I’m not going to lie to you, when the email came around at work on my first day that they were going to do a sports day complete with wheel barrow racing, it’s all I could do to stop myself from slamming my head off the desk.
When I read the detail of the email *that* turned to “you’ve got to be fucking joking me?!” … “Health week will culminate with a sports day in Hyde Park with such activities as the egg and spoon race; the sack race and the wheelbarrow race” … The Fuck?!
So after 5 weeks of being in the job, you’re expecting me to crawl along a potentially shit-strewn park, with my legs akimbo, in the hands of a near stranger … I. Don’t. Think. So!! No-no-no-no…No!
A week before the said date I’m almost thankful I’ve wrecked my back and I’m needing physio and acupuncture ~ valid excuse, booya! Come the day however, these are not my feelings, I’m screaming with the rest of my team wishing I wasn’t the sparrow with the broken wing, wishing I could join in.
It was awesome.
As I’m in the pub afterwards with the guys I look around and think “yeah, this is my team” … then the jaeger bombs arrive and yeah turns into “hell yeah” … not so much 7 hours later, not remotely.