I booked my flights to Australia on a whim a few months ago. The temporary two year move from Plymouth to Sydney by one of my old school friends was the perfect excuse to head down under and the rest of the trip was shaped by many suggestions from others who have lived or currently live here. My horse racing mad godfather and his wife got incredibly excited when they discovered I was to be in Australia over the world famous Melbourne Cup week and so another chunk of the trip fell into place. After a few days spent acclimatising to the 11hr time difference, I left Sydney and headed south to the metropolitan city of Melbourne. The hype surrounding the Melbourne Cup had been evident in Sydney and as soon as I landed in the host city, I knew I was in for a treat.
The majority of my race going experiences have been at local point to points. I have had the occasional experience of dressing up for the races attending Royal Ascot and the Grand National but nothing quite prepared me for the outfits seen on Cup Day in Melbourne. Packing weeks in advance in the chilly UK, it was hard to predict what outfit would be most suitable so I sought advice from the official website and "dress to impress" was all the advice I could find. I discovered the Australian interpretation of this guidance was somewhat different to my own - the outfits were as much a feast for the eyes as the enthralling racing itself.
My only regret of the whole day was not supporting our Cornish neighbours at the bookies. It was a historic day as the 100-1 Prince of Penzance galloped to Cup victory ably ridden by the first ever female winning jockey.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Awkward timing
I will openly admit that after England's early exit I became quite fluid as to my choice of team to support during the remainder of the Rugby World Cup. Initially I moved on to Georgia after my frequent visits to Eastern Europe this summer; fully aware that even though they played gutsy rugby they were unlikely to make it out of the group stages. I then felt that as a Brit I should select a home nation. Scotland were a worthy choice and I certainly felt for our northern neighbours but no one showed their emotion quite as openly as Argentina. I am sure I was not alone in admiring their performance against Ireland and cheering them on against Australia.
That lead us to the final between the New Zealand All Blacks and the Australian Wallabies. According to BBC Sport over eighty percent of people had predicted the All Blacks to win and I was one of those. That did not mean I had pledged to support the rugby Kings and I was struggling to choose where my allegiance lay. My great grandfather was a Kiwi and I was keen to see New Zealand make history by winning back to back World Cups. That said, there was the one small fact that swayed it - I was in Australia when the match was being played.
Secretly I wanted to see the Wallabies in the final as I hoped I would be able to enjoy the pre World Cup final hype on the other side of the world. Sadly there proved to be more advertisements for the upcoming Bond film than the World Cup. Originally I had planned to head out and embrace the occasion in a bar but that was before I realised the kick off was 3am local time. I felt obliged to get up and watch it although crawling downstairs in my pyjamas won over a drunken early morning trip to the pub.
That lead us to the final between the New Zealand All Blacks and the Australian Wallabies. According to BBC Sport over eighty percent of people had predicted the All Blacks to win and I was one of those. That did not mean I had pledged to support the rugby Kings and I was struggling to choose where my allegiance lay. My great grandfather was a Kiwi and I was keen to see New Zealand make history by winning back to back World Cups. That said, there was the one small fact that swayed it - I was in Australia when the match was being played.
Secretly I wanted to see the Wallabies in the final as I hoped I would be able to enjoy the pre World Cup final hype on the other side of the world. Sadly there proved to be more advertisements for the upcoming Bond film than the World Cup. Originally I had planned to head out and embrace the occasion in a bar but that was before I realised the kick off was 3am local time. I felt obliged to get up and watch it although crawling downstairs in my pyjamas won over a drunken early morning trip to the pub.
Sunday, November 1, 2015
Fashion of food
It has been labelled the new evil; doctors recommend we avoid it and now the Government are planning to tax it. Sugar is the guilty food. The fashion of food changes frequently and it is challenging to keep up with what we are supposed to eat or avoid. It could be about to become much clearer as the government step in with more than a poster awareness campaign. Plans are afoot to introduce a special sugar tax.
It feels like only yesterday that fat was the bad word. We were constantly encouraged to cut out the saturated and reduce a little of the unsaturated from our diets. The most noticeable benefactors from that food phase were the weight loss companies and the pre-packed food industry. As consumers it was clear that we should reduce our fat and therefore opt for food with the same taste but reduced fat content. It has since become clear that reducing our fat intake was not necessarily the correct approach especially as artificial sugars were being added to compensate for the lack of flavour.
Growing up through the “low fat” era I was clearly guided by my sport and the requirements of my body combined with the instruction of the nutritionist. Even though I was training hard I was weaned onto low fat products such as skimmed milk and zero fat yogurts; butter and meat with any sign of fat was certainly off the menu. It was a challenge to consume the recommended amounts of calcium, iron and omega oils whilst keeping the fat and calorie content down.
I am a true convert since my athlete days. I have managed to reduce my sugar intake and now refuse to eat any low fat product, the flavour is incomparable. I support the sugar tax as long as the money raised is used to educate the population on how to live a healthy lifestyle.
It feels like only yesterday that fat was the bad word. We were constantly encouraged to cut out the saturated and reduce a little of the unsaturated from our diets. The most noticeable benefactors from that food phase were the weight loss companies and the pre-packed food industry. As consumers it was clear that we should reduce our fat and therefore opt for food with the same taste but reduced fat content. It has since become clear that reducing our fat intake was not necessarily the correct approach especially as artificial sugars were being added to compensate for the lack of flavour.
Growing up through the “low fat” era I was clearly guided by my sport and the requirements of my body combined with the instruction of the nutritionist. Even though I was training hard I was weaned onto low fat products such as skimmed milk and zero fat yogurts; butter and meat with any sign of fat was certainly off the menu. It was a challenge to consume the recommended amounts of calcium, iron and omega oils whilst keeping the fat and calorie content down.
I am a true convert since my athlete days. I have managed to reduce my sugar intake and now refuse to eat any low fat product, the flavour is incomparable. I support the sugar tax as long as the money raised is used to educate the population on how to live a healthy lifestyle.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Define sport
What is sport? The English dictionary defines it as an “athletic activity requiring skill or physical prowess”; it then mentions that this is often yet not exclusively competitive. A perfect example is the current rugby world cup - it certainly ticks the box for physicality and you only need to watch a game to witness the skill demonstrated by the players.
Almost all activities I partake in, watch or write about come under the umbrella of sport. When you consider that the description also includes “recreation or pleasant pastime” the umbrella doubles in size and opens up the question of when can an activity call itself a sport? This age old question was recently revisited when the card game Bridge claimed to be a sport.
Last week the English Bridge Union lost a high court battle against Sport England who had decided not to class Bridge a sport. To those outside of the sporting network it might seem confusing as to why a card game would so desperately want to class itself as a sport but it should be no surprise that a large part of it comes down to money. As a sport Bridge would be eligible to apply for funding as well as allowing schools and universities to offer it as a sporting option. Even after a high court ruling the case is not closed as the judge focused purely on the case in hand, ruling that Sport England had acted lawfully. He refused to comment on whether Bridge is actually sport.
There are the obvious benefits to being classed as a sport and as mentioned funding is a significant factor. I would like to think that sport must have a physiological benefit to the participant and therefore the heart rate must be raised at some point. Everyone is likely to have an opinion but who should get to have the final say?
Almost all activities I partake in, watch or write about come under the umbrella of sport. When you consider that the description also includes “recreation or pleasant pastime” the umbrella doubles in size and opens up the question of when can an activity call itself a sport? This age old question was recently revisited when the card game Bridge claimed to be a sport.
Last week the English Bridge Union lost a high court battle against Sport England who had decided not to class Bridge a sport. To those outside of the sporting network it might seem confusing as to why a card game would so desperately want to class itself as a sport but it should be no surprise that a large part of it comes down to money. As a sport Bridge would be eligible to apply for funding as well as allowing schools and universities to offer it as a sporting option. Even after a high court ruling the case is not closed as the judge focused purely on the case in hand, ruling that Sport England had acted lawfully. He refused to comment on whether Bridge is actually sport.
There are the obvious benefits to being classed as a sport and as mentioned funding is a significant factor. I would like to think that sport must have a physiological benefit to the participant and therefore the heart rate must be raised at some point. Everyone is likely to have an opinion but who should get to have the final say?
Monday, October 12, 2015
Fit for a prince
It is impossible to hide the disappointment of England’s early exit from the Rugby World Cup yet we must not forget that there are still numerous opportunities to enjoy world-class fixtures. I am still undecided on whom to support for the remainder of the tournament although I found a temporary distraction last week thanks to the Georgia versus Namibia match.
I bid for a wide mix of tickets in the ballot but as previously mentioned I was sadly unsuccessful. I had a limited budget and therefore low expectations so would have been delighted to watch any of the pool games in either of the Westcountry stadiums. The small capacities of the Gloucester and Exeter grounds combined the popularity of rugby in this part of the country resulted in no tickets; or so I thought.
A last minute opportunity arose thanks to a friend I bumped into a couple of weeks ago. This resulted in two tickets for the aforementioned game at Sandy Park to watch a team who I already held a natural affinity for. After three trips to Georgia this summer I felt it was obvious to support the Eastern Europeans in their quest to secure a second win. I was hoping for an excitingly close encounter and presumed it would therefore be a popular fixture; I did not however expect it to attract a royal attendance. The rumours of Prince Harry visiting obviously increased media interest in the match and if only I had heard this sooner I might have interpreted the smart casual dress code a little more accurately. My friend and I were intrigued by the heightened security in and around the seats we had been allocated. It soon became clear why I should have dressed a little smarter as the location of our box turned out to be good enough for royalty.
I bid for a wide mix of tickets in the ballot but as previously mentioned I was sadly unsuccessful. I had a limited budget and therefore low expectations so would have been delighted to watch any of the pool games in either of the Westcountry stadiums. The small capacities of the Gloucester and Exeter grounds combined the popularity of rugby in this part of the country resulted in no tickets; or so I thought.
A last minute opportunity arose thanks to a friend I bumped into a couple of weeks ago. This resulted in two tickets for the aforementioned game at Sandy Park to watch a team who I already held a natural affinity for. After three trips to Georgia this summer I felt it was obvious to support the Eastern Europeans in their quest to secure a second win. I was hoping for an excitingly close encounter and presumed it would therefore be a popular fixture; I did not however expect it to attract a royal attendance. The rumours of Prince Harry visiting obviously increased media interest in the match and if only I had heard this sooner I might have interpreted the smart casual dress code a little more accurately. My friend and I were intrigued by the heightened security in and around the seats we had been allocated. It soon became clear why I should have dressed a little smarter as the location of our box turned out to be good enough for royalty.
Monday, October 5, 2015
It is only a game
The wound is still raw. It has taken me a few days to come to terms with the devastating defeat England suffered against Australia last Saturday night in the rugby world cup. As I type the words ‘England are out of the world cup’ I feel the pain of a nation that only last week was filled with so much hope and expectation.
At last I had a Saturday night in the UK and one that coincided with England’s third match of the tournament. I must admit my nerves were increasing during the build up but I had never once let my mind contemplate the consequence of a loss. Thankfully this time I was in the comfort of an English friend’s home rather than a Georgian bar with a Frenchman or a wedding in Greece with a Welsh girl, as per the previous weeks. This provided little consolation and or escape. I awoke the next day hoping it had all been a bad dream but was greeted by a downbeat morning news followed by damming newspaper headlines.
Admittedly this is sport and it is “only a game” as I was so often told after a poor performance. That will bring no comfort to our players or the majority of England supporters. It is the statistic of being the first host team to fail to make it beyond the group stages that will continue to haunt us and there is still one month of the tournament left to play.
The only proactive solution must be to pick a new team to support in the hope they can offer a more satisfying result; that said I am personally struggling to switch my allegiances just yet. We do still have one remaining game so we should help “carry them home” - right to the bitter end.
At last I had a Saturday night in the UK and one that coincided with England’s third match of the tournament. I must admit my nerves were increasing during the build up but I had never once let my mind contemplate the consequence of a loss. Thankfully this time I was in the comfort of an English friend’s home rather than a Georgian bar with a Frenchman or a wedding in Greece with a Welsh girl, as per the previous weeks. This provided little consolation and or escape. I awoke the next day hoping it had all been a bad dream but was greeted by a downbeat morning news followed by damming newspaper headlines.
Admittedly this is sport and it is “only a game” as I was so often told after a poor performance. That will bring no comfort to our players or the majority of England supporters. It is the statistic of being the first host team to fail to make it beyond the group stages that will continue to haunt us and there is still one month of the tournament left to play.
The only proactive solution must be to pick a new team to support in the hope they can offer a more satisfying result; that said I am personally struggling to switch my allegiances just yet. We do still have one remaining game so we should help “carry them home” - right to the bitter end.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Bride v groom
I did not learn from my mistake, my diary was not planned any more efficiently this week. After watching England's opening game from an empty Georgian bar this time I was hoping to enjoy the atmosphere of a home crowd in a local pub. Instead I found myself in Greece, a country with no affinity for the egg shaped ball.
I stupidly had only thirty hours in the UK after traveling home from Eastern Europe, within which I was required to spend over ten of those driving. I flew into Heathrow, made a beeline to West Cornwall for a few hours of work, then drove through the night back to Gatwick for a 5am flight. The disruption to any sleep pattern, the hours wasted sat in a car and the loss a nights sleep was certainly made worth it as it did mean I was able to drop in and meet my one day old baby nephew.
I am not requesting any sympathy as I am fully aware my travel plans were self inflicted, on top of that my trip to Greece was purely for pleasure; I had been invited to a close friend's wedding. The ceremony was planned for the Saturday, you can guess where this is going, there was a big diary clash but this time not due to my planning. The bride and groom, who are both avid rugby supporters, chose the weeding date long before the group stages of the World Cup were drawn, it was far too late to change anything. The biggest coincidence became apparent as the matches were announced, the bride is welsh and the groom English. It made for any extremely nail biting eighty minutes. My consolation for England loosing had to be the look on my friends face as she declared it to be truly the best day of her life.
I stupidly had only thirty hours in the UK after traveling home from Eastern Europe, within which I was required to spend over ten of those driving. I flew into Heathrow, made a beeline to West Cornwall for a few hours of work, then drove through the night back to Gatwick for a 5am flight. The disruption to any sleep pattern, the hours wasted sat in a car and the loss a nights sleep was certainly made worth it as it did mean I was able to drop in and meet my one day old baby nephew.
I am not requesting any sympathy as I am fully aware my travel plans were self inflicted, on top of that my trip to Greece was purely for pleasure; I had been invited to a close friend's wedding. The ceremony was planned for the Saturday, you can guess where this is going, there was a big diary clash but this time not due to my planning. The bride and groom, who are both avid rugby supporters, chose the weeding date long before the group stages of the World Cup were drawn, it was far too late to change anything. The biggest coincidence became apparent as the matches were announced, the bride is welsh and the groom English. It made for any extremely nail biting eighty minutes. My consolation for England loosing had to be the look on my friends face as she declared it to be truly the best day of her life.
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