Let me stand next to your fire

Another leap into the unknown, the firewalk came quickly after the fantastic day in Worcestershire with the Scooby and the Aston. After the cancellation of the London one due to illness, the Southampton one because of over subscription and the Bridgewater one as it was on the day of my grading, I would be travelling down to Gosport, raising money for the KIDS charity which looks after disabled children. The organiser of the walk i'd missed a few weeks back gave a very generous offer of returning all the money I'd raised. I was tempted to take it and use it on a future one but it wasn't their fault I couldn't make it so I certainly wasn't going to take any money back from them.

With my borrowed sat nav in the car, despite leaving it a bit late, I was ready for the off. My

beloved Mavis now had a voice, but then started to get a wee bit confused. The estimated arrival time fluctuated from 6:30pm, to 7:00pm and then 6:45pm and decided to recalculate the journey during a key lane change which resulted in a few choice words which would have made a Tourettes sufferer blush. Despite the sat nav falling off the windscreen a few times (resulting in a few more words of wisdom), mavis got me down there, not helped by the venue being ridiculously hard to find. It would have been easier trying to find a vegan in a butchers.

Arriving just after 7 I had time to get the formalities over with as well as having a first look at the fire I'd be walking over. For the first time at that point I had a moment of clarity of what I was about to do. I have nothing but a healthy fear of fire and was trying to work out how the hell I was going to make it across this without getting any blisters. A mate at work had done it before and sworn she'd received no blisters but I was still dubious. 7:30 and we we're all called into the 'Firewalkers only' room. I loved that bit, I've got this thing about wanting to peep behind those doors with 'private' on them so I felt I was getting one over on the owners of those doors! The size and decor of the room made it look as if we were about to hold a seance. It was just big enough to seat the 15 of us doing it and the very confident without being cocky guy who would be showing us how to do it. I, along with half the people there I think, expected some sort of special technique which had to be learnt in order to accomplish such a feat and, well there wasn't. We had the history of the event, examples around the world and the basics on what not to do. From what he was telling us it seemed nothing more than taking a deep breath and going for it, and that's, what it turned out, was exactly what we did. As a 'test of faith', he asked a couple of people to break an arrow using only their necks and a wall. The pointed bit was placed on the wall and the other end on their oesophagus (gap in the middle of your neck). Through nothing more than moving forward, the arrow broke and the willing volunteers had a cool souvenir. The final word was, if you can do that, have no worries about walking across fire.

After the pow wow, the 16 of us went outside. The small collection of people outside had grown to a crowd of cheering people surrounding the cordoned off hot coals. It was a great feeling that bit, I'd brought no one with me to watch but at that bit, everyone was getting the cheers. Through to where the coals were it was socks and shoes off, trouser legs up. Scott, the twice world record holder for firewalking and the guy who had taught us was to go first to ease any tension any doubters among us may have had. To be fair though, the coals in front of us looked only a fraction as daunting as the flaming logs I'd seen an hour earlier. The temperature of the coals was measured - 590°C, damn near 6 times the boiling point of water. I won't elaborate too much but we'd been told the popular scientific theories about how walking on such a temperature was possible. Scott took a breath, and over he went, little bit of smoke coming from each footstep. I couldn't help thinking of when I went skydiving. I remember the moment when people started leaving the plane we were in. Half of me was in turmoil but the other half kicked in and just excepted it as normal as everyone else was doing and it was the same here. "A perfectly sane man has just walked over fire. Fair enough, my turn!". A few of the others followed with no drama and it was my turn. So I took my breath, and off I went. I got to end, had my little cheer from the crowd and wiped my feet as we were all told to do, and joined the queue to have another go. We all went again, and again and when asked if anyone wanted one final go I was the last over. Nothing, no hot feet, blisters, not even the uncomfortable feeling of walking on an uneven surface. Picture walking barefoot outside, you always manage to find that one blasted stone, right on the heel. Nope, nothing. Weirdly enough the warm sensation came when we were stood on the grass at the end being bigged up by Scott and receiving our certificates. Afterwards I sat down to reply to all the texts but was scanning my feet for... something, ANYTHING! They were filthy but they were also flawless. It was about then it started kicking in what i'd done. I had trouble expressing the joy at having done something so fantastic to a rather sleepy sounding Dad on the home phone but I left it a few moments to let it all sink in. I'd walked over fire and felt thoroughly fantastic for having done so. As with moments such as the sky dive and find the bridge I loved the way it made me feel straight after. This bit will sound corny so apologies but it did feel like a semi phoenix rising from the flames moment, mainly because of it's timing and the fact this was my 3rd attempt at trying to do it. After feeling so rough the previous month I was getting back to how things used to be, health and postimism returning as one.

1. Dream helicopter ride - Best day ever

2. The leap of faith - Best single moment in my life

3. Rossifer's big apple

4. Find the bridge

5. Jet skiing

6. Back on track - Aston day

7 & 8 Getting stoned on the longest day

9. Fire walking

10. Climbing Snowdon

I was shocked but pleasantly surprised the day after when ranking this among the other entries in the book over the last couple of years. An epic evening the night before had reached no higher than 9th on my list, proving the effect the book has had on my life. This list was the 10 most enjoyable and didn't even include the more random entries such as the compost mile and the long walk home. Plenty of things coming up to look forward to, who knows how high up the list they'll feature. Now then, what's next...? ;)

Rossifer x

Big thanks to Scott and Mrs Scott from UK Firewalking and the peeps from KIDS.

Back on track

January saw a fantastic start to the year, February brought everything to an abrupt halt and now March has well and truly turned things around. After the swim on the first day of this year 2011 had the potential of being the best yet, the virus I had mid February soon had the danger of making it the worst of the Purple Book years. The 3 weeks of the illness which made has made me the sickest i've been since birth and the subsequent days trying to recover have had a huge impact on the way i've chosen to live my life. As well as the cancellation of my firewalk and a couple of social gatherings, my stone loss in weight as guaranteed a non appearance in both the half and full marathon for this year.

Negatives over, thanks to a group of lovely people at work bringing me daily food goodies and my own lovely two at home, the weight is going back on and the postimism is coming back. As well as that, the calendar brings with it a fantastic line up of events. For starters, the chance to watch an NBA game live, here in England. Still feeling rough, this would be one event I would not be denied. Watching the Nets playing the Raptors has well and truly re-sparked my love for the divine game. Next would be a trip to the theatre to watch the beautifully made War horse, not before having the best Thai food I've ever had. While both of these were fantastic, neither truly counted as one of my 'one cool thing a month' activities that I'd promised myself in January as it's all about participation. On the 24th I'd be walking over fire but first, I'd be driving my dream car.

Weirdly enough I have no fear (at the moment) at the thought of walking over red hot coals, but had a huge fear of getting behind the wheel of an Aston Martin DB9. I'd had the drive around in a Chrylser with 5 other guys to see the layout of the track. I knew nothing about racing lines and apex's so tried to remember everything being said. After the formalities, my name was called out. i was surrounded by Audis, Lambourgines, Ferrari's and the like but there was only one I was interested in and I was about to drive it. Getting behind the wheel, despite the über relxed instructor, I was starting to brick it. One thought came into my mind "don't you dare do anything to harm this beautiful car!". It was the first automatic car I'd ever been in, with the flappy panel gearbox I'd heard Jeremy Clarkson mention so often on Top Gear. I've got to say, without a shred of ego, it's the easiest car I've ever driven. Your left foot remains a passenger throughout, the right one needs only to brake and go faster, the gear changes are done by the finger tips and are effortless. The first lap feels surreal, I have no idea how fast I'm going but would imagine a milk float would have a fair chance of beating me to the corners. Being in a car designed to go fast, everything feels effortless. The 70+ mph I'd been doing in Mavis on the way up on the Motorway felt like I was going somewhere fast, the sense of speed is so much more in a small car. In a weird way I suddenly felt infinitely grateful to be working class and not made of money. I couldn't help thinking owners of cars like this could become blasé at such epic life moments. I'd be driving home in a Vauxhall Corsa which made those laps all the more special. In a similar way to my perfect day when I got to fly a chopper, it was being taken for a ride, not the actual driving / flying myself that was the highlight of the day.

After driving the Aston and having the picture taken it was the turn of the hot lap. The mate i'd promised the Subaru ride to was away on holiday so i'd be taking it myself. 2 laps of the track as a passenger with the Scooby being driven by a professional. I was in the back, joined by a couple. I was expecting to be driven expertly at speed, getting out at the end with a nice glow. What we got was an exhibition in skilled madness. The guy driving threw us around like he had 5 minutes to live and wanted to go out in style, he was damn good! Part of the makeshift track which is at an abandoned MOD site has a makeshift chicane made of cones which looks like a dead end until you reach them where there is a small gap. I had crawled up to this in 3rd gear in the Aston, the guy driving us decided he'd go at it in 5th, the skill of the dude was something to behold. For the spectators it was easy to see who had experienced what. The drivers came out with an air of smugness and quiet satisfaction, the passengers had one of two expressions; stunned disbelief or laughter! The woman sat in front of me had the first but me and her husband couldn't stop laughing. After taking the last of my photos after the ride I saw another couple with the same expression as mine. I knew exactly what they'd just been doing, they didn't stop laughing even once they'd walked back to their car.

With any luck luck in a few weeks I'll be back to full health (well full health for me anyway) and everything that was bad before will be nothing but a memory, one swiftly deleted. As long as the walk goes ahead OK this Thursday I'll be back on track on the averages, one cool thing a month minimum. With the half and full marathon out the window I'll be looking for everything else the Purple book has to offer.

All suggestions welcome as ever, answers on a postcard please :)

Rossifer x

Every cloud...

Tricky to be feeling hopeful when your next cough is due in a few minutes but after a bit of surfing earlier, I found a ray of hope: -

I'd started off the day e-mailing the organiser of the walk tonight saying I wouldn't be able to make it, then started looking for the next local one. It's not the easiest of things to search for, actual dates and times. There's plenty of gumph about how life changing it is and probably started off by someone who eats Pomegranates and Tofu but nothing I really needed. The only hope if you're going solo is the charity route. The money, as far as I was aware, for The Stroke Association had already been trotted off so it's another £120 in total needed. I received two e-mails a second ago, one from the lady in London saying how gutted she was I couldn't make it and would I like to reclaim all the sponsor money. Aside from my useless body i'm blaming no-one for this vile week so I wasn't prepared to ask for any of it back, end of the day it's a charity and taking back from it is a bit like insulting a puppy. If the timings are toughly the same I have a rather ominous 13 days to get this infernal mankiness out of my so that everything will stop tasting like chalk and barium and I'll finally be able to give this firewalking lark a go.

Rossifer x

The Body - No longer a temple

How I would keep my soul and throw my body asunder.

A seventh day spend awakening poised for the first wrench.

A day full of possibilities spent finding whichever position feels least grim.

'One cool thing a month' was the plan.

February has brought nothing but misery and boredom.

A chance to walk over fire, snatched, as I can barely walk over carpet.

May March bring with it better tidings as I curse this month and my body's incompetence.

25 days to go...

What's next

This year's aim - at least new fantastic thing a month. January's swim was good for starters, February looks even better. The What's next section further down the page will have details of the next big thing lined up.

New Years Swim in the Sea

New years day, always a weird one in my view as it always feels like two separate ones, the first one recovering from the night before and the other spend wandering aimlessly trying to find something on the telly or somewhere that's open to go to. This year though would be different, 2011 would be started in the same spirit I hope to maintain all year; it would be started off with a swim in the sea.

This was another one of those 1/2 dreading 1/2 looking forward to entries in the book. It was Mum's idea as naturally once it had been mentioned, it had to be done. I'd been told that wild swimming was quite invigorating but was dreading it as I've inherited my Dad's hatred of cold water. We're the same in the sense that once water of a certain temperature gets as high as the thighs and beyond we start cursing and singing soprano.

After failing to find any official New Year swims we thought we'd just find the closest coast and get it done. Mum picked out Hayling Island as it had some post-swim things to do and she'd been there as a kid with some pretty vivid memories, brought back once we'd crossed the bridge onto the island. After finding a spot full of beach huts (glorified sheds at ten times the price) the beach seemed clear so we shifted all the post swim stuff ready onto the beach, robes and hundreds of towels ready to get warm again after the dip. After returning from the car though the beach suddenly seemed to be crowded, all dog walkers, no one else daft enough to do what we had planned. I thought about waiting for the beach to clear but then thought 'sod it', let's get it done. Top off, shoes off, flip flops on and leg it into the water. Water up to my feet, cold! Up to the shins, not nice! Up to the thighs, I'm cursing, up to the waist and I'm singing soprano! There must have been a step in the sand as I suddenly sank up to my neck and started swimming. This was it, I was swimming in the sea! It was the weirdest sensation, it felt like having hundreds of nails prodding me all over and that feeling when your half asleep and someone rips the duvet off you and open the curtains all in one but in a good way, really invigorating. Mum didn't quite managed the swim bit as she found the same step I did and fell in but I'll let her off as she made it in the water and it was her idea for the day. The whole experience felt like the compost mile, bloody stupid in theory, painful in doing it but an infinite sense of satisfaction once it was done.

After getting out and trying desperately to get warm it was off for grub, cuppas and what else we can find. If you ever find yourself on the Island, go to Delia's diner and get yourself the BK Breakfast for the biggest plate of goodness you'll ever see. A quick visit to the arcade saw a go in the Van Gogh Colour Workroom, frustrations on the 2p piling up game and success on the dancing machine, two As and a B. A swim in the sea, changing of a flat tyre at 2 in the morning and a surprise cinema visit with an old antipodean friend of mine saw a more than memorable start to MMXI, much more of the same please :)

Rossifer x

P.s. Ignore whatever it says below, this was posted 02/01/11 - 2:05pm ;)