There comes a moment in everybody’s life when you realise it may well be the last opportunity you have to do something you have always wanted to or something you just love to do. For some, that moment may be death. For others, that may well be your stag do. Some people may actually believe they are the same thing, but there is a subtle difference....you can die more than once on your stag do.
Thankfully, I made it through the rain to coin a famous song. Starting at 4pm on Friday and finishing at 6pm on Sunday, I survived the weekend in my home town of Leeds. There was a bit of pain involved, and a serious lack of sleep, but sleep is overrated. And so are headaches allegedly.
People asked me if I was nervous and I genuinely was not. I have an excellent best man, and he planned a fabulous weekend with just the right mix of everything – rugby, football, golf, drinking, eating and a comedy Red Bull Flugtag. It certainly did cross my mind as I flew to Leeds on Thursday that I should appreciate a comfortable bed, normal clothes and good food however.
I prepared for the weekend on Thursday with the delights of my mum’s cooking. With my impending deaths on her mind, Mum wanted to cook me a good meal and I went for my all-time favourite last supper – Roast Beef, Yorkshire Puddings, Potatoes, Vegetables and Gravy. Hit the spot as always.
There are a number of moments where I am satisfied enough that if I am going to be struck by lightning any second, then so be it. Mum’s dinner is one, Everton scoring a last minute goal to win a key game is another, and a particular cuddle with my girl where our bodies just fit perfectly into each other’s arms is the other. I guess death and stag dos help remind us what are the key things in life and what they mean to us.
What I realised more than anything however is what a great group of family and friends I can count on. Leeds may not have been the first choice for many, but they braved the miserable weather and some incredibly rough women to spend a special weekend with me. Some dragged themselves across Leeds, some drove across the UK, and others flew in from other countries to be there and for that I am extremely grateful. I have hinted once or twice before that I am not always the most eloquent when I have to verbally speak about feelings but I hope that all the gentlemen who attended the weekend feel that I reciprocate the efforts that they put into our friendships. And even if it was just the anticipation of my impending deaths that enticed them to be there – the fact that I had had my favourite last supper ensured I was calm and prepared for what was to come.
Showing posts with label wedding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wedding. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A Hairy Situation
Two of the most important ladies in my life have a major conflict. You always hope that your mum and wifey-to-be will get along, but sometimes there are pretty major obstacles that get in the way of a harmonious relationship. For almost six years, this has been a major obstacle, and leading up to our big day, it could be even more contentious. So I have decided to end the debate here and now.
Some people like facial hair and others do not. It makes a difference I guess if you have to come into contact with it. Thankfully HJ loves it and has never complained even when I have gone for the Stanley Cup Play-Off style beard.
Mum however has not been Bearded Bobby’s biggest fan. Anything longer than a millimetre and Mum’s fading eyes miraculously spark into action even on the webcam, and a new shaving kit is ordered. When I make it back to Leeds and there is a welcome home kiss or a farewell kiss on my departure, I’m forced to pucker my lips out as far as possible to avoid any major bristly contact.
So you can see my dilemma and there is a compromise to be reached. I can hereby confirm that there will be facial hair on August 4th, albeit a shadow, nothing too bristly, but enough. Nothing too outrageous, but I am calling it now.
Shaving and trimming can be a pain sometimes, but I much prefer the facial hair to baby face. I remember being 13-years-old and sprouting my first little fury moustache, and finally plucking the courage to shave it off one day under the supervision of my dad and sister. They were ever so forthcoming in their help and advice, and suggested the use of after shave immediately after. So kind and thoughtful as they are.
Back at school, I was one of the most developed in a hairyfying sense. Nothing too monkey like, but I was one of the youngest to have hairs on my legs (apart from one unfortunate girl), and rather than revel in my maturity and masculinity, I always found it a little embarrassing. As soon as school broke up for summer back in 1994, I sat in the bath and impulsively decided to shave my legs. I thought it may make me look slicker, maybe run a little faster on the football pitch. And if I looked like a complete fool, I had six weeks to grow something back. Nobody warned me of the science behind shaving and that it tends to grow back faster.
I guess most kids go through this kind of stuff. The irony is that we are often desperate to get rid of it when we are younger and we are desperately clinging on to it when we grow older. Having a hair-challenged dad, I have asked two hairdressers in the last couple of years as to whether they think I will lose mine, and both have said not. Thankfully, I followed Dad’s advice for the aftershave, but got mum’s genes there.
So as I am reaching my prime, I am aiming for a happy medium and going for just a little facial hair, nothing drastic and nothing that will cause any facial rashes to any unsuspecting wife, mum, sister, auntie etc. But I’m calling it, so do not be surprised on August 4th. Hopefully the ladies will resolve their major differences and we will all live happily ever after.
Some people like facial hair and others do not. It makes a difference I guess if you have to come into contact with it. Thankfully HJ loves it and has never complained even when I have gone for the Stanley Cup Play-Off style beard.
Mum however has not been Bearded Bobby’s biggest fan. Anything longer than a millimetre and Mum’s fading eyes miraculously spark into action even on the webcam, and a new shaving kit is ordered. When I make it back to Leeds and there is a welcome home kiss or a farewell kiss on my departure, I’m forced to pucker my lips out as far as possible to avoid any major bristly contact.
So you can see my dilemma and there is a compromise to be reached. I can hereby confirm that there will be facial hair on August 4th, albeit a shadow, nothing too bristly, but enough. Nothing too outrageous, but I am calling it now.
Shaving and trimming can be a pain sometimes, but I much prefer the facial hair to baby face. I remember being 13-years-old and sprouting my first little fury moustache, and finally plucking the courage to shave it off one day under the supervision of my dad and sister. They were ever so forthcoming in their help and advice, and suggested the use of after shave immediately after. So kind and thoughtful as they are.
Back at school, I was one of the most developed in a hairyfying sense. Nothing too monkey like, but I was one of the youngest to have hairs on my legs (apart from one unfortunate girl), and rather than revel in my maturity and masculinity, I always found it a little embarrassing. As soon as school broke up for summer back in 1994, I sat in the bath and impulsively decided to shave my legs. I thought it may make me look slicker, maybe run a little faster on the football pitch. And if I looked like a complete fool, I had six weeks to grow something back. Nobody warned me of the science behind shaving and that it tends to grow back faster.
I guess most kids go through this kind of stuff. The irony is that we are often desperate to get rid of it when we are younger and we are desperately clinging on to it when we grow older. Having a hair-challenged dad, I have asked two hairdressers in the last couple of years as to whether they think I will lose mine, and both have said not. Thankfully, I followed Dad’s advice for the aftershave, but got mum’s genes there.
So as I am reaching my prime, I am aiming for a happy medium and going for just a little facial hair, nothing drastic and nothing that will cause any facial rashes to any unsuspecting wife, mum, sister, auntie etc. But I’m calling it, so do not be surprised on August 4th. Hopefully the ladies will resolve their major differences and we will all live happily ever after.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Strawberry Fields
There are a number of negatives to living away from home, but the hardest and saddest thing about coming back to Leeds is forcing myself to walk past Greggs Bakery and their sausage rolls. They are immense, and anybody reading this who has yet to have one, has not lived.
Our wedding is a big motivator for me to lose weight. I was motivated last summer to do so, and I am focused on doing the same and getting in even better shape this summer. That Lockhart Boss suit has to look good. Looking in the mirror is another one. I don’t quite have that sideways view of a pregnant lady, but it could be better and after a couple of weeks training, I can see the improvements and that is a huge motivator to keep going.
Forcing myself to walk past Greggs is brutal though. Cutting out the alcohol for a few months is fine, sure I’ll treat myself occasionally, but there are some foods like these infamous sausage rolls that tempt me.
I have always enjoyed my food, but I guess unless you have those perfect genes, you have to watch what you eat more the older you get. It may be hard to believe but I was like a stick until I hit twenty years old. I would go to the gym when I was 15-16 years old and trying to lift weights, and it was so demoralising to see my little arms gain nothing. It was only when I was introduced to alcohol did I show signs of putting weight on, and then when I started cooking for myself at university did I start putting weight on. It was only a few years later did I actually learn that the ratio between the effort required for putting weight on and losing it was not equal.
Thankfully I have always liked fruit. Virtually every fruit and vegetable so that is a bonus. HJ and I have eaten a ridiculous number of mangos and strawberries in the past month. I have yet to meet somebody who has told me that they do not like strawberries….i am not even sure that person exists, but I would like to talk to them if so. Sprouts are fair enough, but strawberries? I just feel there is something clinically wrong if you do not like them.
HJ and I have committed to doing a marathon this year. The thought of that is as brutal as not eating a sausage roll from Greggs in 2011, but we will give it a shot. There are a number of fun marathons, but I’ve got my eye on Las Vegas in December – hint hint Burns. It is my birthday after all. The challenge of a marathon is huge but I am determined to do one…another motivating factor alongside the wedding to get in great shape. Then, I’ll fly back to the UK, buy 4 sausage rolls for £2 and fly back to wherever we are living.
Our wedding is a big motivator for me to lose weight. I was motivated last summer to do so, and I am focused on doing the same and getting in even better shape this summer. That Lockhart Boss suit has to look good. Looking in the mirror is another one. I don’t quite have that sideways view of a pregnant lady, but it could be better and after a couple of weeks training, I can see the improvements and that is a huge motivator to keep going.
Forcing myself to walk past Greggs is brutal though. Cutting out the alcohol for a few months is fine, sure I’ll treat myself occasionally, but there are some foods like these infamous sausage rolls that tempt me.
I have always enjoyed my food, but I guess unless you have those perfect genes, you have to watch what you eat more the older you get. It may be hard to believe but I was like a stick until I hit twenty years old. I would go to the gym when I was 15-16 years old and trying to lift weights, and it was so demoralising to see my little arms gain nothing. It was only when I was introduced to alcohol did I show signs of putting weight on, and then when I started cooking for myself at university did I start putting weight on. It was only a few years later did I actually learn that the ratio between the effort required for putting weight on and losing it was not equal.
Thankfully I have always liked fruit. Virtually every fruit and vegetable so that is a bonus. HJ and I have eaten a ridiculous number of mangos and strawberries in the past month. I have yet to meet somebody who has told me that they do not like strawberries….i am not even sure that person exists, but I would like to talk to them if so. Sprouts are fair enough, but strawberries? I just feel there is something clinically wrong if you do not like them.
HJ and I have committed to doing a marathon this year. The thought of that is as brutal as not eating a sausage roll from Greggs in 2011, but we will give it a shot. There are a number of fun marathons, but I’ve got my eye on Las Vegas in December – hint hint Burns. It is my birthday after all. The challenge of a marathon is huge but I am determined to do one…another motivating factor alongside the wedding to get in great shape. Then, I’ll fly back to the UK, buy 4 sausage rolls for £2 and fly back to wherever we are living.
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