Challenge 24 - HAVE A FISH PEDICURE

It was with more than a little trepidation that we dipped our tootsies into the fish infested tanks at the 'This Little Piggy... Fish Spa' in Boscombe.

Garra Rufa (for indeed that is their name!) are described as toothless and 'friendly', but to us they looked like 100s of predatory, ravenous, shark-like carnivores with a big fat grudge against humans.  We took a deep breath, put our trust in the advertising slogans, lowered our feet into the water...... and screamed......for about 5 minutes!  The fish instantly attached themselves to our feet and sucked - the sensation was bizarre and initially alarming.  It was a strange mixture of tickling, pins and needles, and mild electric shocks. There then followed a 20 minute fish feeding frenzy, during which we distracted ourselves by sampling some weird and wonderful teas, and gradually acclimatised to the sensation of being eaten alive.

By the end it was verging on pleasant... and the softness and smoothness of our feet afterwards made us forget our initial unbridled panic and girlie screams.

Just for the record the fish in my tank looked like this at the end, having enjoyed 20 minutes of gorging themselves on the generous supply of hard skin that I kindly donated - the fish equivalent of a double Big Mac with extra fries, washed down by an extra thick milkshake.  No wonder they all sank to the bottom, emitting air bubbles from both ends, and mouthing 'no more, no more', when I removed my feet.


A huge thank you to my lovely friend, Denise, for a wonderful day out and for my fabulous feet!

Challenge 23 - BE A PAGE 3 GIRL

Move over Sam Fox and Linda Lusardi, (who? - check the archives!) - I have arrived in the world of glamour modelling!  All those years of practising my posing and my pouting have paid off - the world's media have seen my potential and given me a page 3 spread.  I expect by tomorrow I will be gracing the noticeboard of every motor mechanic's garage and the inside of every schoolboy's locker. Being a fantasy figure can be a heavy burden..

Sadly, I have had to share the limelight with 4 other 'belles', but I think it is pretty obvious which of us is going to make it in the cut-throat world of modelling.  Second from left, in case you're in any doubt.  Just for the record, I do believe in world peace, and I love helping little children.

Is that the phone ringing?  If it's Pirelli, tell them they are too late, the New Milton Advertiser has exclusivity....

Challenge 22 - GO TO THE DOGS

I have been to the dogs - which does not equate to "I have been dogging" - that is a quite different challenge and one that is not on my list.  Yet.

The dogs are of course greyhounds, and last night 11 of us stepped out of our cosy, cosetted, cotton-wooled comfort zones, and entered a whole new world of traps, totes, trios and testosterone.  We very quickly adapted to our new environment, guided along by the helpfulness of the stadium staff and the friendliness of our fellow punters. In fact our lack of experience and professionalism was only exposed by our frequent reference to the dogs as 'horses', and our attempts to bet with 50p!

Our success at betting was varied - those who studied the form doing less well than those who picked the 'nice names' or 'pretty colours'. We had been advised to avoid dogs that wee-ed or poo-ed before a race, but the fact that they all 'performed' on the way to the traps blew that theory out the window. Thanks to the efforts of Grove Ryan Lil, Back By Evening, Uptoujim and Gold Digger among others, we ended up in profit - quite appropriately, I celebrated our success with 4 pints of cider, and started to contemplate giving a retired greyhound (or six) a good home!  Time to leave.  The highlight of the evening was a £15 win by Denise on a £1 reverse forecast (no idea, before you ask!) and the lowlight was the burger, if that's what it was claiming to be!

If you've not been to the dogs, my advice is GO.  Just leave your life savings - and your preconceptions - behind.

Challenge 21 - DO THE MOONWALK

On Saturday evening, five large pink flamingos were spotted craning their long pink necks, shaking down their tail feathers and leaving a flat in London en route to Hyde Park Corner, with energy bars and blister packs in their bum bags (no self-respecting flamingo leaves home without one!).  They caused a bit of a commotion on the Tube, and a special mention should go to Samuel Marsh and Andy Reynolds for giving up their seats for the old birds!

Once in Hyde Park, they flocked around the other 17000 fabulous creatures who had assembled there, including zebras, tigers, cowboys, superheros, Wally (where?), Davina MacColl, Jennifer Saunders, Tracey Thorn (I love her) to name but a few.  At 11.30pm they were seen circling the park, wearing bras and pinkness, but not much else, despite the arctic chill in the air.  Allegedly one flamingo was heard saying in an Irish accent as they crossed the Serpentine 'isn't the Thames quiet at night?'. Reports of sightings through the night have come in from Marble Arch, Buckingham Palace, and the Tower of London.  Concern was raised around the Globe Theatre, when the flamingos could be heard going 'ouch, ouch, ouch' and 'are we nearly there yet?'

The mood in the flock reached a particular low when someone shouted out 'Go, penguins, go', but spirits were lifted again by one lovely policeman on Westminster Bridge, who said the flamingos had the best costumes of the night!!!!  Costumes?  He must have meant plumage!

At 5.00 am the flamingos returned to Hyde Park, a little bit bedraggled, a little bit sore and a big bit shattered, but with big smiles across their beaks.  They were rewarded with medals round their necks, and with the knowledge that in a tiny way they may have made a difference.


Police are now concerned about their whereabouts.  They were not spotted leaving the park, and have not been seen since, although a large pile of pink feathers was found in the refreshments tent. Rumours that they were observed drinking Bucks Fizz in a flat in Barons Court have been strongly denied! (Thanks Helen and Andrew - you were fab).

Challenge 16 - RAISE £1000 FOR CHARITY (Update)

Thank you!

Thank you!

Thank you!

Thank you!

Thank you!

Thank you!

Thank you!

I did it!  £1000 is going to help in the fight against Breast Cancer.  My thoughts are with everyone for whom this donation comes too late, and my hopes are with everyone who may benefit one day.

I am blessed to have such wonderful, generous friends and family!

Challenge 20 - DO STREET DANCE

Yo!  Been busting some moves down in the 'hood with my crew.  Been locking, and popping, and freezing, and krumping, and b-boying.  It was da bomb!  Word up!

In other words I have been to a rather splendid dance class, and I had a thoroughly marvellous time performing some rather tricky steps.

This challenge was presented to me by my beautiful, young friend, Joanna, after I had consumed too much loopy juice.  In the spirit of my adventurous and oh-so-loopy year, and under the influence of alcohol, I said yes to attending a street dance class, - having given my word, there was no backing out, despite the pleadings of my 15 year old son!

Yes, I was the oldest there by some considerable margin, but I was not the oddest (that accolade goes to a 6ft 6 super-skinny 40 year old man).  And yes, I did consider asking them to turn the music down, or to at least play something with a tune.  And yes, I most definitely looked completely ridiculous, being half a dozen moves behind everybody else, slipping on my own personal puddle of sweat and with a bright red, rather wrinkly face.  I suspect also that on 'the street', giggling is a no-no, so I broke that rule too!

I had a very phat time, and on the embarrassing-your-children scale, this is a winner!  All credit to 19-year-old Joanna, for accompanying me and for doing it with style, humour and not a hint of a red face.  You're a star.

Now can I order a Stannah to take me upstairs, because my legs have just reminded my head how old I actually am.

Challenge 19 - CATCH A FISH

It was THIS big!



It's official - I am a natural born angler, waiting patiently for hours, teasing my prey with little canopes of bread and sweetcorn, luring it out of the reeds with my fish song, sensing its stealthy approach with every fibre of my body, crouching like a coiled spring ready to respond to the slightest tug on the line.  Sadly the first time I did have a bite, I had a cup of tea in my hand, so could merely shout "Look, look, my little orange thingy (aka float) has disappeared".  This gave the little fishy in question enough time to carefully remove the hook, say grace, feast on the bread and sweetcorn sandwich, wash it all down with a little digestif, do a little dance routine, warn all his friends, and then slink off into the murky depths.  I knew he'd be back, that I had merely whetted his appetite, - but judging by the tone of Iain's voice and the grimace on his face, I don't think he was so sure!

He did come back, and this time I was ready. I reeled him in, in what can only be described as an adrenalin-fuelled, gladiatorial fight between woman and fish.  Woman won, and I landed a 3-4lb rather handsome carp.  We became acquainted (though he was a little slimy for my personal tastes), had our photo taken together, and he was returned within minutes to the pond.  Job done, challenge ticked, and I am feeling chuffed.

Iain has yet to put into words the enormous delight he obviously feels that I can now accompany him on his fishing expeditions.  No need to ever feel lonely again, Iain!