Operation Bridesmaid: fitness for the summer

The bane of every bridesmaid's life

Today I am brimming with feel good endorphins, which can only mean one thing: Operation Bridesmaid (hereafter OB) has commenced.

OB is something I have been planning for a while. I am to be my sister’s bridesmaid in July and, as is typical of a lot of women, I am determined to look my best in the nipped-in-at-the-waist dress we settled on for myself and the other two bridesmaids.

Bought back in January, the dresses looked great (even if I do say so myself). But still, on getting back to Cardiff at the end of the Christmas break, I vowed to hit the gym to give myself plenty of time to get fit and toned for the big day (would you listen to me, I sound as if it’s my wedding).

But as is often the case, other things began to take precedence. I study the PG dip in magazine journalism and first there were exams, then there were two weeks of coursework deadlines, and before I knew it I was at the end of, an admittedly hardcore, term.

Spring had sprung and I was still sat on my backside

The spring daffodils were out and OB had been left languishing in the recesses of my mind, the area reserved for thoughts about deep-cleaning the bathroom and throwing out all the socks in my drawer which aren’t part of a pair. In short, the “I’ll get round to it soon” section, I’m sure you all have an equivalent.

Again, my plans were destined to be put on hold. I had three weeks away from Cardiff doing work experience and since I find it hard to maintain a exercise routine I am already commited to when away from home, the chances of me starting a new one were about as high as the Bank of England’s interest rates.

I was in despair, “I am never going to tone up and get rid of this study belly,” thought I. But every cloud has a silver lining: two weeks of my work experience were in the Men’s Health offices in London. A fortnight surrounded by buff men who eat, sleep and drink (literally, they are massively into their protein shakes) exercise. Surely that would leave me feeling even worse about my lack of fitness and nutritionally challenged diet?

Well, it did, but in a good way. As I scoured the forums on the website looking for article ideas, and subbed copy telling readers, “How to get a six-pack in six weeks,” the fitness furor began to permeate. A part of me which had lain dormant for too long shook itself awake. That’s right, my inner fitness fanatic.

I began to get ridiculously frustrated by the fact I could not workout and looked for small changes I could make while in London (the day I powered up the 193 steps at Covent Garden tube station will stick in my mind for a while, or rather the state of me when I reached the top of them will).

I spoke to the fitness editor, Wesley Doyle, about my plight, explaining that I had once been a lean, mean, fighting machine from hours spent punching and kicking (I was in combat classes and kickboxing, not a secret member of Fight Club).

He very kindly told me not to worry, informed me that muscles have good memories, and said he would email me a programme to get back in shape and shed those excess inches in no time. I had to refrain from kissing him then and there.

I’ve been back in Cardiff for two days now and I have done the routine twice. It is based on using interval training which means I am not suffering too much from my depleted stamina and the short, sharp bursts replicate the kind of exercise I am used to with boxing classes.

I have been adding some weight training to the end and went out yesterday to buy lots of high protein foods which Wesley says is crucial to success. The major difference between this work out and what I used to do before is that it is best done in the morning, on an empty stomach after consuming two cups of green tea (to give a caffeine kick).

This is my one concern. I am fine at the weekend when I can get up leisurely and mentally prepare myself for the onslaught but how will I fare during the week getting up at the crack of dawn to head to the gym before uni? I’m told the first few times are the worst and then my body will start to adjust, let’s hope so.

I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

 

Restored: my faith in (London) humanity

Oh that wonderful maze

This morning my faith in humanity was restored. I’m not sure why I say restored, it never really went away, but when I told people two weeks ago I was going to London for the first time ever, I was cautioned and warned about how unfriendly the people were. This obviously followed the initial step back in amazement that at the age of 24 I had never been to the capital before. As I said at the time though, I’ve never needed to go.

Anyway, fast forward a fortnight and I am lugging my suitcase up the steps at Piccadilly Circus. I have already lost the novelty enthusiasm I had for the tube at the beginning of my stay and I am wondering why my suitcase always feels heavier on the way home, even though I categorically have not bought anything new (trust me, I don’t have the funds).

Note: not the actual Piccadilly Circus steps, used for dramatic effect

Two steps up and I see someone to the side of me pause, take their music out their ears and ask, “Would you like some help with that?” Do I look suitably peeved off and say for the sake of feminism (the volunteer is a middle-aged man) “Not at all, I have two arms and two legs and can carry my own suitcase just fine!”? Do I heck. I smile sweetly and say “Thank you very much that would be lovely.”

With my assent the gentleman hoists the case up (with one arm) and strides to the top of the steps while I look on in awe. Job done, he replaces the earphones and smiles goodbye as I thank him again for his assistance.

Now, the cynics among you may say, “Well you’re young and pretty,” (why thank you) “and that’s the only reason he helped you.” And in fact, that is exactly what my colleague did say when I waltzed into the office, full of the joys of spring and a lot less out of breath than I otherwise would have been.

Well, not exactly: “There must have been an ulterior motive,” says Ryan from Men’s Health when I recount my tale, “Humans are disgusting.” He has obviously lived in London for a lot longer than me. But I refuse my optimism to be dampened and endeavour to keep smiling for as long as possible.

Probably just as well I’m going back to Cardiff tonight then.

 

Wonderfully weird work experience: my “week” in a yurt

 

Alison sympathised and advised how to handle wood-burning stove

 

 

Day 5

 

Success! I don’t know why I wasn’t posting this first thing this morning… hang on, yes I do, I was snugly tucked up in my yurt and managed to sleep until 9.30am. Eat your hats cynics of mine.

 

So what did I do differently? Well, let’s be honest, none of it was rocket science, but it did take the sage advice of a year-round yurter to make my outdoor home more habitable. Enter Alison, who lives at the Cherry Wood Project in Bath and was kind enough to have a look at my humble abode yesterday afternoon.

 

Firstly, may I just say, I felt entirely vindicated by her astonishment that my yurt did not have insulation. “This is a summer camping yurt,” she exclaimed, “you’d be freezing at this time of year.”

“I was,” said I, “trust me I was.”

She also thought the fire rather small and the lack of ventilation a problem, “This is not good for you at all.” she tutted. Hallelujah, finally some sympathy and understanding.

 

So I asked her what I could do to make the best of a bad situation, obviously painting Nick as a Draconian boss in the process: she didn’t need to know that I had crawled into the house early Monday morning and refused to return to the yurt ever since.

 

Shockingly, her first piece of advice was to leave the door slightly ajar, “Are you mad?” I thought. But apparently not, the fire needs to draw oxygen in to keep it roaring and this also stops the yurt from becoming unbearably smokey.

 

Alison also suggested starting the fire much earlier in the day and keeping it burning throughout the evening. It seems I had not been tending my stove with the required dedication.

 

And I must admit, what a difference these small and seemingly innocuous measures made. While I would not say I was as comfortable as I would be indoors, and keeping in mind that I was wearing multiple layers again (although thankfully the hat and gloves were dropped), I did manage to sleep right through the night and upon waking at 7.20am thought it best to sleep for a couple more hours just to drive the point home to Nick and co. Late for work, my foot.

 

It makes me proud that I managed it but I don’t think I’ll be investing in a yurt (almost £3000 for a model like the one I’m staying in) any time soon.

 

Wonderfully weird work experience: my “week” in a yurt

 

Had an amazing 12hrs sleep last night!

Day 3

 

Ok, I admit it, I gave in and slept indoors last night. In my defence I was pretty ill and I think Nick and his wife (Tina) both took pity on me and thought it best if I didn’t sleep in the yurt.

 

Nick decided it would be an amusing twist if he slept in there instead, probably so he could prove the fact that I’m fast becoming a softened city girl. As I was moving my things up into the spare room I thought it would be a nice gesture to light the fire: we were all planning on toasting marshmallows after dinner.

 

And what a fire it was! An hour later we trooped out for some marshmallow dessert to find the yurt had turned into some kind of sauna. Needless to say, nobody believed how cold it had been the previous night and plenty of digs at the not-so-hardy Scottish girl ensued. Trust me, teasing from a 10 and 12 year old is not always easy to take!

 

The marshmallows were delicious and the yurt was positively toasty. But I was not going to be lured in, so headed upstairs to sleep in the spare room. 

 

12 hours later I woke having slept right through, just goes to show how much I needed the sleep (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it). 

 

Apparently Nick found the yurt perfectly comfortable and warm. Bearing in mind he gets up at 5am usually anyway, he said when he woke up at 4.30am the fire was still going: an entirely different kettle of fish to my stone-cold fire the morning before.

 

Also, the outside temperatures did not dip nearly so low last night, honest! Nip over to Nick’s blog to see his version of the events. 

 

Something tells me, sympathy exhausted, I’ll be out on my ear tonight. Farewell comfy bed!

 

Wonderfully weird work experience: my week in a yurt

It felt like I was somewhere like this!

Day 2

 

3.40am, I give up and practically sprint inside. I am so cold! It turns out the wood-burning stove is not sufficient to cope with the almost -2°c temperatures this morning.

 

I was wearing: jogging bottoms, thick wooly socks, t-shirt, cardigan, wooly gillet, thick wooly roll neck jumper, scarf, hat and gloves.

 

Nick had given me a 10tog duvet, a thick woolen blanket and a throw. But, in the bed was not a problem, it was actually quite warm in there, it was the cold air all around which by 3am was starting to permeate the cocoon I had fashioned for myself.

 

Luckily, Nick had left the house door open for me allowing for such an eventuality so as I dash across the (frost covered) lawn I know there will be a sofa waiting for me inside.

 

What I had forgotten was Treacle: the dog. Thankfully she just looked at me quizzically for a few seconds and, deciding against barking, let me get on with it. I must have looked too pathetic to be a burglar.

 

At least one thing came in handy – the earplugs I bought in anticipation of the noise in the yurt! This morning I didn’t even hear Nick’s family going about their day-to-day routine of getting ready for school and work. And I was so bundled up under my sleeping bag, no-one but the youngest (Sasha) realised I was there. All mutually entertaining once I did eventually wake up.

 

So I’m not sure what the game plan is tonight, I feel I owe it to the project to try again, plus I’m not a quitter! It could be warmer tonight and maybe if I am more diligent with my fire it will work more efficiently.

 

It’s good to know, however, that the option of a spare room is there if I need it.

 

Wonderfully weird work experience: my week in a yurt

 

A yurt in it's home land, Kyrgyzstan

 

 

Day 1   

Today I left Cardiff at 9am and drove to Ampney St Peter, Gloucestershire to start a week of work experience with a difference. I will be staying in a yurt for the week as a guinea pig for my boss and to see if it is bearable to sleep in one in the, frankly still freezing, weather conditions of late March in Britain.

Nick Gibbs is the editor-in-chief of Freshwood Publishing which publishes British Woodworking and Living Woods. When I asked him why I would be staying in a yurt he said “Cos I thought it would be funny.” Luckily for him I’ve got a good sense of humour and I am a country bumpkin at heart so I’m not adverse to a bit of rough living.

As I pulled up to the house at 11am (bear in mind it is a Sunday and not many placements will start on a Sunday) I was still feeling fluffy from Friday night’s end of term excesses. But the yurt man (Paul) had just arrived and so it was straight to work.  

The yurt frame is built using three interlocking wall sections, roof poles and a roof crown. Then a canvas skirt and roof cover are used to create the shelter. This design is based on the Kyrgyzstan model, which has steep sides to allow rainwater to run off more efficiently (I may well be thankful of this function by the end of the week). 

Numerous different knots were required to fit everything together securely, but luckily Paul is pretty expert and I took to it like a duck to water so the yurt was up within the hour.

A slice of locally made coffee and walnut cake (my favourite) and a cup of tea to celebrate and then we got down to making it homely inside.

Home sweet home: a lot hinges on this wood-burning stove

As you can see it didn’t take much to make my humble abode a little more comfortable and the wood-burning stove should make it nice and toasty.

On that note, I better go and stoke it up, otherwise getting to sleep tonight may be a little tough. I’ll let you know how I get on: apparently yurts act as great amplifiers of even the smallest noises, so I’ve got the earplugs at the ready.

Wish me luck! 

 

Great no-bake flapjack

A different take on a classic snack

 

 

Apricot and peanut butter flapjack

Two flavours you wouldn’t normally put togther, the sweet apricots complement the savoury peanut butter to create a chewy fruit and nut mixture with a twist.

 

Ingredients:

 

100g porridge oats

100g cornflakes

8 tablespoons golden syrup

100g brown sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla essence

6 tablespoons peanut butter

100g dried apricots

 

Preperation time: 15 minutes

Cooling time: 15 minutes

 

Method:

 

1. Heat the golden syrup and brown sugar in a pan over a medium heat until it just starts to boil.

2. Remove from the heat and mix the peanut butter and vanilla essence in until fully melted.

3. Put the porridge oats into a bowl.

4. Chop the dried apricots into small pieces and add to the bowl.

5. Crush the cornflakes roughly in your hands and add to the oats and apricots, mix well.

6. Pour the peanut butter and syrup mix over the dry ingredients, mix well.

7. Line a swiss roll tray with greaseproof paper and press the flapjack mixture into it with the palm of your hand.

8. Allow to cool and then cut into squares.

 

Top tip:

Be careful not to let the syrup and sugar mixture over-boil or it will burn.

To keep the flapjacks chewy wrap them in greaseproof paper and store in an air tight container.

 

Variation:

If you want extra crunch use crunchy peanut butter.

Rice crispies can be used instead of cornflakes and raisins can be used in place of dried apricots.

 

 

 

 

Has rugby chat turned bad? Players’ repsonses to the Six Nations so far

All brawn and no brain?

This afternoon Daily Mail Rugby Correspondent, Peter Jackson, talked to us at Cardiff Journalism Scool about how reporting on rugby has become increasingly difficult. One of the reasons for this, he acknowledged, can effect your chances of getting a scoop in any type of journalism.

That’s right, our old friend the world wide web has made it harder for honest and hard-working print journalists to break the news. But I’m not a fan of playing broken records.

Far more interesting, I thought, was Jackson’s second point. He said it was difficult to take a fresh angle on rugby stories since the sport had become professional. In the past rugby players would have spent their week days with their hands up a cow’s nether regions (vet) or with their hands squeezing a cow’s udders (farmer) or dealing with a dispute on how said cow had trampled a prize winning petunia (lawyer).

Ok, I jest, and mean no offence to any of the above professions. My point is, when rugby was an amatuer sport, the lads came from varying walks of life and had a certain abandandon in the way they answered questions. With professionalism, as Jackson said, has come conformity.

Press officers and team psychologists are employed to fill players’ heads with psycho-babble and spin. Meaning original responses to a question like, “How did you feel the game went on Saturday,” are slim to none.

So, in the interest of experimentation, I decided to find the five most inane sport-speak sentences following the weekend’s action in the IRB six nations. Here’s what I came up with:

1. The British Lions website featured Welsh captain Ryan Jones on how the team pulled off victory against England, “We knew we would have to work hard but we’ve got heart and passion and been through a lot together.” Awww bless.

2. BBC sport ran an article with Brian O’Driscoll’s highly perceptive (cue ironic font) analysis of their triumph over Italy, “We were patient and knew we would have to wait to break them down before taking our opportunities.”

3. A Scotsman article on the Scottish team’s match-day attitude included this platitude from back-row Alasdair Strokosch, “I do feel better about the championship now. I don’t think anyone’s come to France and won easily and we pushed them well.” As far as I recall there are no extra points for effort boys. 

4. Former England player turned Manager, Martin Johnson, fobbed off the Telegraph with this trite one liner, “The Test match was there for either side to win but they are the team with a bit more self-belief at the moment.”

5. Finally, from Jackson’s paper the Daily Mail, in an article written by Paul Sackey the English winger, “If we can get it all right I honestly think we could cause any team problems.” I think the same could be said for every team Sackey.

I’ve heard footballers are even worse for giving token answers, so let me know if you come across any.

 

5 ways to stay motivated in the gym past January

At times it feels like a hard slog (pic courtesy of ~ggvic~ flickr CC)

With January drawing to a close, many of you who had the best intentions to get fit and stay fit in 2009 will start to find motivation is dwindling. But this is the most important time to stick with it. Often, it takes six weeks before results start to show. So here are five boosts which got me through previous slumps.

1. Change your music

People often have a playlist or favourite album they like to listen to while working out. But do you remember the first time that certain song came on while you were pumpin’ those legs on the bike or cross trainer and it made you move a little faster or push a little harder? Well sooner or later it’s going to stop having that effect because you will become immune and instead of a positive association you will start to think, “Oh that’s the song I work out to.” Put your ipod on shuffle and you’ll be surprised. Some of the tunes you never would have picked have a great beat to work out to.

2. Use the programmes on the machines

It sounds simple enough but the amount of people I see who keep cardio machines on the same level for 20-30 minutes is mind-boggling. No wonder they are uninspired. First of all there’s no variety in their workout. Of course your body and mind are going to get bored if you ask them to do the same repetitive movement at roughly the same speed for 20 minutes or more. If you use the programmes, then the session is usually broken down into more manageable chunks. I particularly like interval training on the bike and cross-trainer. This alternates between periods of lower intensity but faster movement and periods of higher intensity and slightly slower movement. It is good if you challenge yourself to try and maintain your speed as the intensity increases. Chances are you won’t manage it but you will get your heart rate up in the attempt. Studies have shown that using interval training is good for the heart because it encourages it to use the less intense minutes to recover and then fires the heart rate right back up again. Using interval training can also be a good way of decreasing the time of your session because you will find it more tiring than maintaining one single speed so you increase your heart rate and burn more calories in a shorter time frame.

3. People watch

It’s interesting to observe other people when you are at the gym. Everyone has their own agenda. There are the types who pretend they are so focused on their targets they don’t notice anyone else; chances are they are using the mirrors to scope out fellow gym members while at the same time obsessing over how they look. There are those who are more than a little pervy; they try and catch your eye whilse they pump their guns or inadvertently flex a tricep. Next there are those who read a magazine or newspaper; usually they become so engrossed in what they are reading they forget what they are there for, with the result that they rarely break out in a sweat. Finally, there are my sort of people; those who observe others in a non-creepy way and make up little stories featuring them in their heads. It is even more fun if you can combine two athletes in the same story and pretend you are on to their sordid little secret.

4. Be competitive

With yourself, with the girl rowing next to you, with the machine. Whatever it takes to bring out the competitor in you, grab hold and let it take over. Don’t bother observing all those faux niceties and manners of gym etiquette. If someone is running beside you make sure you run faster, harder and for longer. Failing that, at least look better doing it than she does. Give yourself constant targets, “Next time I’ll work off 50 more calories.” But don’t focus on one measurement, if you usually go until you’ve reached a certain distance alter the challenge slightly. And don’t think you are the only one with this mentality, trust me, no matter how calm, cool and collected she appears to be, she is trying to beat you just as much.

5. Go to classes

This feeds off the same energy as point four. In most gym halls or dance studios there are mirrors, which mean you can see everyone else and can see how much effort they are putting in. Alter your effort/coordination/closeness to the instructor accordingly. Become a gym boffin. Make sure you get prime position behind the instructor and that you are hitting all those combinations in-sync, and with as much energy as she is. Use the group (or should I say pack) mentality to push yourself. You don’t want ‘Tanorexic’ to the right of you to think she has more stamina do you?

 

I hope these offer some inspiration. Let me know what you think or if you have any tips of your own: I’m always looking for ways to get through the workout grind.

 

Capture Cardiff: How the Castle Arcade is coping in recession

Castle Arcade during what should have been the Christmas rush.

Since the start of the year we have seen a gap left in many high streets with the closure of Woolworths, one of Britain’s oldest and best known chain stores. The Pier home furnishings is another casualty of the recession, along with MFI homestores and Whittard of Chelsea, the tea and coffee merchants.

The economic downturn gripping the country is certainly having an affect on many high street retailers. As we saw from the decision by Marks & Spencer to cut over one thousand jobs, no brand is immune.

Cardiff’s under-cover arcades have formed part of the city’s charm for over a century. Full of unique boutiques and specialist stores, the arcades provide visitors and residents with an enchanting alternative to the bland brands found all over Britain.

A shot of the arcade from the first floor balcony.

Rented or owned by independent retailers, what you won’t see in these shop windows are perpetual sale signs. Unable to compete with the high street’s slashing of prices and brash declarations of discounts; shopkeepers in the arcades have to hope customer loyalty, and the fact they offer something a little different, will be enough.

Castle Arcade, so named because its entrance is directly opposite Cardiff Castle, is one of the most popular of these retail gems. Built in 1887, the Victorian arcade maintains many of its original features, producing an ambience of luxury.

On entering Castle Arcade the first thing to strike you is a conspicuous absence of chain stores. Pizza Express is the one blot on the copybook. But since it occupies a store stretching right back to St Mary Street, the front door is not within the arcade.

Instead of Starbucks there is Comfortably Numb coffee shop. Claire Grove Buttons offers something more than Claire’s Accessories and Troutmark Books has far more character than WHSmith.

Karen (Madame Fromage) and her family make most of their menu from scratch. This leads to some early mornings!

Madame Fromage is a family run delicatessen, which found its home in Castle Arcade over three years ago. Karen Cummington, 48, the shop owner, is aiming to give the business an online shopping facility, providing customers with a checkout much like the one at tesco.com.

In Karen’s line of trade it is these large supermarkets which pose the greatest threat: “They are killing people like me, I wish they’d stay away from the specialist areas. It’s unfair really, they should leave people like me to the niche market, they have got to be stopped.”

Unfortunately, in these purse-tightening times, customers are taking the price of goods into account far more. Karen has noticed a difference in the type of items regulars will plump to buy: “More expensive items just aren’t moving because people are not prepared to spend the money. Some people don’t come as often to us.”

She felt in the run up to Christmas, while the high street was buzzing, her arcade was strangely empty. In a time which would traditionally have been their busiest, shopkeepers were chatting daily about their worries and who was the latest to go under.

Two shops along Heidi Davies, 42, owns Funky Monkey Feet, a children’s shoe shop. She too has noticed a difference in consumer attitudes: “Everybody wants a discount, before it was only really cheeky people who would ask. They still want the product and have the urge to spend but they just haven’t got the money.”

Chain stores have played a big role in mindset changes. Since people see sales in all their high street favourites, they expect them to be everywhere. But independent retailers have their overheads to think about and often sell many different products of better quality, which they cannot afford to mark down.

Heidi gets a lot of her stock from Europe so the declining value of the pound has also had an affect on her margins. Energy bills are higher than last year and fewer leniencies from suppliers have led to a tightening of her belt: “As my bank manager told me, all you can do is work more in order to pay less.” Heidi works seven days a week.

Heidi from Funky Monkey Feet has felt the pressure to put on sales.

City Surf has been open for 24 years. Darren Evans, 47, manager of the shop, thinks one way of combating sale-mania would be to follow France’s example and put laws in place to limit how often they can be held: “January sales used to be January sales, now they [large chain stores] do them whenever they want.”

In truth, as we slide head-long into recession, consumers are refusing to be drawn in by sales gimmicks. This week the British Retail Consortium released a report showing December 2008 had the sharpest falling sales figures on record.

In this climate independents are bound to suffer. But the arcades in Cardiff have passed the test of time thus far. Shopkeepers in touch with what their customers want, and who are willing to make changes, have every chance of weathering the storm.

The rest may not be so lucky.

Empty spaces: each of the retailers had stories of friends forced out of business.

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Slideshow link