A month full of promise
In an auction for a school I have won 3 fitness coaching sessions with a professional instructor AND a Management training day (apparently worth 3K – so my first decision to bid low was a good one). Unfortunately I was outbid on a session with a psychiatrist assessing mental health, which was the one I was really after.
I can’t resist seeing into other people’s worlds but I may be about to find out a harsh lesson. The fitness training is with a professional rugby union coach.
Now I dipped out of rugby at the age of 11 when my build condemned me to being a tighthead prop. This induced both claustrophobia and a fear of people crouching down biting, squeezing and punching me for no discernible reason. In my view Rugby Union was fat boys playing catch (line stolen from Bradley Walsh) so this could be a meeting of minds in no sense of the phrase.
I have promised Didsbury Wife I will return with pecs like Jason Bourne and neck like a bridge support, face like Iggle Piggle and knees that will be creaking like rusty doors but can take a pounding from a hooker (so to speak). Maybe I should do the management coaching first to learn how to deal with the situation.