The past couple of weeks have been a bit mad on the work and social front. The week before last I travelled to Munich for work. I would like to say I made it through terminal 5 without entering the duty free area but really, not so much. In fact this time was really bad because I have started being given requests from work – oh Claire you travel, can you just get me xx moisturiser or perfume, I’ll give you the money. Of course for me this is no hassle at all because well if I am asked to get something its only polite that I have a quick look around to see if there are any other bargains. Also you know, my moisturiser IS cheaper duty free. I would be a fool to buy it on the high street. So may have spent erm close to £100 topping up skincare products (thank god they don’t sell Shu Uemera at T5 anymore. It would have been substantially more if they did). Apart from that I just had a sandwich and hot chocolate in EAT! But that’s allowed, I mean it’s necessary, gone are the days when they actually feed you on a plane.
I don’t travel to Munich as often as I do Antwerp; although I have a team there we don’t have as many staff so it’s more a once a quarter trip. As I was only staying 3 days this meant I was out each night. Just to be sociable obvs. Now I have mentioned how I am trying to get fit again and watch my diet. I was determined to attempt to stick to this on my travels too. Damn hard work I tell you. Apart from the fact they make the most amazing Apple Strudel (which I did succeed in avoiding!) I don’t get a choice where we eat. I am at the mercy of my team or colleagues in this respect. Of course they wanted to treat me to real Bavarian food because last time I went to Munich it was -10 and snowed 10 inches in one day. Needless to say the hotel restaurant became considerably more appealing. This time however only rain, no snow and so day one it was Bavarian food. For those of you who haven’t been to Germany often this is your typical bratwurst, sauerkraut and potato type dish (with beer). I am not a big pork fan so I am there scouring the menu for chicken. Chicken salad to be exact. ... (You can take the girl out of London but you can’t take the London out of the girl). I managed to find a turkey, peanut sauce salad thing. I think male colleagues were disappointed I didn’t plump for a full on sausage fest but one of the girls who is in my team picked the same as me. Phew. Get this too. That night I did not drink. Whoop. The food wasn’t bad by the way, although I question the Bavarian authenticity of turkey in a peanut sauce with salad. I suspect the peanut nature also meant way more calories than my little brain imagined. Hey ho. It was the best I could find people. Honest.
The next day, I went running. In the pissing down rain. I got up at 6.30 and ran for 45 minutes in a loop round the block from the hotel. When I arrived back the receptionists clearly thought- nutty English girl and smiled at one and other coyly. Rain was dripping off my eyelashes and nose at this point.
The second meal was my choice in terms of the cuisine. Now I am not ashamed to admit I love Italian food. In another life I want to live there, stuff myself with Pizza, Pasta and Ice cream daily and get really brown (and likely fat by former comment). I also know I can pick healthy ish with Italian (and when I travel I like a bit of comfort food i.e. pasta). So we head into Munich centre. When we arrive one of the girls advises me that she couldn’t find a ‘standard good Italian’ and so we are having ‘Croatian/Italian’. I smile of course and say that’s fine. In my head I am think ‘what the...’. Team member in question is Croatian and so I asked her about this type of food. It’s a meat fest. I mean a serious serious meat fest. As soon as we arrive at the restaurant I order a large glass of red. Before the menu even arrives. I am chanting the mantra through my head – ‘must be good, must be good’. Surprisingly the menu was actually extensive and I did have Italian and pretty healthy at that. Ok so the wine is maybe less so but we all know red is better than white. That night was just me and a couple of my team and we had a lovely, funny, girly night. They did try to set me up with most of the single men in the office but you know that’s par for the course when you are single really. And in the end they decided a long distance relationship wouldn’t be right for me.
Due to wineage I did not manage to exercise the following day. My philosophy is it’s a bit like drinking and driving i.e. don’t. If you drink and then you train the next day you will know exactly what I mean.
The other downfall I have when I am travelling is that when I get tired I reach for sugar. Nine out of ten times this happens at the airport or station or wherever I start to flag. Now Munich airport is not Heathrow. Not by a long stretch. So when I find myself having that tired energy dip in the terminal there is limited choice (although again a lot of meat). In desperation I manage to hunt down the most expensive fruit, Yogurt and Granola pot in Germany. €5.50. No joke. A bloody Mars bar would have been cheaper. I sat in the lounge practically licking the pot clean I was that hungry. I am not sure it actually touched the sides.
The next day I trained with my PT. It was hellish to be honest. I am beginning to wonder if it takes 48 hours to recover from a few glasses of vino these days. I must remember that for this coming weekend.
Last week I did refrain from spending. Well I bought some shampoo on offer in Boots and a nail varnish but these are essentials. I did ok on the exercise too. I went for 3 runs and trained again, once with Rich (my PT) and the other time I went spinning. Spinning. Now that was one of my less clever choices of the week. People who go regularly will know that normally spinning classes last for 45 minutes. This is mainly because there is only so long your legs can take pedalling like crazy to music. I wander into a class in the gym thinking 45 mins of pain and job done (I had a hangover this day too but I will get to that in a minute...). So I get on the bike and start pedalling. Spin instructor is a v. Loud South African. So off we go and we get through 15 minutes of pedalling up a damn hill. By this point I am suffering a little but you know 1/3rd done. No. Oh no no no no. Nope. South African dude shouts – 45 minutes to go and no one dare put your resistance down! The next 45 minutes I think I counted every 30 seconds. Well I did literally. Up down, sprint, slow, hill, flat. Thank god the music was loud. Expletives galore. Lots of shouting things like ‘CELEBRATE SPRING’. Now I am sorry but the last thing I am thinking about it daffodils and lambs whilst I am being subjected to a modern day form of torture. The best part of this hour was when he played Gina Gee ‘Just a little bit’ and had a little sing along. I made the mistake of laughing at that point. Silly me. Cue more shouting and an extra crank of the resistance. I made it through the class though. Others did not and were seen attempting to sneak out while crazy dude down his Evian. He named and shamed. My butt hurt for 2 days after that hour. Spinning seats are bloody uncomfortable, especially after an entire hour of bouncing up and down on them.
The reason I had forced myself to spin in the first place was that I had been out the night before with my Boss and v good friend who is a colleague too. We were celebrating my boss’s promotion. Now my boss is shit hot at what she does and basically her job just doubled in size. Of course this meant we had to celebrate. In style. This had been planned for a few weeks. When it actually got to the night I was having a pretty crappy afternoon at work. I was about ready to launch laptop into the Thames. In fact I had even emailed one of my very good friends to say I really didn’t feel like it and wasn’t sure I was going to drink much. Yeah right. As it was a great move for her we decided to go to the Soho Hotel for drinks first. If you have never been before you should go. They have a huge black cat in the reception which they had to put in before they built the reception area because it is so heavy. Of course you shouldn’t go just to see that cat but it is a cool place. As we were celebrating we decided to drink champagne, a bottle of. I started slowly and took first few sips at a decent pace but then we realised we didn’t have long until our dinner reservation. As a result we practically necked it. After that all being good intentions went out of the window. We went to this AMAZING restaurant to eat called ‘ Yauatcha’ in Soho. This place is awesome. Dim Sum. I would highly highly recommend. Before leaving the office I had googled the calorie content of dim sum to decipher which might be healthier options. Screw that. When it came down to it we just order loads. Oh and it was good. Crispy duck, sole, beef, chicken, dumplings. Oh yes. To compliment the dim sum we drank Lychee Martini’s. At the time this seemed a good idea. Less so at 6am the following day. It was a great night. But it did mean I needed to work it all off with the demon South African the following day, hence spinning hell.
It’s all been a tad quiet on the man front lately. This is probably due to me either working like a crazy person or spending the majority of my free time working out. So for April there will be dates. Not the Estate Agent though. I decided it would be a tad unfair to go on a date with someone when I couldn’t really remember what he looked like. Wouldn’t be the greatest start would it.
I haven’t sold my house yet although I did get an offer. A very cheeky offer but an offer all the same. The truth is, in the summer months when it’s lighter, I love where I live. It’s so green and peaceful. It’s made me a little torn. I am therefore making the most of not having to make a decision about moving right now.
So that’s it. My latest news. Now wish me luck for this week please. More travelling. Manflu, waffle avoidance and wine on the agenda *sigh*.
Laters taters. Until next time xx
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