Andy's Blog

As is usual for this time of year I have drunk and eaten far too much.  Obviously it’s everybody else’s fault though, I mean if they feel the need to provide me with a quarter ton of confectionery delights then it’s only polite to consume them.

Of course the descent into consumption hell means a heck of a climb back out.. and this year, if all goes well, is an important one and one I need to be at my top form for.

That's me that is

So the coming New Years bash will be something of a blow-out as I plan to drop a fair number of kilos and hit the weights in an aggressive manner come 2011, or at least that’s the plan.

So until then, I bid you a very Happy New Year / Blianadh Bha Ur.

“You have to do a blog post when you get home!”

Unfortunately, and almost bizarrely,  NOTHING had happened at the point of exiting my usual Tuesday visit to Senior Karate Class.  There has been a couple of Incidents within the carpark, after the Senior class had finished, which almost makes me sound like some kind of pervert hanging around dark car parks at night.. not helped by the fact that both incidents seemed to involve at least two female colleagues from Karate.

“Tart” as a friend called me, and no matter how much you protest your innocence; it only seems to make you seem more.. more… something-or-other!

However, it was incident free.  Nothing extraordinary had happened, apart from me not making some kind of arse of myself as usual, and no unintended double-entendre’s had been uttered.  How uneventful.

I was just musing on how quickly a holiday can fade into memory, and even more on how much you get out of shape during said hols!!  The evidence m’learned colleages;

• First karate lesson after coming back from hols and I managed to completely destroy my hard man of karate persona (self delusion is a wonderful thing); Shouting Ichi! Ni! San! Shi!… and then squeaking like mickey mouse on helium “Go”, “Roku”…
• The Alfa Romeo has decided to act all Alfa Romeo’y and decide it wanted 450 of my finest english pounds to be spent on its lower regions (brakes, disks and bearings)
• My sunburnt head has now turned to a peeling head.. I look like a “shoulda used head-n-shoulders” disaster advert.
• 563 work emails on the first day back is never a fun thing to behold.
• The holidays are not even a week old and I feel like I need another one.

Ah well, there was always Senior Karate?  Unfortunately I was bloody awful!  I felt like somebody had strapped lead weights to the ends of my arms, which wasn’t clever as Sensei was not in a very forgiving mood today.  I think I caused at least one of the press-ups that were metered out as punishments, but not all the others.  I was sweating, heaving and panting by the end of the lesson.  Nice!

I wouldn’t mind all that, but it didn’t look like I had even BEEN on holiday.  I stood next to Libs and looked all wan and pale next to her gorgeously tanned self.. Even Sarah looked more tanned than me, and as far as I am aware she spent the past two weeks in rainy England.  *sigh*

Chewy condom anyone?

..and then to top it all off, as I stand in line at a BP Station to purchase some much needed cold beverage to throw down my parched throat, I hear from the two young teenage girls standing behind me; “Eeeerrgh! You’d think he’d be too old to need those!”.  I look down at the pack of chewing gum I have also decided to impulse buy.

I look up at the two girls, who look back at me like I’m the perv as described in the first paragraph of this blog post.

“Whoah, hang on…”

But it’s too late, they wander off.  So now it’s official, I am now too old for chewing gum, or worse.  I woulda given them a reverse shuto to the heads, but I was feeling my age and couldn’t even if I wanted to.

*double sigh* time to check the calendar and figure out when the next holiday is…

Whilst the Sun is out and I am away from the Gym, to allow my wrist to recover from its recent battering at a Karate Tournament, I thought it would be remiss of me not to go for a pleasant stroll around the back of the Industrial Estate where I work.

Through an Industrial version of the wardrobe in the Narnia stories and you go from Industrial Estate, and all its pre-fabricated buildings, to nature at its wildest… or at least a British version of wildest where the most that will harm you are stinging nettles and thistles.

Listened to Alicia’s Attic as I casually strolled and put the iPhones camera through its paces, as can be seen below.

From this...

Somewhat in the same vein as my ‘8 beginner tips for Yoga‘, I bring you 10 gym warnings for the unwary.  These have been gathered from my daily visits to the gymnasium in a desperate bid to develop a muscle.

1. There will always be somebody there bigger than you, trying to keep up with their regime will only result in arms that ache so much that you can’t lift your cup of tea at work an hour later.
2. There will always be somebody smaller than you, and perversely they too are able to lift more than you.  Stick with your exercise regime and do *NOT* attempt what they just did… Nothing hits your self respect quite like whimpering for help as you try not to strangle yourself under a heavy bar.
3. There will always be a ‘fat-sweaty-bloke’ present whilst you exercise, whose sole job is to precede you on all equipment to cover it in a fine fragrant musk.
4. Laughing at the guys gurning as they lift heavy weights is NOT acceptable behaviour and can be hazardous to your health.  (In a related note: do not attempt to look at your own face as you lift your more modest weights… it’s doing the same THING!!)
5. Parading or posing in front of the mirrors flexing your ‘muscles’ is acceptable practise, up until the point when somebody who actually does have muscles notices you.
6. No matter how big you are; strutting your stuff around the ladies section of the gym, in a faux attempt at getting water, makes you a cock…. in every sense of the word.
7. The amount of attention you attract is in direct correlation to the amount of wind you break and the attempts you make to try and maneuver said weights onto your chest and into your lap, after a major “uh-oh” failure in anticipating how heavy the actual weights are.  (See #1 and #2 for more understanding of this point).
8. No matter which shower cubicle you walk into, and regardless of the colour of the shower gel provided, it will always be ‘essence of coconut’ and make you come out smelling like a macaroon.
9. Using the hairdryer to dry your hair is fine, using it under your armpits is a little weird, using it to blow dry your pubic hair down below is downright freaky!
10. Finally… Walking into the changing rooms to be confronted by the rear-end of fat-sweaty-bloke in all his naked glory, one leg up on a changing bench, throwing liberal amounts of talcum powder between the cheeks of his but-tocks does give you pause to wonder why you got up at this obscene hour and punish yourself in this way.

...to this!

All of the above has either been noticed, witnessed or done by myself – i’ll leave it to your overactive imaginations as to which ones which.

Further rules can be found here, please add your own comments as to any other warnings/rules/observations I may have missed.

In a kind of “you show me yours, and I’ll show you mine” posting, me and Mr Clayton-Bull have been comparing exercise regimes.

Now I am not, in any way shape or form, a power gym user or even particularly that fit, however the following is something that one of the guys I work with uses – and he’s buff!  So I have decided to tag along with it, and add my karate elements.

…and, Damian, I still manage to get to work on time

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