My James Bond moment

Firstly, I would like to know, as a newcomer to the world of James Bond, if they have always been such terrible films. I watched one last night and it was like watching a comedy. The English girls have such terribly, terribly English accents, yah! And they’re so stiff-upper-lipped that it looks like they’ve had Botox. Daniel Craig is great in cool-calm-and-collected way but even his pout is ridiculous. Even mid-death-defying-car-chase, his pout is firmly in place.

The times when I did try to get caught up in the action and stop sniggering at everything, I couldn’t actually follow it because it’s filmed so close up that when Bond is chasing someone across a rooftop or climbing some rickety scaffolding which then collapses, you can’t actually see what’s going on. They need to zoom out a little. It’s just lots of glass smashing and gun fire, really close up.

I just felt I needed to get that out of my system. I haven’t really followed James Bond films at all and then I finally sat down and watched one and it was utterly ridiculous and I am very puzzled about why people love it so much.

And anyway, a little while ago I had a James Bond moment which was actually way more superhero than any James Bond film.

I was waiting at the train station in Liverpool, for my train back to London. It was evening time, about 7pm. I was sitting on a bench, minding my own business, when I heard a bit of a commotion. A young man, while leaving the M&S Food shop, had been stopped by some people with M&S uniforms on.

He struggled against them and started trying to pull away but the M&S people called out to a security guard standing close by, who started to run over. In the struggle, two bottles of wine fell out from under the young man’s coat and smashed on the ground. The commotion attracted some people who were working in the McDonald’s next door, who started to walk over. As the young man broke free of the M&S workers, the McDonald’s crew got hold of him and tackled him to the floor. He had struggled out of his coat in the process.

The security guard arrived, got the young man off the floor and held him tight, bringing him back to the M&S. Things calmed a little and in the chitchat with the M&S lot about what had happened, he saw his moment and broke free, running for the door.

It just so happened that the bench I was sitting on was on his route to the door. I would stop this petty thief! He needed to learn the rules of socially acceptable behaviour! And theft from a shop is incorrect behaviour! I would single-handedly teach him that he had to pay for his wine, just like everybody else.

Cue the James Bond theme tune….

Dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun. Dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun. DUH NUH, DUH NUH NUH!

Being the quick-thinking gal that I am, I put my leg up as he ran past, to trip him up and gave an extra little kick, right on his shin, as he ran by me. Grrr. I was getting nasty. See? I’m way tougher than James Bond.

Then he dropped to the floor, gripping his leg in agony, which I’d basically broken, because of my extreme toughness and strength. I leapt up and made a Citizen’s Arrest and was later awarded numerous medals for my bravery.

O no, wait, sorry, that was me daydreaming. What actually happened was he kept running as though I hadn’t done a thing and got away.

But still…. I was very brave, don’t you think?

The time I got into a fight

Are you ready for this story? I bet you thought I was quite chilled out, not the type to get all excitable? Well, if that is what you thought about me, everything is about to change. Get ready to hear the story of My Big Fight.

There was a girl at school called Gemma Williams. She had fluffy hair and a slightly nasal voice and that’s all I really remember about her. O, I also remember some silly stories she told. For example, she said her hair had been dyed at the roots just after she was born because she was ginger and her parents hated it.

One time, when everyone was in the playground, we disagreed about something. I’ve no idea what. We were all standing in a group and she turned and walked away from me while I was in the middle of saying something. This infuriated me. I lifted my right foot and whipped it against her leg. Who knows why I did this?! I never punched or kicked or anything.

Anyway, I kicked the top of her leg. She looked taken aback and scurried off.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was My Big Fight!

It’s still the most violent exchange I’ve ever taken part in, apart from when I went to karate classes and kickboxing classes but that doesn’t count.

After The Fight, she ran off to the toilet and was apparently seen rubbing and punching the part of her leg that I had kicked. She then ran off to the teacher and told her and showed off the reddened leg. I was duly told off and my lesson was learned.

And I have never had a fight since then. I am a reformed character and have turned my back on violence.

I bet you’re all relieved to hear I’m back on the straight and narrow after all that… um…. fighting…

PS. I googled the name of the boy I wrote about the other day in The Boy I Once Loved and he’s doing a lot of acting now. He lives in London and was in a musical I went to see a few years ago! How strange.

My first bikram yoga class

I went to bikram yoga for a little while last year. Hands up who’s been to bikram yoga? So you guys know exactly what I’m about to tell you. For those of you who don’t know what bikram yoga is, it’s like yoga on acid. The first few classes, it’s mental. It’s a yoga class in a heated room, something to do with relaxing the muscles so you can stretch further in the poses. I thought I’d share my first experience of bikram yoga to make you aware of exactly what is involved in this intriguing new exercise class.

All I knew on my first class was that it was yoga in a heated room. Sounds interesting, I thought. I’ll go along for a trial class. Little did I know.

I was in a t-shirt and leggings, suitable attire for a yoga lesson. I entered the room, found a space for my mat and sat down. I noticed everyone else was dressed in barely anything. All the men were just wearing swim shorts, no t-shirts. The women were wearing little crop tops and tiny shorts. It was like being at a swimwear photo shoot.

I was wearing more clothes than anyone else in the room and suddenly was like, ‘What is wrong with these people? This isn’t a fashion parade. Why are they showing off their bodies? Have these people got no discretion?!’

And then the class started. The teacher entered and turned up the heat and for the next hour and a half, I was a complete mess. If you’d have asked me my name, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you it. My thoughts during the class went something like this….

OMYGOODNESS I’M GOING TO PASS OUT! What is she asking me to do with my leg? I think I’ll fall into a heap and disintegrate if I attempt that. Just keep control of yourself, keep control. I might have to sit down. Water! Water! Ok, let’s get involved again, whoops, stood up too quickly! Head rush. Sit down again. TOO HOT! I wish I hadn’t worn so many clothes now. O no, I think that tickling on my elbow is a bead of sweat which has run all the way down there from my armpit. Ugh, there is a sweat patch on my mat where I’ve been sitting. Ok, get up. Doing some kind of twisting leg and arm thing. Try to concentrate on one spot and keep my balance, the teacher is saying. How can I concentrate?! How can I concentrate when I’m melting? I THINK I’M GOING TO DIE! Can you die of too much heat? If no-one has before, I’ll be the first. I feel like I’ve been in here forever. How long has it been? Omygoodness, only 15 minutes. 1 hour 15 minutes to go still. I can feel delirium setting in. I think my brain is actually sweating. I’m starting to fear FOR MY LIFE. I’m being asked to balance on one leg and hold my hands in prayer position. I can barely concentrate on standing up, balancing is asking a bit much, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll just stand here, not fainting, and that will be my main achievement for my first class. Nope, not standing, sitting. I’ve never been this warm in my entire life….

After the class, I left the room, went into the corridor and leant on a window sill, trying to remember who I was. When I eventually stumbled into the changing rooms, I got into the shower, ran it on the coldest setting and stood there with trembling legs, holding onto the wall, trying to regain my composure.

My next two or three classes were similar to this but a little less messy each time. I eventually got to a point where I could go to a class without having to stop and sit down at all and I could still remember my name when I left the room.

For those of you who are thinking of trying a bikram yoga class anytime soon, let this post serve as a warning to you. Be prepared…!