Relationship tales

"Shall we try swapping positions tonight?" he smirked.
"Great idea!" she replied.
"You stand by the ironing board and I'll sit on the sofa and fart!"

Extracted from the book Why Men Want Sex and Women Need Love by Allan Pease.

Air On A G-String

I was watching the underwear fashion section on GMTV this morning and it got me thinking that you can tell a lot about a woman from the type of knickers she wears.

Ask yourself, are you a "thong" or a "Bridget Jones Granny Pants" type of gal?

Personally, I think we all have a little naughtiness tucked away in our drawers (chest of drawers, that is) as well as the old grey baggies that are never intended to see the light of day. And our choice of the day depends on which period of our life we are in.

I was once very much in the G-String category. Of the "Does she wear it, or floss with it?" variety! The smaller the better as far as I was concerned. Maybe it was an air hostess thing, flying to all those hot countries, but I certainly liked to feel the breeze (totally understand the boxers v jockeys, guys). Or maybe it all came down to comfort. The lighter the thong, the better.

These days I am more into smoothing the lumps and bumps and a new type of comfort which comes from the knowledge that nothing is getting past these babies! My M&S magic knickers, in a fetching shade of beige, are never far from reach, my security blanket against the world. Would I swap them for a bejewelled all singing, all dancing miniscule thong? Not on my life!

There are obviously a lot of women out there exactly like me, because the range of magic knickers is getting bigger (or should I say more extensive) by the day. In fact they are taking underwear departments by storm. Where once the 'control garments' were tucked away in a quiet corner, these days the store mannequins wear their industrial strength underwear centre stage, standing on their podiums with pride, hand on hip with a "Come and get me, boys - if you dare!" sneer on their lips.

So this morning came the answer to all our dreams. Ladies, I give you the new frontier.

M&S have brought out a new style of magic knicker, with seductive lace panelling down the sides and a sexy zip down the front. It's now called Shapewear.

Bridget Jones, eat your heart out!

Look How Far You've Come

February 2009

We arrive at Geneva Airport and find our transport for the slopes. The minibus pulls out of the airport, crosses the border into France and begins to wind its way up into the mountains.

The driver leans over and switches on the radio. He tunes into a local French station and the haunting strains of Dire Straits drift over me and wrap me in a warm blanket of familiarity.

“These mist covered mountains..."

I gaze out the window at the snow topped mountains, the peaks barely visible for the mist rolling in.

I sit back and daydream.

It’s November 1995. I’m gazing out the window of the Neilson’s Ski Holidays coach that’s taking the reps and ski guides over to the mountains for the winter season. We are all headed for different resorts but for now we are all together, some chatting, some sleeping, some sitting quietly thinking of the months to come.

It’s eight months since I asked for a job whilst on a skiing holiday with friends in Isola 2000. And pure luck that I found myself in a bubble lift face to face with the head man of Neilson’s. Sometimes you have to give life a little push and seize the opportunity – after all, no-one’s going to do it for you.

Someone hands a cassette to the Neilson’s driver. Brothers In Arms – Dire Straits. The haunting melody fills the coach and we all fall silent in awe at our first view of the distant mountains.

“These mist covered mountains...”

Suddenly it was worth the hassle of getting from Edinburgh to Luton (no Easyjet in those days), getting kitted out with uniforms and then piling onto a coach with all our worldly belongings to make a long and uncomfortable journey through the night across the channel and down through France into Switzerland.

It was the start of six magical months as a ski rep. In my case, in Verbier, playground to the rich and famous.

Verbier wasn’t without its challenges. In those days it was up to us to devise our own après ski programme (and make a decent profit for the company). Verbier was rich, standoffish,and not interested in rowdy ski parties. However, little by little I broke down the barriers and the locals let me in on their world (or part of it at least).

I didn’t ski every day. Funny how, when you have it on your doorstep, you can take it or leave it. And with Verbier being a top class resort, I was always aware of just how good a lot of the skiers were. It was made worse by the fact my uniform had “The No 1 Name In Skiing” in very distinctive colours emblazoned across the back, and I always felt I should be tackling an icy mogul field or be waist deep in fresh powder rather than doing a sedate “sort of parallel” descent down an intermediate run.

But bit by bit my skiing improved and in the ensuing years, long after hanging up my rep’s clipboard and microphone, I enjoyed many a ski holiday with friends.

And then one day I got married, had a son, and my skis lay cocooned in their ski bag gathering dust in the rafters of the garage. My boot bag sat in a dusty corner, buried under the junk amassed over what seemed like a lifetime of hoarding.

I was once so proud of my beautiful skis. 190’s.Long, sleek and slender, the length displaying to the world that I knew what I was doing. A badge of honour carried over my shoulder.

I had chosen them carefully during a ski test on an Austrian glacier one May, where I had the pick of the new skis for that season. I had clicked into the bindings and the skis felt light as air, curving, gliding, propelling me down the mountain with a rush of pure adrenaline and elation. They were the proverbial glass slipper, the perfect fit. And colour co-ordinated - my skis, my boots, my poles, my all-in-one ski suits.

For a few brief moments I put my skis aside in favour of snowboarding (in the early 90’s it was super cool to be out there with the hip and trendy boarding set) but I always came back to my skis. I didn’t get the same buzz from boarding. Just massive bruises and knees like footballs.

“Et maintenant.....” The radio announces an old song by Michel Sardou and interrupts my reverie. My eyes focus on the present day. We are arriving in Morzine in the Portes de Soleil region of France.

It’s been fourteen years since my last ski holiday. What will it be like?

We collect our short, fat skis from the hire shop (I was right not to bring my antiquated 190’s. They would have looked totally out of place, and worse still, they no longer matched my new 2 piece outfit ).

We took the bubble to the top of the mountain, emerging into the sunshine beside one of the sun terraces. I tightened my boots, slipped my gloved hands through the straps of the poles and stepped into my bindings. Click. Click. I pushed off and that familiar rush of adrenaline mixed with pure elation washed over me.

I didn’t tackle the icy mogul field. I stayed well clear of the powder. And at times my skis were more snowplough than parallel. But there’s nothing in the world that beats the feeling of satisfaction when you reach the bottom of a run and look back up to see where you’ve come from.

And what a great metaphor for life!

Because you should always take the time to look back and see how far you’ve come. Just as you must always have a clear vision of where you’re going.

After all, if you don’t know where you’re going, how will you know when you get there?

Hallelujah - Alexandra Made It To No1

Just as Obama last week, Alexandra Burke achieved her dream of winning the X Factor.

She achieved it through hard work, through focus and through knowing what she wanted and where she wanted to be.

The knock back she received three years ago only served to spur her on and make her more determined, and she used that time wisely, honing her skills, working towards the day she knew would come.

We can all learn a lesson from Alexandra. When you get a knockback, you have a choice. You can lie down or you can come back fighting.

Most of the men I admire today came back from nothing. Paul McKenna was down to his last few pennies, Anthony Robbins built a successful business and lost it all, leaving him with less than nothing. Simon Cowell was virtually bankrupt, Victor Mark Hansen was declared bankrupt by the courts. Richard Branson had many failures. Peter Jones hit rock bottom.

In other words, there’s hope for all of us. As the saying goes, “Once you hit rock bottom, there’s only one place to go and that’s up”.

So, if you’re going through hard times, start asking yourself what you really want. Take the time to listen, and you might find the answer surprising.

Then, once you know what you want, TAKE ACTION. Start focusing on the future, and think of how you can get there.

What’s the one thing you can do today that will bring you one step closer to your goal? It doesn’t have to be a big thing. Start with baby steps.

Stu Mittleman, the world record holder for Ultra Distance running, said

“I never ran 1000 miles.
I could never have done that.
I ran one mile 1000 times.”

So start with those baby steps.

But whatever you decide to do, START.