better than came 2nd last in the final!). I was also moved from playing in defence to a striker role at Windsor Boys. My darting runs would split defences and hapless centre backs simply couldn't catch me...they didn't need to. Inevitably I'd either trip over my own feet, hit a shot that went out for a throw-in or simply psychologically crumble as the 14 year old opposition goalkeeper psyched me out.

But I was fast. I was clocking up times of 11-point-something seconds over 100 metres. I doubt I would have ever gotten any better - but then alcohol, junk food and relationships kicked in and, well, I can no longer run the 100m in 11-point-something seconds!

Still, I used to really enjoy sprinting - and one thing I really regret over the past ten years or so is letting myself go and gradually stopping doing the sports I used to love. Other interests took over and all of a sudden I was looking quite doughy and my fitness was frankly appalling. I believe it's known as a comfort zone? But I've fought my way back from that...

A few years ago my brothers and I decided we were going to run the Wolverhampton Half Marathon to raise money for the Alzheimer's Society in memory of my Nana Joy. We trained for months leading up to it - West Park in Wolverhampton is an ideal training circuit...exactly one mile around. It's safe to say I was the weakest link of the three. Ian is spindly and very fit. Alex is fairly athletic too and despite asthma and a slightly dodgy knee in the weeks leading up to the run - he was not to be perturbed. I however huffed, puffed and wheezed myself over the finish line. It hurt...a lot. In fairness though we did cross the line in a respectable time of 1hr 57m. A year later I came in at just over 2 hours...remarkable since I had a fairly nasty bout of satay chicken-inspired food poisoning courtesy of a Cardiff-based chinese buffet 24 hours earlier. I think being sick going through Bilbrook held me up a tad in the end.

But since then I'm a stone lighter, I'm back playing football regularly, I've even taken up racketball too. And, physically, I feel fitter than I probably have for 14 years or so.

So - onwards and upwards. Two half marathons to do - and I need to beat my personal best. Looks like Wolverhampton could be the first attempt - before Birmingham in October. In a drunken state I also seem to have agreed to run the Oldham half marathon too!

So - the next 18 months will see me running...quite a lot. Here's something from the Spencer Davis Group to keep me going...

Scuba drowning in Faliraki, Bordy and Buddy

Scuba Drowning in Faliraki



The original Inbetweeners. Mif, Indi, me, Ben, Bordy and Naylor.

Since I've been learning to swim, I've been thinking a bit more about why I dislike it so much.
 
My first blog post about swimming gives you a flavour - but the more I think back, there are definitely two or three other reasons that spring to mind and would explain my fear and trepidation when it comes to being in the water.

1. This may sound like an excuse, and there's no scientific evidence to back this up as far as I'm aware, but I think it could be genetic. My parents aren't great swimmers and my grandad couldn't swim either - a slight problem considering he was in the navy during the war. He only learnt to swim when they threw him overboard in Malta and shouted back - "now swim you b*****d!". I hope I don't drive Clive to these sorts of extremes.
2. My mom has kindly reminded me this week of a Haven holiday we had in Weymouth when I was younger. Seaview holiday park - and Jamie decided he could swim. He was not going to wear his armbands, he insisted he could swim. Afterall, my brothers weren't wearing armbands - why should I. I sunk. I was hauled out soaking and sobbing.
3. Scuba diving in Faliraki. Clearly not my wisest decision. If I can offer one piece of advice to all non-swimmers out there; if you're incapable of swimming a length in the pool at your hotel, don't assume you'll be fine underwater at sea.
   
   It was my post-A Level lads holiday. Now, for some unknown reason, probably because there was nothing to do during the days; especially after my best pal Bordy lost our only football and our frisbee (in the ocean and hotel roof respectively); I signed up for a scuba diving session.  So, one morning our group took a boat trip out to sea.
   
   Eventually we arrived at our scuba diving destination. It started badly. Our mate Indi missed the step off the jetti and crashed straight into the water. This greatly amused me - but my laughter was not to last. Anyway, we go through a quick safety briefing and the Aussie instructor tells us that the most likely problem we'll encounter is water getting in your goggles. If this happens, tap the bottom of your goggles with you palm and breath out of your nose to flush the water out. Sounds simple.
   
   Into the water we went - and I honestly loved it. For about 5 minutes I was in the sea, I could breath, my eyes were open and the views were spectacular. Then water began to seep into my goggles. Not to worry I thought, I'd listened to the briefing, I know how to sort this minor problem... 

   

   Had Bordy not lost the frisbee perhaps
   I would never have ventured out to sea.

   
   
   I pressed my palm against the bottom of goggles and breathed out...through my mouth. My mouthpiece (you know, the really important bit that gives you oxygen) flew out of my mouth. I was then overcome with panic. I gasped for air, inhaling most of the ocean in the process and then completely forgot the other piece of information the instructor gave us. 'Paddle with your feet and you go up...paddle with your hands and you go down'. So of course I thrashed my arms around which resulted in me sinking further and further down. I started making the distress signal and I was fished out by the Aussie guy who rather embarrassingly towed me back to the boat. I remembered at the time thinking two things: one, I genuinely may die here and, two; why is my mate Naylor laughing so much.

Well, I guess my fear of the water stems further than wet socks in the changing rooms at Heath Town baths and swimming with the kids with the snotty noses.

Overcoming the fear

So - I had swimming lesson number three this morning. It was not good.

It feels a bit like when you learn to drive. You start thinking you've got the hang of it then you have two or three sessions where you do nothing but stall. Today I stalled.

Clive is being really patient with me which is a good job - because I'm at the stage where I'm getting frustrated with myself. It's a bit of a viscious cycle - the more frustrated I get, the more tense I become and the more likely I am to sink. I'm fine with the floats - but when they're taken away, for some unknown reason I forget the basics and I start to flap. It's all psychological so I know I have to overcome the fear. Clive can give me the basics around technique and breathing - but only I can overcome the fear. The one good thing to come out of it - I'm more determined than ever to do this. Ok - it may be harder than I had originally thought - but I won't let it beat me.

The Day The Music Died

I can't let the 3rd February pass without paying tribute to one of my oldest and bestest mates, Adam Shakespeare (nee Ward). Bordy - happy birthday mate - hope you have a great day. Thanks for the happy memories...

And finally, the reason I never forget Bordy's birthday every year. Of course, 3rd February 2013 marks the 54th anniversary of the day the music died. On a cold, wintery evening in Clear Lake, Iowa - rock 'n' roll lost one of its most talented pioneers. With no heating on their tour bus, Buddy Holly hired a small plane to fly the headliners onto their next gig. Well, the rest is history. He perished that fateful night alongside Ritchie Valens, J.P Richardson (The Big Bopper) and their pilot Roger Peterson. As Don McLean sung in his anthemic American Pie, it was the day the music died.

Fact of the day: Buddy had fish and chips at the chippy on Snow Hill in Wolverhampton, true.

Here's to you Buddy...

Buoyancy Belts, Cadbury's Chocolate and a special Thank You Very Much (thank you very, very much)

Clive's buoyancy belt - simple, effective, dashing.

Clive's Buoyancy Belt

In my last swimming-related blog I referenced dignity: specifically the lack of it.

As a twenty-something trying to conquer my fears of the water, I decided that this was not to be a dignified experience; but one that I would embrace nonetheless. Well, that was my mindset until I walked onto the poolside at Wombourne Leisure Centre this morning, only to then see a colleague from work having an early morning dip in the pool.

So - he's gliding through the water, looking at ease in the lanes which are specifically cordened off for good swimmers, whilst I look on, sheepish and shivering in the shallow end, attaching to my body, Clive's homemade buoyancy belt.

I'm all of a sudden very conscious of the fact that I look ridiculous. All in all - not the best of starts.

But actually, once I was in the water, it wasn't too bad. The belt is simple and really effective. Bits of cut up foam, threaded onto a belt strap and attached around your back. The outcome...you don't sink. The others learning to swim (Chris,  Sat and I) have concluded that we needn't finish the rest of the course...just wear these belts all the time and if we end up in water at any stage we'll be fine! Perhaps not...

Clive is exceptionally enthusiastic and supportive, even at 8.30am on a Sunday morning. Interestingly, I'm not even sure that he's teaching me yet - it's all about confidence, something which Clive exudes - the sign of someone who knows what he's doing.
 
Well, lesson number two went pretty well I think. I managed to move my arms and legs at the same time, as well as gasping for air on the odd occassion too. I even swam one width without Clive holding me up. This is progress in my eyes, in spite of swallowing half the pool at one point. Interestingly, the taste is the same as it was when I consumed half of Wombourne's pool at that kids' birthday party all those years ago...happy memories.

Next week - goggle time!

Cadbury's Chocolate

As my last blog entry focussed on football - I'm aware I perhaps lost some of my audience. Well - I'm hoping this will win some of them back. Chocolate.
 
I have somewhat of a sweet tooth - something my childhood dental records would prove.
 
Chocolate is the food of the devil - sickly sweet, delicious, calorie-ridden...and moorish. And, as I have found this morning, too much of it will give you a chocolate hangover which can be on a par with the effects of five pints of lager.
 
As a nation we love it - in particular we love the taste of Cadbury's. It's a staple discussion point amongst friends: what's your favourite chocolate. Invariably, it's more often than not a Cadbury's concoction.
 
Yesterday I made the short trip from Dudley to Cadbury's World in Bourneville. An old friend from university days came up from London to see me and our friend Ste - so we thought we'd take her to see the most famous confectionary name the West Midlands has to offer. By the way - great day out - would throughly recommend it.
 
As part of the tour we got to see some of the old adverts Cadbury's have run throughout the years.

.Crunchie's 'Friday Feeling, I'm So Excited' was a personal highlight - but the 'Everyone's a Fruit 'n' Nut' case' advert also stands out as a classic.
And in more recent times - Phil Collins, for once doing something for the national good - albeit as a drumming chimp.

But I learnt something yesterday. It doesn't matter where you are - it's all about the people you're with. I'd been to Cadbury's World before; not too long ago; had a great time. But now I was returning in different company. I was a little anxious to be totally frank.
 
But it turns out I was fine - and I've started a new set of memories now. I had a great day with two great mates (and I missed what seems to have been another abysmal Wolves display to-boot).
 
So - what have I learnt?

1. Clive's getting me to (dare I say this too soon) not dread being in water.
2. Phil Collins as a drumming chimp turns out to be a piece of marketing genius; and
3. being in company of good people makes me happy.

 
 
 
Finally - as a tribute to Cadbury's - one of this country's finest brands and a shout out to Stevo and Laura - thank you very much...



Splish Splash...my morning with Clive

It's always cold in Gornal - but this morning was particularly bitter

Motivating myself to go swimming full stop was always going to be a task - but at 8.30am on a Sunday morning in January....well, shall we say there were a few expletives said aloud when my alarm went off at 7.30am this morning.

My mood was hardly lifted by the biting cold air which only those who know the heights of Gornal can appreciate.

Nonetheless, I made my way to Wombourne Leisure Centre for my first swimming lesson in more than 15 years.

The swimming experience hasn't changed much - but somehow the chlorine smell didn't seem as potent as I remember - and the tiled floors didn't seem as cold. I'm beginning to wonder whether this process is more mind over matter?

Clive and I after my first lesson

Poolside hasn't changed - the same shiver of dread descended upon me as I stepped out of the changing rooms. But then I met Clive.

Clive seems like a really nice guy. A former competitive swimmer, he reassures me (and the three other clearly anxious beginners) that he's been instructing for  more than ten years - and that we'll all be fine. I like Clive - he doesn't seem as stern as the swimming instructors I remember from years gone by.

We get in the pool and are straightaway given these long foam sausage-like floats. The colours of these mean they resemble some sort of prop from a Timmy Mallet 'Whack-a-Day' set circa 1988. I avoid the pink floats and am handed the rather snazzy yellow and green ones.

Clive then talks us through the breaststroke - one that I've never really done before. The idea of moving my arms and legs simultaneously is just weird. But I think I did ok. Only major problem was that I was concentrating so hard on staying afloat and doing the strokes right - I keep forgetting to breathe. Turns out breathing's quite important - without it you sink and subsequently die. Good lesson to learn.

Now - as I alluded to earlier - it wasn't just me learning to swim. Three others were there: Dave, Chris and Sat. Turns out all of them are there for the same reason - they all have young kids who can swim and they want to to be able to swim with them. I like that. Dave in particular was really interesting. Probably in his early thirties, clearly a physically fit bloke - but, like me, lacking confidence in the water and genuinely quite frightened. It's reassuring to know it's not just me - but hats off to him for facing his fears and going for it.

I have to admit - it wasn't the most dignified Sunday morning I've ever had. For those who know the pool at Wombourne, you'll know there's a spectator area. With young kids having lessons in the shallow end, the spectator area was quite full with parents and grandparents, there for moral support. On more than one occassion though I'm sure I saw a few people pointing and laughing at us newbies floundering with our floats...or maybe it's just paranoia kicking in?

So, what have I learnt so far?

1) this will not be dignified so just embrace it
2) It's not just me out there who dreads stepping into water
3) breathing is important
4) there's no physical reason why I can't do this - it's about overcoming the barriers in my own mind
5) I have to buy goggles - that will not be a good look.

In any case - first lesson down - I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Before I sign off, here's a bit more splish splash from my childhood...