As mentioned in previous posts, for the last few weeks, I have been taking boxing lessons with Naomi Gibson, aka Girls in Gloves, at the very charming Body Studio in Shoreditch (which, if you're interested in having a go at boxing classes, but maybe put off by the prospect of a bunch of sweaty brutes leering at you, is a really friendly and non-intimidating venue to try it out).
Another week, another attempt to better myself via the medium of sport and a pretend medal table. I must say, the fact that I'm the only person who's competed in every single sport yet still not managed to take the top spot on the table, is becoming a little humiliating.
Leaving the cinema, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. A sense of achievement. Not because our blue-eyed Bond had foiled the evil schemes of a peroxide partisan but because the film captured a true sense of contemporary British identity.
I never realised how much I actually relied on my phone to help me muddle through my new life in London until, in true London style, it was stolen.
British historians have probably enjoyed 2012. Two big set pieces, the Olympic Games and Diamond Jubilee, proved the ideal invitation to reflect on where we have come from, who we are now, and where we are going
I left the cinema feeling cheated. This was meant to be a James Bond film. They could have replaced the long dialogue scenes with more action, they could have replaced the darkness with more elements of fun, they could have.... they could have....... they could have made it better.
If I'm honest, this event was a bit of a shower.
I found it quite difficult to attack a friend with a sword, even if it was a faux one, and I think really, this can only be a good thing.
More people have walked on the moon than have successfully rowed around the Great British coastline.
If the London 2012 Olympic Games have taught us anything it is that football doesn't quite matter anymore.
Recent high profile news stories have thrust outsourcing into the public spotlight and under this brightness, our industry may seem pale and washed out. Despite this, it has to be understood that whenever private sector companies bid for public sector contracts, there is always a great amount of scrutiny through formal EU governed processes - after all, it is our money that is being spent and we want it spent in the best possible way.
We've heard enough love songs about relationships in our time. It's all 'baby', 'kiss my this' and 'touch my that'... 'ooh I'm so happy', 'now you're a twat'. Bloody hell... I'm even at it now. But what about all of those other people in our lives that might be worth a mention in song? Gecko are a band that generally like to steer clear of sounding like anyone else.
Read any biography of a great man or woman and you will almost always find evidence of the ruthlessness, cruelties and immoralities that arose from their single-minded pursuit of greatness.
A song by Erin K is like no other.
Yes, London 2012 is for many, just a long and distant memory of a fantastic story the world will never forget. We miss the Games as much as anybody else; the longing pang to be reunited with our shark-like stage striking often- but it's okay. It escaped 'Free Willy'-style and now lives in the ocean deep. (Maybe.)
In almost every international tournament, Britons baying for success end up disappointed, often before the event is even half way through. As a nation, we stand these people - who regularly end up in the newspaper for one nightclub misdemeanour or another, one extramarital trifling or another, or the occasional on-pitch inappropriate remark - on pedestals and eulogise them as pillars of our nation.