Last weekend was all about two of my heroes: David Beckham and Jonny Wilkinson. One left the game he loved for good, the other achieved one of the highlights of his career. David, at 38, has achieved most things in the game, Jonny, 33, added the penultimate piece of the jigsaw to his.
I’m not…
In the past few weeks I’ve come across several articles in national newspapers highlighting the terrible plight of female models. Striving to maintain their size zero frames to fit the demands of casting directors and designers, who demand ever skinnier models, it seems many are even resorting to tissue paper to stave off their hunger pangs. Alongside stories of drug and alcohol abuse, it makes for powerful and upsetting reading.
But I feel duty bound to highlight that it isn’t just women who are expected to subject themselves to bizarre and often dangerous practices in order to look good on the pages of magazines.
Unless you count sledging and some distinctly inelegant attempts at waterskiing, no, I certainly hadn’t been skiing before.
Neither had Emilie, my girlfriend, and so it was with some trepidation that I asked her, just before Christmas ‘how would you feel about going skiing?’
But what she very quickly realised, and we have now both experienced, is that it wasn’t just a skiing holiday