Rome

I could have been mistaken for being a pilgrim this weekend  as I headed to the focal point of the European Easter celebrations, the city of Rome. I didn't realise how early Easter fell this year when I booked a mini break to the Italian capital city over the bank holiday weekend. Surprisingly the flights were not too extortionate so I had no forewarning until I started to search for accommodation. I had failed to factor in the school break or the bank holiday.

I began to panic when the accommodation I had been recommended was full and could not think of any other B&Bs or hotels they would suggest; that was until a friend mentioned airbnb.com. I had heard of the service although for some reason had not considered it. Now as I sit in my airy, centrally located apartment I can safely say I've been missing a trick. I was welcomed by the friendly owner who gave me a thorough tour of her beloved apartment, talked me through a detailed itinerary she had compiled and then presented me with some homemade heart shaped brownies.

When I was younger, as a family we would attend the Easter service at our local church but sadly those days have long gone. Spending Sunday in Rome, it was hard not to reflect on the religious reasons behind a celebration that now seems more about eating a lot of chocolate than the resurrection of Christ. I avoided the Vatican for fear of the enormous crowds but visited a couple of smaller churches where I enjoyed the opportunity to reflect. You'll be relieved to hear I didn't miss out on the chocolate either. When I returned to the apartment, tired from a day of walking, I discovered an Easter egg had been generously left by my host.

Back it up

There are a few necessities that we cannot survive without and certain luxuries that some of us think we cannot live without. I hate to admit this but my mobile phone falls into the latter category. I was left in a state of panic in Egypt last week when my phone was stolen whilst working at the Pentathlon World Cup.
I’m aware how lucky I have been with all my travels over the years and until last week I hadn’t lost anything of value. After ringing my number I soon realised it had been turned off by the guilty thief and therefore wasn’t traceable using GPS. The impressive technology doesn’t end there though; I discovered I was able to lock and disable my phone remotely whilst leaving a pleading message for its return. The sad part is that the phone is now of no use to anyone and all the information that was only useful to me has been lost. The message I sent obviously didn’t appeal to anyone’s conscience and now it’s too late as I’m back in the UK.
Thankfully technology helped me to survive and bridge the phone less gap as I made use of the many messaging platforms available through my iPad, until I stepped off the plane and entered a wireless void on my journey home.  I managed twelve hours after landing before I succumbed to the pressure - I ‘had’ to splash out on a brand new iPhone 6. At least I can now relax as I feel connected to the world again. Frustratingly the factor limiting the technology is me, the user, as it turns out I last backed up the data on my phone seven months ago. The moral of this sorry tale: please learn from my mistake and back up your essential information now - before it’s too late.

Drama with the oval ball

Those partial to a bit of rugby have been spoilt over this past weekend. With commentators labelling it 'the most nail-biting climax they have ever seen' the final weekend of the Six Nations  proved to be full of excitement and drama. With the exception of Scotland, the remaining home nations all looked within reaching distance of the trophy at various stages on Saturday afternoon. First Wales won by a considerable margin over Italy to take the lead leaving Ireland and England with work to do. Next up Ireland made light work of Scotland to set the bar high but within England's reach.

At this point I should probably admit I actually only managed to watch the final game live and that was whilst in a restaurant in Egypt, a country that doesn't even know rugby is a sport. England came so agonisingly close before the realisation sank in that we hadn't quite done enough. I was then grateful to be in Africa and able to brush aside the disappointment.

I didn't think my nerves could take any more rugby related tension but then it happened all over again on Sunday. This time it was the LV Cup final between Exeter Chiefs and Saracens which I just about managed to follow via text updates. After a remarkable comeback by the Devon side a penalty in the final minute agonisingly gave the title to Saracens.

Thankfully the modern pentathlon World Cup I've been commentating on in Cairo hasn't effected my blood pressure to the same degree. It was wonderful to see another medal go to one of the British women but aside from that it was an open competition of world class standard that I could sit back and enjoy in the sunshine.

East to West

I usually resort to a map to demonstrate how far south Plymouth actually is when trying to explain to foreign friends that I don’t live in the well known cities of London or Edinburgh. I normally relish the distance we live away from the big cities especially when I’m at home enjoying the more relaxed pace of life in Devon.  On the other hand I do feel the frustration when I’m required to travel to the capital, or sometimes further, for work.
We naturally focus in on where we live and I became acutely aware of this last week. If I were to ask the population of Devon and Cornwall to sketch a map of the UK, I think it would look similar to the one in my mind - lacking a significant lump in the East. The vast expanse of country that extends to the northeast of London is much larger than I realised. I discovered this the long way when I set off on a journey to visit a school in the town of Wells Next The Sea, Norfolk. To break my journey I stayed the night with a friend in St Albans, Hertfordshire, assuming I only had an hour to drive the following morning. Au contraire - my morning commute took  three hours!
Although Norfolk and Devon are hundreds of miles apart they share a lot in common: both have a stunning coastline, a thriving tourism industry (in the summer) and a lot of open green spaces. Sadly that is where the similarities end. I soon realised the most significant difference when I popped out for a short jog - it is completely flat. If only I’d taken my bicycle with me! No wonder Norfolk cyclists are apparently “faster” than those of us in beautiful lumpy Devon

Feeling it

I can just about walk and talk again after the previous weekend's activities. I'm slightly late mentioning the wonderful result for Exeter Chiefs against Bath at Sandy Park. Commentators talk about the sixteenth man and he was certainly evident last Saturday with a sell out crowd giving tremendous vocal support. I'm not sure how much difference my cheers made but every little helps and it was worth loosing my voice for. This was the first time that Chiefs have beaten Bath in a Premiership game and they chose the right time to do it. The order at the top of the table has dramatically changed and Chiefs are tentatively hanging onto an incredible second place for the time being.

Having lost my voice on Saturday; I then lost the ability walk properly the following day thanks to the Bath half marathon. I did this race two years ago when I was still competing full time and in probably the best shape of my career - a slight contrast to now. I signed up at the end of the summer when the sun was still out and the evenings were light. I'm sure I'm not the first person to make that mistake. I decided I needed a goal to motivate me, to aim for and to give me a purpose to train. The only problem being nothing changed as I filed away the entry along with my structured training programme ready to dust off closer to the time. To start with I dreamt that I could improve on my personal best - surely training for just running is easier than five sports? As March loomed closer I set new more realistic targets and as a result ended up achieving them with time to spare. The big difference, however, became evident over the next few days when walking downstairs became impossible and even the flat was challenging.

Madonna

The internet and, more specifically, social media went into overdrive this week and the trigger was Madonna's now infamous tumble at the Brits.

We will all have made plenty of embarrassing mistakes in our time but are fortunate that they stay between friends and family; unlike those made by celebrities. For those of you who didn't watch the Brit Awards last week I'll bring you up to speed: Madonna, performing the finale, entered wearing a cape so long it had to be carried by three dancers. It was obvious that she would, at some point, be stripping down to a more minimal and typical Madonna style outfit and this was where the problem arose. As she attempted to emerge from the cloak with an intended dramatic step onto stage she instead found herself being pulled backwards by her neck down the steps. The cape was still attached as the dancers followed their cue to remove the garment. Madonna, ever the consummate professional, picked herself up and continued the show in style.

A few years ago I suffered a very similar embarrassment on live TV. I was performing on the Sport Relief program Let's Dance as none other than Madonna in her seminal hit video ‘Vogue’. I waited nervously listening for my cue from the intro music as the curtains drew back and to start with all I had to do was take a few steps into position. I can still feel my face burning red now as I remember that feeling of tripping and seeing the ground speeding closer towards my face. The adrenaline kicked in and I rescued myself in the nick of time. It didn't slip past my friends who were watching every detail but I think the general audience was too polite to point it out which spared my blushes.

Slopes to the sand

I started the week on a ski slope and finished it on a beach; sadly neither was real. My snow experience was a prickly one on the artificial slopes of the Mendip ski centre just outside of Bristol. A group of my friends were given the opportunity to have a taster session snowboarding, I'm always keen to try new sports, so I jumped at the chance. As a child I was never allowed to sample the board sport due to my father’s strong dislike of snowboarders. Apparently they carve up the slopes for skiers but I'm staying out of that debate. I made an error in my clothing choice opting for a pair of tracksuit bottoms which offered no protection for my derrière from the wet toothbrush like bristles that we had to sit on. I'd also forgotten how difficult artificial slopes are after being spoilt with skiing on real snow. Sadly I didn't master snowboarding in those two hours but it did reignite my desire to hit the real slopes - time to start saving for next year!

No time for real snow though as I headed west across the Atlantic to Sarasota in the state of Florida for the first modern pentathlon World Cup of the season. The Americans don't do things by halves and this World Cup was no exception. The riding and run/shoot event were held on a small man made island adjacent to an international rowing lake and the closing party was a beach barbecue. Slightly confused, I asked where the beach was and received a few strange looks. It transpired the artificial sand next to the rowing lake was ‘the beach’. Sadly I haven't had enough time to discover the real extensive coastline of Florida, maybe next time.