Observation: Humans and their foibles

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Sports Injury AKA Is This My Body Saying, “Juju, Maybe This Recent Fad of Regular Training Isn’t Really You?”

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4cm wide internal bruise on right calf and the blogger hobbles.

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Going for a late evening mini jog last week caused a sports injury to yours truly. Nothing severe mind you. A sensation of sudden ‘pinging’ inside the leg, akin to something being brushed harshly on outside of right calf.

Diagnosis: Right calf injury, 4cm internal bruise, aka rupture of the gastrocnemius or soleus muscle (without Google I wouldn’t be quoting these words in this manner, guilty and fine about it).

What am I to do without regular twice-sometimes-thrice-weekly sessions alongside sweaty alpha males Please see earlier blog on boxing if you have no idea what I am harking on about, for fear this may sound a little bit like I am regularly partaking in nawty nocturnals to cope in recession – a thought that is starting to be taken more seriously (internally). No big deal, right?

While they’re not getting laid, aren’t footballers laid up for weeks with serious injuries? Difference is, they have servants serving / kneeding / pampering.

So OK, we had been suffering for some days, but really not taking it seriously. Just under a week later, I take myself to All Stars for my fix, do the warm up, do the pads and then it’s skip skipping time…not an intelligent move. That ‘pang’ feeling happened again, rather akin to the sound of a spring popping in a mattress…Properly hurt, found some ice, tried to stand on it, not happening.  Apparently my face was ‘pale grey’ and I looked like I was about to pass out – hobbled back, having decided not to take the car to class that evening. An ironic rarity.

Frozen peas, elevated leg and spasming through body. Had been advised to do the peas, elevation thing three days earlier and had ignored.

Lovely new friend Aimee di Marco is a doctor at St Mary’s – we met through boxing and she witnessed my faint visage…said she would organise an ultrasound scan. Love useful friends – a bonus.

The next day was ruled out for a visit to A&E due to a ‘filming’ day with a friend who is trying to get a documentary idea commissioned by heads of TV on a miracle worker.  Said miracle worker with angel wings is Gali, who makes wigs and sadly I have met her after my mother recently underwent chemotherapy..., no way I was going to cancel the day, a lady with alopecia since the age of 12 for hers, and the angel herself…So I was a wobbly and moaning assistant for the day, with spasming through my body head-to-toe, simultaneously experiencing out-of-body occurrences, with no drug assistance.

The following morning, fabulous Nikki (aka Nikki Busmate) collected and transported to St Mary’s. Great service with a smile and I was discharged, being told to rest up and carry on popping ibuprofen and no sport for at least two weeks. Doctor buddy Aimee said not to leave the premises. SHO Damian kept running to the waiting room in his busy day, updating me on availability of scanner and I was treated impeccably – Bupa-style-service-on-the-freebie health service- thoroughly recommendable.

By 1pm I was limping up to 3rd floor with Damian leading the way (trained perfectly by Aimee) to Dr Dick – and kneeled elegantly on all fours with gel being smoothed over achilles and calf. It was then that we were informed of internal bloody huge bloody bruise. Fortunately no tear, no crutches and big special needs black boot with velcro required.

Still spasming, still house-bound, but we are taking slow steps to recovery. Friends are delivering groceries. Am slowly observing an out-of-body realization; not sure training is what body is aching for. How about I start training in the same way as I drive, visualising toned bod as I visualise parking spaces.

(Boxing boys I’ll be back soon).

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Observation: humans and their foibles

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Is Recession Chic Making Us Nicer?

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If London PR girls are joining forces, this has to mean something good is happening, right?

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Since Tuesday at 6pm, my mind has been newly blessed with a medley of post-event positive thoughts and musings about the current state of world affairs. Having been part of the ‘Fashion PR World’ and its shenanigans for a decade, cynicism has often been a tad high on the list when pondering the PR industry. It appears that what with the current goings-on in the economy and the financial downturn on all things pricey and frivolous, the ego seems to have been miraculously left to the side. The overall atmosphere amongst those in similar trades has been enhanced and teamwork, partnerships and co-operatives seem to be on the rise. A true sign of the times.

On Tuesday, I joined forces with two PR agencies MLPR and Iroquois PR, for a seasonal press day. Both Marie Louise and Catherine Morris head up successful agencies specialising in fashion and accessories both on a luxury and high street level.

So MLPR, JRPR and Iroquois all joined together and displayed their clients’ wares, from 9am until 6pm at Jalouse, on Hanover Square (yours truly came in last and really has to thank the others for sourcing such a fab venue) in London’s W1 and the turn-out was all a highly strung freelance PR chick could have wished for. Editorial teams from the majority of the UK top glossies turned up, including Elle, Glamour, Vogue, Grazia, Harper’s Bazaar and Brides poured through the doors. Clients included Amore & Baci jewellery who launched the Teen Collection to the world, well after the BaselWorld presentation last month, Orit Jewellery, Apartment C , Beyond Skin, Christopher Raeburn, Wilbur & Gussie, Lucas Jack, Brazelle and many more.

The press arrived and didn’t seem to want to leave; such a great sign as there were a lot of press days happening all over the city the same day. Champagne could have been a factor…another great sign too, no advertisers were there, yet still the press came to see what we had to offer. Clients seemed delighted and it is just so refreshing to have one’s faith restored in an industry that is often so tainted with negative energy from the outside and within, on a purely superficial level of course.

Girls in business should stick together more often.

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Observation: humans and their foibles

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Do nice Girls Go Boxing? (Well, I think so)

All Girls Out There Please Listen Up! I have some wisdom to share…

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Do you know about the fitness / training regime whereby weight-loss and toning is almost immediate? A two-hour work-out where your body actually changes shape and tones your natural form exactly how you want it to? Add that to the unadulterated chemical-free high and pure pleasure from punching the life out of a bag or smacking a pair of pads held in front of you by a hot dude! And one more thing – any irritable angst / annoying niggle you’ve felt during the day is simultaneously released, pretty much on impact.

Boxing, with circuit training to boot, is where it’s at girls.

AKA: Boxing is the new yoga – no mumbo jumbo, no psycho-babble – we are so over sitting cross-legged and contemplating our pristine and overly exfoliated navels – just let it out and vent!

What a marvellous way to end a day at work – whether you work at home (a sanity boost for freelancers) or at the office, just let it all out. (Also, FYI, not a bad idea to visualise someone’s face who has irritated you in your working day – those jabs are SO much more powerful when you do this!!).

Since discovering boxing as a twice/thrice weekly 2-hour session, I have found myself to be calmer, less uptight, a friendlier person (on the roads and to my family) and sleep is definitely deeper.

Boxing is of course hugely positive in boosting a girl’s confidence and her self-defense reactions.

No complaints either from being in extreme proximity to (straight) sweaty, well-built alpha males (being the minority sex in class is fabulous too, and a rarity at a yoga or ‘legs, bums, blah blah’ class at the gym).

Forget psychoanalysis, psycho-babble, self-help; get a bag, some gloves, don’t forget the wrist straps, and practice that jab.

Q: How did I get into boxing?

A: Always have had a ‘lock’ at the back of my shoulder, literally behind my heart; pain, but not excruciating – hauntingly dormant. In times of stress and tension, it spoke out in pain, almost like my subconscious in times of angst. After years of massage, yoga, swimming, jogging, acupuncture, you name it I have tried it to release the pain, it was not until I visited an Osteopath (Byron Spiers) who, after two sessions of trying to snap and twist my body, load it with needles, was professional, candid and succinct.

His diagnosis: the complaint was not treatable with any form of massage or indeed my beloved yoga, and not to spend any more money or time on these therapies – ‘Juliet you just need to let it all out and take up high impact exercise’.

I spent a month researching a host of local (and not so local) boxing schools. I finally found All Stars, Harrow Road. A truly wonderful bunch of guys run the joint, take an interest in all the students and are making their voice heard for the 2010 Olympics.  Skipping, weights, mat-work, circuit training also thrown in.

Let your anger out and forget the OM-ing.

In this world of ipods and laptops, reality TV and box-sets, it so refreshing to have social interaction and physical contact during recreational sport.

A full work-out; for the mind, the body, and the soul. Euphoria immediately afterwards.

1. Physical change – Noticeable changes to the body in record time, incredible results
2. Utter focus – no time for losing concentration otherwise you get hit!
3. Release and unleashing of tension like no other sport (it personally healed a ‘lock’ in the back of my shoulder)
4. Many boxing clubs now let women join the classes, as equals (irritating to certain males am sure)
5. Improvement of sleep
6. Inexpensive: just need to buy straps and gloves and that is it, no special footwear required
7. Good for gaining confidence, literally and psychologically, as a woman for self-defense, and good to be surrounded by sweaty (straight) men
8. Great to learn how to perfect your technique, there is an art to perfecting your jabs and improve your style
9. It’s fun!
10. Women Box for Britain! For the first time, women have been invited to box for their country, in the 2012 Olympics.

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Observation: humans and their foibles

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“The Body Never Lies”, Martha Graham

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Is this the adult version of The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole?

(listen to your Prana goddamit!)

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This is a true story; there was something going on, within, and I had no idea what it was. This is not mumbo jumbo. Trust me.

On a balmy morning, mid-week, mid-March and feeling ever so middle-of-the-road, a ‘voice’ was shouting out from inside and forcing me to listen. If you can picture the following: I’m alone, not nuts (yet), it’s intangible, it feels good, I’m sober, not hungry, pretty relaxed and content.

I’m not ranting about DAB radio and my new daily  XFM religion, nor about the whistling kettle (never liked ultra-modern home apps), nor the landline whose ringtone I’ve never got on with, nor my neighbour’s electric drum-kit above my head (no lie).

I took a few breaths, let my system ‘be’ and breathed calmly.

Observation: humans and their foibles

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Did you know that you don’t need to be a teenager to have a crush on a singer-songwriter?

(Well, it was news to me last Tuesday)

On the third Tuesday of the third month of this year, ie. March 16, 2010, something happened. In spite of the fact I am actually blushing as I write this, I have an overwhelming urge to share this. I am about to admit something that makes me cringe like a school girl.

(Hey, I have chosen to bare all and publish a blog in order to do my bit with the zeitgeist and keep up with the Joneses – online and across the globe – N.B., not the Joneses with the B&Q picket fence, ensconced in suburbia).

I got a crush, a real-life teenage crush that had me running around my flat (yes, I am a freelancer in case, heaven forbid, you are not up-to-date with mon blog, mon existence, mon nonsense) and it doesn’t take much for one to go a little nuts when excitement bursts onto the airwaves within the confines of my four walls.

What excitement could possibly be taking place in my kitchen just before 9;10am on Radio 2 on the fairly new Chris Evans show? I was half listening, half making tea and somewhere in the middle of both these halves, was endeavouring to be proactively making a stab at client work. I felt it in my gut. The ‘it’ we long to feel again, that has been diluted over the years, whether through cynicism, becoming a grown-up, or the slow realisation that life is not what Hollywood has thrown down our throats. Take my intense and long crush on Tom Cruise at the age of 14, for example. Say no more…

JR

I looked on my reliable DAB radio screen to see whose voice this angel in human form belonged to. Who was making me react so intensely? The screen said Joshua Radin.

Have you heard his voice and his lyrics? Please check him out and report back.

There was something very much Simon & Garfunkel going on in the air. Silky velvety smooth melodious harmonies. Something in this guy’s tone made me feel dreamy and I was suddenly transported out of the urban kitchen to a tropical destination with nothing to do but chill in a hammock. Also verging on folk actually .

There was a pang in my gut that was reminiscent of the first time I heard Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight. I was 12 at the time. I had fallen in love with a voice. I became so focused that my brain hurt. My tummy also had a pain in it; interestingly, it was a familiar pang. It had been years since I had been emotionally and almost spiritually uplifted, with a complete change of mood, by a musician, however just for a moment, I have to acknowledge my unfailing loyalty to one of the greatest musicians du jour, in my opinion, Nitin Sawhney. Nitin – please don’t think I am being unfaithful to you.

You know what though? I have been accused of being lazy, a little bit of a space cadet, lacking the ability to focus on one thing at a time. Not on this particular morning! I began googling in such a frenzy, it was as though I’d just had a glimpse of the Messiah.

FYI, a lot of Radin’s music features during some of the intense scenes on those addictive TV series Grey’s Anatomy and Scrubs. Those incredible gut-wrenching teary moments in Grey’s that had moved me so much a couple of summers ago were partly down to the music and I hadn’t thought to move from the sofa find out who was singing / had written the lyrics.

In the midst of googling, youtube-ing etc etc, I had found out Josh (we’re familiar now…) was going to be LIVE AND IN MY CITY on April 8th. To fully explain the elation I experienced when I found this out is impossible (I am now the proud owner of two tickets!!). When a girl wants something, she gets it. Simple.

Josh – if you’re reading this, I promise not to stalk you by the stage door at the Shepherds Bush Empire in a couple of weeks.

Feedback is most welcome for those of you who have got to the end of Insight #6 and have graced your ears with Radin’s music.

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Observation: humans and their foibles

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“To keep the body in good health is a duty… otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear”, Buddha

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Facing the outside world for the first time at urmm 3:30pm today, I was awoken with the desire to indulge fully and completely with today’s ‘Insight’ and incorporate more of a spiritual tone. Ogling other sapiens at such a late stage on an intermittently sunny / sleety / moody / bright Friday afternoon (still daytime mind you), what struck me was the paramount importance of having a daily ritual – and sticking to it – especially when living the life of a freelancer.

Existing as a freelancer for over six years now, often without a routine if I am not working on an inhouse project or without a morning meeting in the diary, I have often feared for the state of my daily existence on a daily basis! I am secretly confident that many in a similar situation will agree with this.

With both the rise of the laptop and the resignation of so many professionals from corporate life, aka ‘getting out quick’, not forgetting the SJP ‘cool sitting on the bed with laptop’ factor, this lack of daily routine must be rife right now.

I truly believe that a routine is vital. It is vital for the brain to stay alert, to think creatively, to maintain an an existence on an even keel, or as even as is possible. Freelancers out there need to get out of bed at the same time everyday, virtually visualise that they have an office job to go to, and dress as presentably as is possible (without going overboard). It is so easy to cut short the morning ritual and vaguely brush teeth and ‘go’.

Feeling good on the outside HAS to affect the inside. Self-preservation is key and when it slowly slips away, we are swiftly in a damn fine mess.

A routine is in fact fundamental for sanity, for happiness, for consistency, for productivity, for our mental health. We actually like ourselves a lot more when we have routine. For the irreligious amongst us, there is something to be said for customs, traditions and habits. For if anything, they fill a void when loneliness strikes and one just can’t seem to get their day going.

As Buddha said, eons before there were anti-social electronic toys to hide behind, we need to keep our bodies in good health for a clear mind. This is our duty to ourselves (and our long-suffering families and friends).

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Observation: humans & their foibles

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TLC: As vital as breathing……

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I like to think I have someone sussed (in relatively no time at all if I am perfectly honest with you).

Whether it is the way someone holds themselves, the way they dress, the way they shake hands, the tone of their voice, how they make – or don’t make – eye contact, just like a horse my blinkered assumptions leave no room for manoeuvring.

Loath as I am to over-dramatise on humans and their strange nuances, is it just me or does everyone assume everything about another human within a nano-second of meeting them? Actually, forget meeting them, merely spotting them for the first time?

Take the lady I met on the street this afternoon, standing outside her tiny garden centre. She looked as though the weight of the world was perched atop her shoulders.  Just something that was both gut-wrenching to witness and simultaneously, made the pit of my tummy ache to find out more.

Her eyes had a hardness and sadness, and her body seemed weathered and unloved. Why did she look so much older than were most surely her years? Something had burdened her, worn her down, gradually leaving her hollow to the core and I needed to speak to her.  I just wasn’t going to do the spineless British thing and walk away and pretend nothing much was happening.

Curiously, approaching Tessa seemed like the simplest thing to do in the world. She was warm and open and didn’t seem to mind the intrusion; rather welcomed it in fact. As soon as I patted her incredibly amicable dog, she looked up and the sadness that was veiling her eyes only a moment ago, lifted with such immediacy I was spellbound.

All at once, she became animated and girly, youthful and chatty.

There is a lump in my throat and my voice wobbles as we say goodbye.

So many of us, sharing the same space, each with zillions of never-ending thoughts, needs, desires – fulfilled and unfulfilled.

Like all of us, Tessa needed a little tender loving care and attention.

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