Wednesday, 4 May 2016
Fitness Goals = Richard Ashcroft's cheekbones
Now, if you don't know who Richard Ashcroft is you need to leave immediately! Only kidding, he only wrote arguably the best album of the 1990s.
Better than Oasis..can I even say.... The Stone Roses? Open to an intense debut by hardcore Indie fans. Anyhow, that album, Urban Hymns was immense. It came out in 1997 - the year of my travelling around Europe and also the soundtrack to an ill fated 'make or break' holiday with my ex. The clue is in that last sentence.
I've had some pretty optimistic ideas in my time, but thinking a three week camping/road trip through France down to Italy with my nutter of a boyfriend, has to be right up there. The car wheels had barely touched on French soil when we were having our first monumental row. I did inform him prior to leaving that I couldn't read a map. This was not a problem back home. However, when I was having trouble working out which exit to leave on the roundabout - he decided to drive around it about 10 times whilst acting like a complete and utter psycho. I told him to pull over once he had kamikazed off the roundabout to go absolutely mental myself.
I should have hitch hiked right back to the port there and then but ever the optimist I got back in the car. My car! At various points along our journey he would turn the car around screaming that we were going back. By the time we got the campsite I generally wanted to kill him. This is when I discovered he also lost his rag at erecting a tent. In fact, he lost his temper at any given situation that most sane people can work through with logic and a laugh.
This hysteria carried on like this right through the middle of France, through the alps, along the beautiful French Rivera and beyond. At one point he was going to let me out on a motorway as he got so irate about something - we probably missed an exit. He got stressed at the slightest thing.
By the time we got to Italy - which I drove through as he'd lost his bottle at this stage - I came to the conclusion the relationship was over. When we got to Pisa (where he sliced his finger off cutting a melon) I was ready to get a flight home. Any flight via Hong Kong if needs be. Only thing was, he had calmed down when we got to our destination and only went and proposed at the leaning tower of Pisa. A joke right? No he was deadly serious. I just muttered ok then and we then went off for a shit meal. About an hour later I said it was probably best to talk about it when we got home.
More arguments followed and on the way back I drove from the East to the West of France ignoring the wanker and listening to The Verve the whole way.
I have digressed in spectacular fashion. Anyhow, Richard is back with a new album this month and I shall be buying it. We've been through the good and bad times. His first solo album reminds me of when I fell in love with my calm, rationale and grown up husband.
My point was - I would die for cheekbones like The Ashcroft. Or to be that naturally skinny. He was a skinny young man and now he's a skinny older man.
So, last Wednesday I lost 1.5lbs and this Wednesday I put on 1 lb - that would be the bank holiday and an Indian take-away on Sunday. I went to my HIT class today and more cycling this week. The sun is shinning and I've got a family wedding in August to give me another fitness goal besides cheekbones like Mr Ashcroft.
Until next time...