Artichoke Paloise

I was just telling Dom in an email about some Norewegians and Swedes who had taught me a drinking song when I was in France for a few months in 1991. I was thinking about a particular Norwegian girl. I had known her for quite a while before I discovered that (although she was in her early twenties) she had already had bad cancer. I remember two things particularly, she had the most frightening spiral scar all the way up her arm ( I think the surgeon had taken all the skin off and then put it back) and she was incredibly kind, cooking us meatballs and generally watching out for everyone. I wonder where she is. I also remember that when I left I said to people, " good bye, I will never see you again". I said that to a Canadian bloke. He was funny, very shy. He didn't smell too good at first as he had had all his clothes stolen in Pisa or somewhere and he had no money to replace them; we only discovered this later. In one of the first lessons, he had been asked a question and was struggling with the answer (you could only speak French in the classes). The teacher was a gorgeous demure woman called Pascale. He stammered away for a while and out of nowhere he came out with "je t'aime". He went bright red and buried his head in his hands; it was a great ice breaker. During the course he improved in confidence and in speaking ablility. In one of the last lessons, with the same beautiful teacher, he got himself stuck on the answer to a question. Like a school kid, before he had a chance to finish his sentence, I piped up with "je t'aime". He waited a perfect second and a half before he shrugged his shoulders, "peut-etre". There was another guy in my class, I would have been 27, this bloke was an 18 year old public school boy who had done a deal with his Dad that if he completed this course his father would pay or him to go skiing later. Andrew was his name, I really liked him despite his jeuvenile pranks. We had all been given comprehension to do from photocopied sheets with a series of pictures. I was minding my own business as Pascale started to come round the class to see how we were getting on. Soon she was helping Andrew who was sitting next to me. I shot a nonchalent glance over in his direction. There, as clear as day, was Andrew's sheet which they were both discussing. The main picture was one of the sun setting over Florence with a couple arm in arm in the foreground admiring the view. Above the couple were the words "Adrian and Pascale".

Shaolin everyone up

So, you might want to know how it went at the Peacock Theatre with the Shaolin Monks.

Well I would say it was colourful and loud, masses of energy with occasionally fabulous moments. There were kids who could tumble the length of stage with their arms by their sides, popping from their heads to their feet, as a friend of mine said, “like a slinky”.

What about the bloke who did a handstand on his two index fingers (instead of his hands); he did spend quite a while getting his chi into those digits first. Mig (who got the tickets) said afterwards that he could see his chi; good to know I’ve got someone I can talk to.

A Bit Stanstedy

I am going to see the Shaolin Monks doing their thing this evening. Quite looking forward to it although am hoping it is quite wacky. I was going to mention a chi related event from a week or so ago; at the risk of my friends finally giving up on me, here goes.

I was enduring that crazy torture that is travelling via Ryan Air from Stansted in the name of saving a few quid, it is test of your humility as well as strength. The way that they add extra charges, constantly change the weight limits for hand and hold luggage (and charge a fortune of you exceed them) and even get you to take off your jacket at security and so on is “not nice” (as my grandma would have said). But the tricky thing the other week was that, as they have reduced the hold baggage weight limit and increased the cabin limit, and don’t provide airside trolleys, there was a lot to carry. I was, (of the four of us travelling), the male of burden carrying age, add the fact that several of our bags didn’t have wheels and I found myself making my way to gate “50” with a rucksack and hammock on my back and a suitcase in each hand. We were also running a bit late. After a few minutes I felt like one of those blokes from world’s strongest man trying to walk quickly whilst carrying a log with a handle on it in each hand.

Two thirds of the way to the gate, it is hurting and I’m considering that the best thing to do would be to stop for a while, I’ve started to sweat and my arms are going to give up any second.

In my time I have experienced some things that I would not have guessed possible as a result of Tai Chi or meditation but not really over which I felt I had a great deal of control. My mind goes to some of those eccentrics whom I have witnessed on the Mind Body & Kick Ass Moves programme who can move their chi to wherever it is required in order that they can disable an opponent with a poke in the ribs or balance on their throat on the sharp end of a spear.

So as I wobble past the shop that sells cheese, whiskey and teddy bears I decide to give it a go. I tell myself to soften my muscles and breathe more smoothly. I can feel the chi accumulating in my belly and then for want of a better expression I start to pump it up my spine, over the top of my head and from the roof of my mouth down my front (round my microcosmic orbit). Quite quickly I can feel the build up of energy; I am breathing easily now. I start to divert the flow to include my arms and I focus on my sore muscles.

Well, what can I say, it worked. I duly arrived at the gate at the end of the universe, relaxed and without pain. I was amazed myself.

By the way, if you want to try it for yourself, I would recommend Barefoot Doctor’s Return of the Urban Warrior. I have read a number of books on microcosmic orbit stuff but this one is far less arcane than most. Then again you could fly from Heathrow.