I’d wanted to try out a mud race for a while. I tried to tempt my friends into joining me for the Maldon Mud Race, which, simply put, is a few hundred metres dash across a muddy riverbed in Essex. The sign up rates among my friends were low. My cousin and niece, who had initially agreed to join me, backed out after about two weeks. I was gutted as I went back to the drawing board.
Soon after I spotted an advert for Mudderella – a mud race for women, by women. It looked fun and less daunting than Tough Mudder. It sounded great so I signed up. Continue reading
I’ll level with you – I’m quite the chicken when it comes to the dark; the woods at night; a full moon shrouded in grey cloud cover. It took me a little by surprise therefore when I committed to a night time orienteering challenge through Epping Forest with my husband and two of our friends. Continue reading
Relocating back to the UK has been a gradual reversal of culture shock. In the last six months I’ve been staggered by the pleases and thank yous
A rather enticing Cornish coast…Cornish pasties top the view though
we deal to each other, the strict adherence to queuing etiquette and of course, retraining my brain to remember to check the weather forecast before heading outside. All of these seem rather standard side-effects of moving back into your home country, but perhaps a more obscure shock after bathing in Dubai’s balmy 30 degree waters, is that people actually swim in the UK’s bracing seas. Madness. The most shocking part of all was that I was about to join them. Continue reading
Before you nod off after reading the title, please indulge me by reading the next paragraph about why you shouldn’t write this sport off just yet.
Bowls was never high up on my to-try list because, like you no doubt, I thought it was for those of us trying to socialise in the twilight of life. What I found though was a sedate game that nearly anyone can play. The exciting part is, it could be something we all start playing over a beer and a chat with friends within the next few years… I’m serious! Continue reading
Waiting for divine or magical intervention
I squeaked with excitement when I saw an advert for a free racquetball lesson. Finally, I thought, I may discover some magic trick to turn me into a racquet sport pro and gift me powers of sporting excellence! A tall ask perhaps, but according to my volunteer instructor, I have potential. What that means exactly is unclear, though I fear it may be code for ‘hopeless case’. Continue reading