Week 12: A trip to Berlin

First of all, I know what you’re thinking… How does a holiday to Berlin with your mates constitute stepping outside your comfort zone? Granted, a fair few elements of this trip weren’t outside of my comfort zone, but there are a few good talking points. I initially planned on finding a ‘one off’ challenge in Berlin that stood out, but I soon realised there were a fair few things to talk about.

Before I start, it must be said what a beautiful city Berlin is. Heaped with years of modern history, amazing architecture and a frightening amount of graffiti (above), Berlin is without doubt my favourite city in the world. Not only for it’s beauty, but for it’s atmosphere. Unlike London or other capital cities in the world, Berlin is in no rush. Everything is so relaxed, you’ll never be caught in the hussle and bussle of Clapham Junction station or Oxford Street. There’s a sense of trust, that is much more apparent in Germany compared to England. There are no barriers at train stations, it is run on an honesty system; there are no closing times in clubs/bars, they simply close “When all the customers have gone”; people smoke in bars; you can drink at football; you can ride around the city on a bike whilst drinking beer. The city oozes creativity and if feels like there is an anything goes atmosphere in the air. My favourite qwerk was without doubt, that no ‘Berliner’ would cross the road unless the green man is showing, even if there’s not a car in sight.

Graffiti
Graffiti

What blew my mind the most about Berlin, is just how fresh some of the history is. The Berlin Wall was only taken down in 1989. There was still a divide between Soviet communist and East German Government and West Germany (USA, UK and France) until this point. That’s less than 30 years ago. The wall is incredible, what’s left of it goes for miles.

Berlin Wall
Berlin Wall

One thing I found fascinating was the Fuherbunker. The place Adolf Hitler eventually committed suicide. A huge moment in world history, yet the today the bunker was now a car park site and is very understated, in fact it was actually very hard to find. I believe this is because Germany don’t want this ever to become a Nazi shrine to Hitler. If you didn’t go out of your way to find it, you’d have never known it was there. I could write for hours about the history of Berlin, I won’t bore you with it, but seriously make sure you visit if you get the chance if you haven’t already.

The Fuherbunker
The Fuherbunker

A visit to Berlin isn’t a visit to Berlin without trying a ‘Currywurst’. This is the food of Berlin, you can’t walk down a street without seeing one Currywurst outlet. Basically, it’s a german sausage, with a curry tomato ketchup all over it. Having not had one before, I didn’t like the sounds of it, but I love sausage, I love ketchup and I love curry. Guess what, I loved Currywurst.

I’m going to take a moment to talk about the nightlife in Berlin. This was probably where I was most out of my comfort zone, believe it or not. The door policy is SO strict. Night one, we try to get into Watergate, as a group of 6 english guys. We thought they’d want our money, apparently not. Split into two groups of 3, the first 3 managed to get in, the second 3, which included me didn’t. The lady bouncer asked me something in German, I replied “Darius” (I was told to say this, as apparently this was the DJ on that night), she turned me away without reason and the other guys had to follow. Berlin is famous for it’s strict door policy, we didn’t even attempt to get into the infamous Berghain (honestly look this up if you’ve never heard of it).

We managed to get into a smaller club called Sky Club, and this may have been the most frightening thing I’ve ever been part of. The entrance was a stone door, without a bouncer, covered in graffiti. We walked in, greeted by 4 tough looking bouncers, pay the entrance, and enter the club. First thing I see, is a guy sitting down just staring at the cigerette machine. Head to the bar, order some drinks, look around. It’s not busy, but there are just a handful of people dancing by themselves, wide eyed, and not talking to anyone. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what was going on in this place. The music was so hardcore, that I started to think what is this noise (am I getting old?). Safe to say, we were very out of place, out of our comfort zones and after having a drink, quickly moved on.

The next day, we went to a few bars, rather than trying to hit any clubs, we got speaking to some local Berliners and asked why it was so hard to get in. They said “Why are you wearing shirts? In Berlin, you need to dress like you are about to dance all night”. I think they were suggesting we looked too smart, which was probably a first time for all of us. It goes back to what I was saying, Berlin is so relaxed. No one cares for dressing up. People are just out for a good time.

With any new city, way finding was tough to begin with, but that certainly was part of the fun. We made sure we found our own way places, and avoided cabs wherever possible. All part of the adventure so they say.

Noel Gallagher
Noel Gallagher

The final night of the trip, I finally saw my musical hero Noel Gallagher and absolutely loved it. 12 000 people singing songs back at him, and not a single flaw. A few people have suggested I do an open mic night as a challenge. I’ve put it on the list, one that really will take some balls to do. I’ve put it in for later in the year, give me some time to practice.

I’ve put in a little video of some of the stuff we got up to below.

Week 11: Dancing the Smooth Jive

Week 11 of my Comfort Zone Challenge saw me enter the realms of Ballroom dancing.

For those of you that know me even slightly well, you’ll know I cannot dance at all. I seem to have an awkward posture and a terrible feel for rhythm when it comes to dancing. In fact, it’s only once I’ve had quite a lot to drink that I tend to stray away from Hitch’s advice of elbows 6 inches from the chest at a 90 degree angle, and a rock from side to side. Once the drink is flowing, the air disks and air guitars have been known to make an appearance, but standing by the bar and bopping my head is my usual go too!

I was invited, by my god mother, to take part in a smooth jive class. Fair to say, if I’m bad at dancing in a club, under no pressure, dancing in a class with people who actual want to dance well, was going to be tough.

Upon arrival, a few people were already dancing in the village hall. These guys were definitely not beginners, which straight away made me think I was going to be out of place. Throughout the evening, I was told everyone starts somewhere and reminded how my god father did it, and if he could do it, I could do it. I tended to agree with this notion. (Sorry, Frank)

The session was ran by Kane and Helen, and within the group were what are called ‘taxis’, whose role is to help beginners/intermediates dance, by being there to dance with. Contrary to what I thought, the age range of the people there ranged from 18 to at a guess late 60s. The session started by a step by step walk through of a dance to learn. The men stood on the outside inwards towards Kane, who gave out the instructions.

IMG_5372
You would do one move with a woman, and then all of the women would go clockwise in a circle and dance with another man. This meant every time there was a swap, I’d have to apologise to the new woman. “Hey, I’m Tom. I’m really sorry, this is my first time, and I can’t dance”. Most would reply an answer along the lines of “of course you can dance” or “oh don’t worry, you’ll love it”.

The first few times, I could not get my head around the moves in question. I was like Mr Tickle from the Mr Men books. Arms flying everywhere, and getting into a tangle with the women. What made it so hard, is that the male has to lead the dance, and as a beginner it’s borderline impossible to lead another person, when you can’t even do your own bit!

Eventually, I started to get the idea, and as one woman came back around the circle I had the stupidity to say.. “It’s fine, I’m becoming a pro at this now”…… Queue the cock up.

What was clear, everyone that was there loved these sessions. In my mind, it was going a bunch of women that wanted to dance, and their husbands that had been forced to come along with them. It may well have started like that, but all the blokes there seemed to be loving it. Everyone was up for a laugh. I laughed so much (mostly at how bad I was) but everyone would just laugh along with you.

After the beginners had a bit of technical coaching and the intermediates had learnt a more robust dance, the music was just played and we entered what they called ‘Freestyle’. This was a chance to chat or just dance into the night. I chatted with a few people, and they assured me that all men start out like me and it’s all about practice. A few of the older ladies, were keen to let me know, becoming a good dancer is a good way to ‘woo’ the women. I’m a long way off that I’d say!

There were some incredible dancers there, and I had a few dances with a couple of women in the freestyle before I thought it was time to go. I left around 10pm and the freestyle was still in full swing! No idea what time it ended, it could still be going on now for all I now! They certainly out lasted me. I did promise one of the ladies it wouldn’t be the last they saw me, so I guess I have no choice to return one day. (I secretly want to go back, it was good fun)

You can see in the short clip below, some of the moves I was busting. Yeah.. Agreed, I don’t think even Len Goodman would give me a seven for that dance! Room for improvement, at least!

I’ll be doing two challenges for charity in the coming months. One a fire walk for the Sara Lee Trust, and the other a sky dive for Samantha Beaven who has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. If you would be willing to donate to either causes, I would be hugely appreciative. The links are below:

DONATE THE FIRE WALK

DONATE THE SKY DIVE

Week 10: Reaching out to the ‘elderly’

Week 10 of my comfort zone challenge and this week I would do my best to reach out to the elderly generation. This is something I’m notoriously bad at, often paying little notice to the older generation, whilst getting on with what I believe to be my busy life.

In reading up before this challenge, I knew that loneliness was an issue amongst the elderly people, but I was shocked to read that 5 million older people are affected by loneliness. That’s 1 in 3 of the entire elderly population in the UK. I was also sad to read, amongst many other stats, that 5 million elderly people find television as their main form of companionship. Most of these people won’t have much choice in the matter, often living alone, and potentially widowed.

With these stats in mind, I immediately felt that taking part in the County Ground Cuppa event, ran in conjunction with the Friends of the Elderly, would be something that would be really worthwhile.

The Friends of the Elderly campaign attempts to reach out at those who may feel a bit lonely or isolated. It offers them the chance to get together with a cup of tea and a chat, whilst hopefully building up connections with other local people.

Would you believe it, when I came into the event, I was stupidly intimidated. I thought in my mind, these people aren’t going to want to talk to me. What can I offer them?
Friends of the Elderly
Once I had a conjured up the confidence to sit with them, I soon realised I’d have nothing to worry about. They really did seem to enjoy the company. I ended up sitting with Brenda and Mary, who I seemed to get on with very well. After offering to make them a cup of tea (earning my brownie points), they were very interested in what I did with my life. We got chatting about cricket, which couldn’t be more in my comfort zone, but was a good conversation piece for all of us.

Would you believe it, I ended up playing bingo again! That’s twice in three weeks. AND.. I only went and won again. I’m considering packing everything in, and taking up bingo as a profession. I won getting two lines which, instead of winning me £200,  it got me a packed of biscuits, which I shared with the table (more brownie points). I also was the first to get a full house, but I decided not to call out bingo for this one. I thought I’d let someone else have the winning moment! (I’ve had my fair share recently).

Bingo... Again!
Bingo… Again!

What I have to say, is what a great initiative this campaign is. Everyone seemed to be getting involved, and it was great to see 30 local elderly people interacting with each other.

Having everyday interactions with other people has been proven to combat loneliness and is something that I take for granted. I’m going to make a conscious effort now to at least be more aware of the elderly generation, whether it just be a small chat at the station or helping out where I can. I’m blessed to have an interactive job with amazing friends and family, it only seems right to help out where I can. Fingers crossed, when we are all old, we can receive the same treatment!

 

Week 9: Horse Riding

Week 9 of my comfort zone challenge, and this week I decided to take an interest in my sister’s hobby, horse riding. My sister, Sarah, has been riding horses for 21 years, of which she has had her own horse, Bronte, for 10. Being the terrible brother I am, until this week, I think I have only seen Bronte once in those 10 years. I had been living life so in the comfort zone, I’d never taken an interest in my sisters main hobby. So I gave my sister a text, and arranged a riding lesson.

I arrived at Hyfield Stables, in Crowhurst, and as soon as I got out of the car, the fresh farm smell instantly hit me. It’s like a mix of manure and fresh air up your nose. Strangely, the smell really grew on me.

Being 15 minutes early, I sat by the riding school and watched the lesson that was already taking place. There was a girl, no older than 13, just whipping the horse over jumps, making it look easy. I thought to myself, if a 13 year old girl can ride horses, I should be fine.

The Riding School
The Riding School

Sarah arrived, showed me Bronte and then took me to the horse I would be riding, Oliver. She assured me that Oliver was very well behaved and would be no trouble. I was slightly relieved as Oliver was massive.

Sarah set up both the horses with saddle, stirrups and reins and we were ready to go. I actually thought we may start off in the riding school, but Sarah said she would give me a crash course and we’ll head straight out. Sarah’s crash course to her brother was as followed: “Kick to go, pull back to stop, pull one rein to steer.” To be fair, that’s all I needed to know.

My new pal Oliver
My new pal Oliver

Before we left the stables, Oliver decided he wanted a drink. Who am I to argue with him? He’s bigger than me. Rehydrated, we rode into the Crowhurst countryside, fortunately it was a beautiful day. We slowly went through the gears from walk, into a trott, into a canter. The faster we went, the more fun it was.

I quickly realised, horse riding was all about balance. Sarah would always remind me to keep my heels down. This would help with balance and keeping posture as the horse went faster. It was like riding a bike in a way. You had to kick to move (pedal) and steer with the reins. Without kicking, the horse just wouldn’t move.

The ride itself, was a great mix of relaxation with the occasional adrenaline rush to keep yourself entertained. I was really surprised how much I enjoyed it. On top of that, it was a great way to catch up with my sister.

By the end of the ride, my legs were aching, but there were no ‘pelvic’ injuries that I was previously warned about before. I came out feeling much better for doing something different with my Sunday. Makes a nice change from the usual hungover corpse that lies on the sofa most Sundays.

A special thanks should go out to both my sister, for taking me out, and Sophie North of Hyfield Stables for kindly letting me ride her horse Oliver. Below is a highlight reel of the ride!

Week 8: Bingo!

Week 8 of my comfort zone challenge,  saw me visit my local bingo hall. I don’t like to have preconceptions of things, but in my head I pictured bingo being a relaxed, jovial evening out with plenty of the ‘older generation’. It didn’t really appeal to me, how fun can circling numbers be?

In doing my research before the event, I was absolutely amazed to find out this bingo hall was open 11am-11pm, EVERYDAY! I mean, surely there isn’t the demand for bingo, all day, everyday?!

In tack with three of my good friends, we took on, what I assumed to be prime time, the Saturday evening session. Before they would let us loose in the bingo hall, we needed to sign up and become a member. They then asked if we wanted to play on a screen or in a book. Being the traditionalist that I am, and against the advice of the Deluxe Bingo staff, I went for the books with the dabber. It’s not bingo if you’re just touching an Ipad right?

We got a very quick run through on how to play bingo by both the reception staff and the number announcer. For those that have never been, you are given a ticket with 6 boxes, that have the numbers 1-90 randomly positioned within the boxes. The announcer will then proceed to announce randomly generated numbers with the aim being to fill either one horizontal line, followed by two horizontal lines and then one full box, a full house.

We went to the main hall, and to my shock the place was packed. Finding a table for four of us was difficult, and when we finally did find a table, we must of clearly look liked first timers. Instantly as we sat down, the women to the right of me (pictured below), who became my friend over the course of the night, asked “Is it your first time?… Just give me a shout if you need any help”. How hard can it be just highlighting numbers?

Bingo with the boys
Bingo with the boys

It quickly became apparent after the first round, that bingo requires concentration. It wasn’t the relaxed jovial atmosphere I expected, when play started complete silence took over the room, so you could hear the announcer. The numbers are reeled off so quickly, you don’t get a chance to look anywhere but your book. To my dismay, there weren’t any jokes as they announced the numbers. There was no “You and me, Number 3” or “Tickety-boo, 62.” The closest we got was “Two fat ladies, 88”. This did disappoint me.

Once I started getting the knack of filling numbers in time, whilst evaluating how many I needed to complete a line/box, I began to become more and more gutted each time I didn’t win. As we became close to getting a full house, we would whisper to each other, “I’ve got a busy box”. Not sure how we came to calling it that, but every game one of the four of us, would claim their box is getting busy. Each time, we were just one or two away from the prize.

In full concentration...
In full concentration…

As the evening went on, the prizes went up. The jackpot started on £50 and ended up £250. As the prizes became higher, the gasps of disappointment around the room became louder as someone in the room stole the jackpot.

The women next to me would knit in-between games to keep herself entertained. She looked very content, and would occasionally engage in conversation to see how we were getting on. It felt quite mothering, if I’m honest!

The room was boiling and with no windows around, I quickly lost track of time. By the penultimate game, I had no idea what time it was, only that I was three quarters of the way through my pint (I barely had time to drink, the concentration levels were so high). I was one off hitting the first line, which would have given me a £20 prize and in profit for the evening. My top box started to become busy, I told the boys, and they all ignored me. All of a sudden, I was one away from the full house. All I need was the number 67. My friend Mike, opposite me, had noticed I was just one away, and when the number 57 not 67 was called out, he said “you’ve won mate!”.. I hadn’t. When you need one number, that is all your mind is waiting for, you certainly don’t mistake it for another number. Three numbers later… “67!”… “YES!” I cried. I had only gone and hit the full house. I won the £200 cash prize, I couldn’t believe my luck. My women friend, was delighted for me. I think she shouted well done louder than I had shouted to claim the prize.

WINNER
WINNER

In hindsight, I was gutted I didn’t shout BINGO. I definitely had pictured myself shouting it out. I guess in the moment I was too excited to have won.

Ending the night with a lovely little cash prize put me in the mood for celebration, which meant I didn’t wake up the next morning with £200 in my wallet. I woke up with a lighter wallet and a banging headache. I blame the bingo.

I was told by the announcer afterwards, to tell people that not everyone wins first time when they go. What do they say about beginners luck?

Having won some money here, I think it’s time to start giving a bit back and using my luck for some more charitable tasks. If you guys have any good ideas for me, swing them my way!

Week 7: A Valentine’s Special – FREE HUGS

This week I wanted to incorporate the romantic theme of Valentine’s day, but having already done a blind date, I wanted to stay away from the dating scene.

Inspired by Juan Mann’s Free Hug Movement, I wanted to create a Free Hug Movement of my own around Brighton. The idea is that you give a hug to strangers, as a random act of kindness to make somebody’s day better.

Rather than a sign, saying Free Hugs, I created a cheap t-shirt online. The t-shirt was terrible fitting, it came out like a tent on me. Not the best start. Then to complete the look, I was convinced to buy a helium love heart balloon. Luckily, it didn’t rain, as I didn’t for a second consider a plan B for if it did rain.

All ready to go...
All ready to go…

I wasn’t particularly nervous before this task, maybe I just under estimated it, but I went in with a ‘what’s the worst that can happen’ type attitude. It was only once I had taken off my hoodie, shouted ‘FREE HUGS’ and received ZERO hugs, that I began to regret doing it and felt like a weirdo. I have to say this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.

There was a huge sense of relief when I received that first hug, I think I may have even thanked them. What was amazing, once I had received the first hug, like a domino effect, people just kept coming. The key to the whole task was finding areas of high footfall. In areas of low footfall, the recipient found themselves in an awkward social situation and people were hesitant to do it. Funny how people follow the lead of others, right?

There were a few funny reactions to my cries of FREE HUGS. A couple of people thought I was shouting FREE DRUGS and replied “yes please”. One gentlemen, gratefully received my free hug, but told me his hugs weren’t free and that I owed him £2. He let me off eventually. One women asked me before hugging “you’re not a weirdo are you?”… I couldn’t honestly reply saying no, I mean I’m giving out free hugs for pete’s sake.

I think it’s fair to say this challenge is something way outside of my comfort zone. I can’t say that I’ve ever gone around hugging strangers. I can think of countless times I barely even look at other people on tubes or hardly said hello as I walked past someone I know. I’m not a particularly loving person at the best of times, so this was definitely a good challenge. What I can say, is each hug that I gave did make me smile. Watching people’s reaction was very funny, and from what I could tell, I seemed to make a few other people smile… Whether it was from the hug, or just laughing at the strange man giving out free hugs. A smile is a smile, I’ll claim them all.

Hopefully my random act of kindness made a few people’s day, theirs certainly made mine.

BELOW IS A HIGHLIGHT REEL OF THE DAY (The little chap at the end was a legend)

Week 6: Tarot Psychic Reading

This week’s task definitely took me outside the comfort zone. To say I don’t believe in external forces/powers is an understatement. I’m a complete Atheist, in fact here’s a list of things I don’t believe in:

– God/Religious beings
– Being able to see in the future/past
– Karma
– Having a gut ‘feeling’ something will happen
– Couples that are ‘meant to be’
– Ghosts
– A sixth sense
– Fate
– Santa Claus

….You get the idea.

If you had asked me my opinion on psychic’s before the task, I would of told you they are a complete fraud. Part of me still believes this.

Jan was the lady that gave me her reading at her house. She was very kind and welcoming. Her flat was small and had a lovely relaxing aroma as soon as you walked in. She took me to to her dining room and asked me to sit down. “Is this your first time darling”… it was. She explained there is nothing to worry about, and all I needed to do is say yes or no to her questions, to help her with the reading.

Pre-Reading and the bracelet that would reveal all...
Pre-Reading and the bracelet that would reveal all…

She gave me the pack of tarot cards and asked me to shuffle them, then pick 5 cards. She also wanted a piece of my jewellery to help her with the reading. I handed over my bracelet and the cards, and she put them in between 3 rocks that were on the table. I have no idea what relevance the rocks were meant to have. Perhaps they were there for show.

She started almost hugging my bracelet and stroking it up and down throughout the reading, with her eyes closed. She asked what I would like her to talk about… I had no idea really, I was very sceptical, so I just mentioned “Career”. She quickly went on to say how I worked hard and she could feel I’m exhausted when I’m finished. Easy win for her, considering I was in my work clothes and could probably tell from the bags on my face I was exhausted.

The reading went on and got more and more personal, including my love life. To her credit, she was getting a lot of things right. It’s very clever how my yes or no answers lead her to getting my life pretty much correct. A few things resonated with me:

– You have a close knit family
– You find it hard to let your guard down
– You’re big on trust and honesty
– You’ll be successful in your career

She was wrong on how I spend my money and she was insistent on a woman from the heavens coming through, before after a few no’s she decided a man was coming through, which we eventually agreed was my Granddad.

I’ll be honest, the reading made me feel good. She was telling me things that not only were right (eventually) but she’d often say things that I’d want to hear. Who doesn’t want to hear that your family is close and loving, that you’ll be successful, that your granddad is proud of you and that you’ll find love in September.

She also said I was a psychic, and that I can see in the future. “You know what you want darling, and you won’t settle for anything less. You’re a psychic you are darling”… She must have called me darling about 50 times over the 20 minute reading, which actually became quite endearing. Maybe she started calling me a psychic to try and get me on side and start believing, not a bad tactic.

Only at the end did she show me my cards, and they all had relevance to what she was saying, apart from “There will be a new addition to your family”… She decided that this would be either the love that I may find in July as she said or perhaps could be my sister.

Not for a second do I think she was psychic, could see my granddad or even know I was tired from work. She obviously started with vague statements and read my body language and reactions until she was right, and again, credit where credit is due, she was pretty much right.

However, what I did take from this is the feeling of positivity that I felt afterwards, which I could only assume would be heightened for other people. I no longer felt the feeling that psychics are a complete fraud etc. If it makes feel people feel good about themselves, why not let them do it? We all need a boost now and then, and if this gives it too people, then so be it.

To top of the whole session, after I had paid the money, she told me that all the money she raises from the readings, she donates to a brain disease charity that her husband had previously passed away from. A nice touch to end the session, which I actually kind of enjoyed.

 

Week 5: The HOTTEST Curry

This week’s original comfort zone challenge had to be postponed, so a last minute replacement challenge was undertaken instead.

Saturday evening, takeaway curry night, with the boys, in front of some awful Saturday night TV. These are usually, one of my favourite evenings, eating the joyous mix between colourings and flavours, whilst in the comfort of my own home.

I’m not normally too risky when taking on a bit of spicy food. Typically, I tend to go for the Chicken Tikka Masala or the Butter Chicken type meals on the Indian menu. In fact, on the Nando’s Lemon and Herb to Extra Hot spice chart, I push the boat out to a medium and that is testing me. It’s not my thing, so when asking my mates what to do last minute, eating something spicy seemed the obvious choice.

We all agreed, I’d attempt to take on a Phall from our local takeaway. To make it worse, when ordering over the phone, my mates thought it would be hilarious to ask it to be extra hot! (No worries, I’m paying for it). Lesson learnt, week 5, make sure you always order.

I stocked up with a 4 pint carton of milk, purely because I had heard it’s the best remedy for curing spicy food. I actually did no research on this prior to eating the curry, and I’m questioning if there is any truth in this, as it certainly did nothing for me.

The Phall
The Phall

The food arrived, and the dread of the task kicked in. I started by poking the end of my finger in to the sauce and licking it clean, to get a feel for the heat I was about to take on. It was outrageous. Instant burning in my mouth. I even got my friends to do the same, after which they were annoyed it was going to ruin their curries (ruining two korma’s I must add!).

Like a pre match football speech, I got myself in the zone. “One plateful, mind over matter, I can do it.”  I put on the video, gave myself another little pep talk, took the first mouthful and let the pain begin. Rather than the usual feeling of delight and relish, the feeling was of stress and regret. My mouth and tongue were just tingling with fire all over, all I could do was swig away at milk and take in deep breaths in the hope it would cool my mouth down… It didn’t.

As I slowly made my way through the dish, I worked out taking bites with chicken were easier, as the chicken itself wasn’t filled with spice. I also came to the conclusion that the bigger the spoonful, the quicker this would be over and done with. The milk was my only friend (my real friends were only good for laughing at me), as I was overcome with sweat and discomfort.

Struggling my way through
Struggling my way through

The heat in my mouth actually became a background thought as it didn’t get any worse from the first bite. What I didn’t expect was my stomach not liking the spice. I genuinely believed that once the food was in the stomach, there would be nothing to worry about. Of course this wasn’t the case, that would be too easy. Once I got to about two thirds of the way through the plate, my stomach was saying no more. Whether this was because of the three pints of milk in about 15 minutes or because of the hottest thing my body has ever tasted, I don’t know but I physically couldn’t eat anymore. Yes, I threw up. I ran to the toilet and it ALL came back up. Without going into details, this was just as painful a process of the process of putting it down my body. The spices left their mark as they said goodbye’s after their brief stay in the body.

I’d love to write, ‘eating a Phall has completely opened my mind, and I will eat them every week now”. I’d be completely lying. It was horrible, I didn’t enjoy any second of it and I never want to eat one again. I’m now going to pronounce it as a ‘Foul’ rather than a Phall. I’m genuinely amazed though, that people can eat Phalls and enjoy them.. I’d love to talk to someone that does, having tried it for myself now.

It’s safe to say I won’t be appearing on Man vs Food anytime soon.

I tried to video the whole task, however my phone ran out of space midway through… Here’s where I got to and the end result (not for the squeamish).

Shout out to JAKE RALPH for buying me my comfort zone mug (presents are encouraged). I’ll have a constant reminder now that…

Which one is the mug?
Which one is the mug?

“LIFE BEGINS AT THE END OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE”

Week 4: Yoga

Yoga. A hindu spiritual and ascetic discipline, which includes breath control,  meditation, and the adoption of specific bodily postures, which is good for improving health and relaxation. A few stretches on a mat, that will help me relieve me of the stresses of everyday working life, right?

It’s fair to say, I was very uneducated on yoga prior to my first ever session. First of all, I turned up wearing t-shirt, shorts, socks and trainers like I was about to run a marathon. All the gear, no idea sprang to mind. The first thing I was told by instructor Maddy, “You should take your shoes and socks off”.

Shoes and socks off, mat set up, I was ready to relax. Maddy started the session off by teaching us some key breathing techniques and relaxing our muscles, which really worked and I was actually beginning to think I might be good at yoga. Until we started the postures…

We started to move legs around into funny positions, and I would look around at the females in the room that knew what we were doing for guidance. Helen, the woman in front of me, had been 4 or 5 times, but considered herself a beginner aswell, so was trying to help me out.

“I bet you weren’t expecting to do some downward dog tonight”

Before this experience, I was adamant I would take this seriously and not laugh at any point. However, when we took up the ‘downward facing dog’ position and Helen turned around to me and said “I bet you weren’t expecting to do some downward dog tonight” with a bit of a cheeky grin on her face, I could not help but burst into laughter and fall from the position.

Downward Facing Dog Position
Downward Facing Dog Position

We later started to take up some floor based positions, where we would stretch one leg fully out, whilst bending the other towards the stomach. Then you would lean forward, reach with your hands to touch your toes and rest your head on your knees. Whilst everyone was doing that, I was attempting to lean forward and touch my toes, but getting no where near, and frankly not looking like I was even trying to stretch. Football over the years, hasn’t helped with my hamstrings.

My second major lack of knowledge, was just how hard yoga was. People warned me it was hard in the lead up to this, but I completely underestimated it. I didn’t turn up with a drink, didn’t bring a towel, I had no idea what I was in for. There were times during the workout (I’m calling it a workout now, it was that tough) I was sweating buckets and my muscles were shaking as I would try and hold on to the positions. What made it worse, as I was shaking like jelly, the women around me were making it look SO easy! I’ve always been quite a sporty guy, but some these positions just felt completely alien to me.

To end the session, Maddy took us on a relaxing journey by talking to our minds. She had us lay flat on the ground, with arms and legs flopped out, and told us to close our eyes. In her soothing tone of voice, she slowly told relax single parts of our bodies, whilst using the breathing techniques she had taught. “Feel the relaxation flow to your fingers, up your arm, into your chest” etc etc. It was lovely, without doubt my favourite part of the session. I really got into it, and was nearly asleep by the time she finished the session. I had to slowly wake up my body, starting with the fingers and toes and get back into the room.

It was all done, it was hard work but I definitely had a ‘feel good’ feeling afterwards, and I slept like a baby that evening… Whether that was exhaustion from the workout or just the relaxing techniques working, I don’t know. But it certainly worked.

Namaste!
Namaste!

Thanks to Maddy Scott for letting me into her class, she was great and certainly worked to my level.

One month out of twelve complete of my comfort zone challenge. Looking forward to what February brings.

Week 3: A genuine blind date

In a world where your next relationship/date seems to come from Tinder or some form of social media, this week’s task was extremely refreshing. A genuine blind date. No pictures, no swiping, no ‘liking’ pictures, no small talk prior to the date, just an open mind and trust in a friend.

Off the back of last week’s post, my colleague at work, Poppy, contacted me to bring up the idea. Traditionally, this is something I’d never even consider, my only experiences of a blind date is Cilla Black’s ITV programme or David Brent’s blind date in The Office. So it was an perfect idea for this challenge.

How it all started...
How it all started…

After accepting the offer, all I was told was I’d be meeting a Daisy, aged 20, who’s brunette. I did have mild panic attacks the day before, where I drew on the varied advice from people I knew. One person said “As soon as she sees you, she will love you and then she will talk to you and will love you more”, though this is something my mum would say, I promise it wasn’t her! Then I went to the boys for advice, to which I was advised “Just don’t faint this week”. Brilliant.

Before I go any further, I’d like to make clear that this blog post isn’t about rating how the date went. It would be unfair on Daisy and besides it’s none of your business. This is all about the experience.

Meeting at Brighton Pier at 6pm, I made sure I was fashionably late by arriving 15 minutes early. Thinking I’d be greeted by a Daisy, I was greeted by Rachel, the storm that happened to be taking place in Brighton at the time. Rachel was angry and was doing her best to brush me off my feet before my date even started. Hopefully Daisy would be a bit kinder.

Only when it got to the date, it occurred that she may turn up, see me and leave. You can see by the group ‘WhatsApp’ conversation, I was cool as a cucumber.

Calm and collected
Calm and collected

The good news is she turned up, recognised me from the pictures she had seen and didn’t feel the need to turn around. We got out of the storm, had a meal and went on to drink a few cocktails.

It’s hard to describe the energy I felt before and throughout the evening. Having no idea who was going to turn up and not knowing a thing about their background, was brilliant. There were no expectations and it turned out to be a fun evening. Yeah, it was a risk, but it goes to show you should trust your friends. I knew Poppy was unlikely to stitch me up; she knew both of us and thought we’d get on…. which we did. There were thousands of things to talk about and no pressure at all. The most pressure I had all evening was choosing which cocktails to choose. The ‘Songbird’, chosen purely as it’s an Oasis song, was a success. The Martini, if it’s good enough for James Bond, it’s good enough for me, wasn’t quite so successful.

I’d honestly encourage people to give something like this a go. Trust your friends, take the whole ‘looks’ element out of it and chuck yourselves in the deep end. As I said to myself before the whole thing, what’s the worst that could happen?….. (I didn’t faint this week!)

As always, ideas are encouraged. The list is growing!