Auschwitz

Auschwitz. A word which conjures up quite possibly the most horrific thoughts and images known to mankind. So then, why was this most infamous of places on my 40 before 40 list of places to visit?

I guess it goes back to my time at school. As a geeky 14 year old I had a couple of passions, my first being sport. I am also a massive fan of History, so much so that when choosing my options to study for GCSE I practically had my History teacher in tears, begging me to do History over PE! Luckily for my career path I chose the latter, however my interest in the historical events which have shaped our country and in a small way I guess, my life, has always been there. So I wanted to see for myself the place which has witnessed the horrors of the Second World War.

With an old school friend we flew to Krakow over the August bank holiday weekend.

Auschwitz itself is formed of two main sites open to the public for tours. Auschwitz I with its small visitor centre and guide book shop was the first stop on our journey. Armed with headsets and a small map we followed a guide around the edge of the site to the famous gates seen in films such as Schindler's List. Despite the number of visitors the site was eerily quiet, there was a distinct lack of birds singing and the sky seemed permanently grey. The buildings housed a range of people - men and women - and also were utilised for different purposes. The cells were unbelievably small, even for people of the time who didn't have the volume of food and the unhealthy lifestyles of today. Seeing the wall where people were shot, the vast quantities of belongings behind glass panels and indeed the human hair. Tears were in my eyes and whilst I held it together, many didn't. One woman in particular was quite overcome by the horrific scenes.

The gas chambers. One could see how those being led into them may not question that they were not showers. The original pipework remained. The sheer quantity of people that were killed here is still incomprehensible.

Silently we were led to a bus stop where we caught the bus to Auschwitz II (Birkenhau).  A 5 minute drive brought us to another recognisable scene - the railway leading through the main arch into the camp.  Again we were led around by a guide. Again we were silent. The bunks that housed 10 members of a family, the gas chambers in ruins and the railway line complete with an original carriage. All of these things added to our understanding of the events that happened there. Auschwitz II was vast, the buildings laid out in regimental rows and again surrounded by barbed wire fences over which the birds didn't fly.

Throughout our morning we felt sad yet at the same time respectful towards those that had died under this terrible regime. At times I felt angered by others who did not share this level of respect. Taking photos in the gas chambers, zooming in on the personal belongings and talking on mobile phones when in a room that evoked such sad reactions amongst most were all behaviours that others felt it acceptable to display. One wonders why they were actually there visiting in the first place!

Auschwitz has left its mark on me. Upon returning home I've read the books I bought and made it my mission to develop an even greater understanding of this period of European history. Although sad and sombre, it was one of the most interesting trips I have even taken.

What does failure really mean?

Failure - good or bad? For many, the word failure has a very negative connotation.  Indeed, as someone who seemingly breezed through school with a handful of excellent grades followed by university with a top degree, failure seems to have eluded me. Even in more recent years achieving a Postgraduate Diploma followed shortly by a Masters, failure in Academia certainly has been, thankfully, a distant threat.

So where have I failed, or indeed not achieved as I had hoped? Well at 18 I thought that by 30 I would be married and settled down with kids. However after a string of short- and one very long - term disastrous relationships, this has not occurred. Am I upset/worried/concerned/horrified at this? Selfishly yes, a little....

In my career I might not have progressed as I had hoped.  My friends and family have always seen me as driven, determined and striving to better myself. Why then, am I not aspiring to the ranks of SLT?

In education the recent trend has been to promote growth mindsets within the children we teach. "I cannot do it YET" is the phrase we want to hear our charges mutter, instead of trying something once then jacking it in for something more easily achieved to acquired the instant gratification the youth of today seem to always want. Yet as worthy as Carol Dweck's philosophy is in nurturing resilience, and it is wholeheartedly one I subscribe to in learning new 'things', there comes a time when people have to learn that failure is inevitable in some disciplines.  Not everyone can be good at everything. Take one of the sports I teach for example - athletics - and look at the different skills, body shapes, heights and weights required to succeed in different disciplines. In life we all have things we find easy and we all have things we find hard and may have to admit defeat in.

So why break up my string of positive 40 before 40 posts with some thoughts on failure? Well, my single status and lack of career ambition aside, I have done something today which I have not done for a long time. I failed. After 3 days of sea kayaking I had to admit it was not for me. I could kind of deal with the pain my back was causing, or the queasy feeling in my stomach as the boat overcame another 2m high wave but what really got to me was the fact that I was constantly at the back, always drifting behind. My arm strength was no match for the boys, nor the rough seas and I realised I was not enjoying it.  Me: an adventurous soul, a PE teacher, always up for a challenge. I had meet my match.

For the past 3 years I've struggled in my personal life with a number of issues, one of which has been anxiety which has brought about panic attacks in various situations, not always anticipated either! Today, I recognised those feelings, feelings which 18 months ago would have sent me cowering inside - afraid to admit weaknesses, afraid of the black dog chasing me down once more and afraid of how my inability to do something made me look to others. But today was different. Yes I cried. A little. Yes I felt stupid for enlisting the help of the support boat but most of all I didn't feel ashamed to say "I can't do it". 

In the past there would big things, big and small, that I would beat myself up about if I went anywhere near failure of a goal or task. I am actually smiling as I type at the times I have gotten angry with my lack of willpower for sneaking a sly smoke at a party or for having a walking break during a half marathon! What I've come to realise, and as today illustrates, it doesn't matter!

The support I've had from various people and the reading and practices I've done on things such as mindfulness have helped me immensely to get to where I am today. 18 months ago, or even before then, I would have soldiered on, in pain, tearful and hating every moment only to have a massive meltdown at the end of the day. Instead I got a lift in the boat and through the training I have done, managed to tell my brain and myself that it is OK to fail and when you've paid a small fortune for a holiday you are meant to enjoy it. We only have one life and if you don't enjoy something, change it.

Although a very small thing and I know people will scoff at its insignificance, today taught me a lot.  Whilst in my career I might never want to scale the heights of SLT, nor may I ever have children, it is OK to admit your faults and fail. So long as you give things a good shot! Precisely the message I put across to the kids I teach everyday. It has just taken me till now to realise that self - compassion is needed here, towards myself, too.

Bradley Wiggins eat your heart out...

'I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike....'

Well, I did until I saw this.....

Watching the London 2012 Olympics on tv and live (though not the cycling, unfortunately) was one of the most amazing highlights of my life. Seeing the guys and girls on their bikes whizz round the track at ridiculous speeds and win all those medals, many gold, inspired me. I'd always liked cycling, though on a heavy mountain bike with chunky tyres and more off road than on, and certainly not on a wooden velodrome track.

So 3 years, almost to the day, after London 2012, Lyndsay and I arrived on a cold, wet and windy Sunday morning to meet our instructor, Paul.  We were kitted out with bikes, had our clothing checked (nothing in pockets, no jewellery, no watches) and shown how to ride on the flat 'cote d'azur' blue section at the base of the track. Looking over my shoulder, pulling myself along on the safety rail and pushing my feet down hard into the pedals allowed me to get started, all be it with a wobble.

Remembering that your feet are fixed, there are no brakes or gears and you are riding a fixie are thoughts that went through my head and literally terrified me! But after a couple of goes we were ready to try riding on the track - firstly the black line, then the red line, then above the red line..... This was where I really found it hard. On the curve I would end up riding off the track about 2/3 of the way round. Apparently my speed was too slow! So, with 'push down on your left' resonating through my ears I set off in the last 15mins of free time riding. I did it - 3 whole laps on or above the blue line, which incidentally is at 45 degrees and approx 2.5m up the track. It was scary stuff and my quads were burning but at last I could say I had ridden the Olympic Velodrome properly!

Rooftop Cinema fun

A little research into rooftop cinemas brought up the Rooftop Film Club. This 'club' has several venues in and around London where you can watch both old and new films from the comfort of deckchairs on some high rooftops around the city with amazing views. The Bussey Building in Peckham seemed the most accessible for me, mainly in terms of public transport links and also due to the timings of the film screenings.

So, it with a little cheesy excitement that myself, Kelly and Michael arrived at 7.30pm one night in July to watch the 80s classic, Top Gun. Before the film we were able to soak up the laid back rooftop atmosphere, enjoy some pizza and drinks and listen to a bloke playing a pretty good repertoire of songs on his guitar.  At 8.30pm we were let in, wrist-banded up, purchased the obligatory share bags of sweets and chose our deckchairs! Additionally we were very pleased to have been given some lovely fleece blankets to help keep the cold old as funnily enough we we not used to sitting on a rooftop in central London of an evening.

The film was good, brought back lots of memories of seeing it the first, second and third times around and was still as hilarious in parts as ever.

Great night, fab venue and I cannot wait to return for another film.

Tonight Matthew, I am going to be Banksy...

I last picked up a paintbrush about 22 years ago, apart from adding some life into my boring white lounge walls that is! At school I can remember making clay animals, pots and bowls, none of which I still own today due to them being completely unrecognizable as to their intended use!  My poor parents still have one of my creations - a pink clay elephant - it sits proudly with its superglued tail on their bookcase. Everything else, however, has been filed in the bin. As for painting, I have some memories of using acrylics at school but can't for the life of me remember what I painted!

So it was with some trepidation that I agreed to attend a 'pop up painting' event. Based in pubs and bars around London and Surrey, these events bring painting to you in a relaxed environment with a drink or two. You are shown shortcuts as to how to achieve a copy of a famous painting, or indeed, how to create your own very different masterpiece! Well, that is what I was told!

So I was booked onto a session in Richmond, arrived in plenty of time and had a drink to calm my nerves. We met all the other people also on the course and chose our seats, taking into account the lighting and getting a decent view of the picture we were copying. I specifically chose to paint Banksy. I liked the graffiti style and thought that it didn't matter if the painting was not quite right!

The background paint went on first. I struggled with the watering down and merging of the colours but got the hang of it eventually. I think a little more practise wouldn't go astray! Then came the girl and her balloon. This was a little more tricky. Using the white to fill in the negative space was a new concept to me, it highlighted the arm and added texture. After 2 hours it was finished. I stood up, walked backwards and looked from a distance. Actually quite pleased with it. And, yes, it will hang on my wall!

Wild Camping Omani style!

Well Oman is one of the few countries in the world in which wild camping is legal, and safer than most other countries unbelievably! So, with a 16 day trip to Oman and realising the cost of hotels (plus all the other fantastic activities we had planned) Ali and I chose to camp for 7 nights in our own tent.  These 7 nights went as follows:

1) A night on a pebble beach, chosen at dusk after failing to find the beach we had hoped. Disturbed by donkeys eating rubbish left previously on the beach!

2) We then camped in our tent within the grounds of a hotel! Nothing special there!

3) Next we attempted a climb up Jebel Shams and camped just below the top...

4) Next we spent a night in a big field surrounded by lots of Omani groups, some playing music, others BBQ-ing but not really somewhere that was photo worthy!

5) Our next beach camp was on a public beach, very quiet once everyone cleared off....

6) Finally we camped for 2 nights on a lovely little beach reached by a steep track for which our 4WD was definitely needed

So, several beaches and other camping spots later I have seen sunsets and sunrises. I would certainly recommend Oman to anyone interested in wild camping.

Jet skiing

So, we're camping on the beach in Oman with no idea that my dream of riding a jet ski is about to come true......

Brrrrrrrrrrrr, we hear the noise at first and two men on jet skis zoom around the rocky outcrop. Already immersed in the Omani culture and the politeness and helpfulness of the locals that we had met so far, I had no hesitation in waving and shouting 'hello' to them.

They circled in the bay and returned, I waved again and jokingly asked for a go! To my amazement they said yes! So 5 minutes later I was sat in control on a jet ski with an Omani man sat behind me. Any other country and I might have had alarm bells ringing, or indeed not asked for a ride at all, however I felt perfectly safe and this was an amazing opportunity.

On a jet ski things seem faster than in a car. At 20mph it feels like 40 and at 40mph the water blurs and the wind rushing past your face stops you hearing much at all. Turning the craft was strange. The faster you were going the easier it was and it was helped with you leaning to the side, even if it felt like you were going to fall off.

10mins and Ali and I swapped. With a little more guts, or maybe because she went second, Ali seemed to go much faster, making me want another go but we really couldn't impose!  We said our goodbyes and waved our jet ski heroes off.  Another amazing experience in Oman!