Any excuse to wear tight clothing.

Last month was pretty bonkers and now I’m finally finding to time to sit down and type some twaddle about my galavanting across the Globe: One man, no mission, just some lego hair and an ability to pull a funny face for money…

It began with a trip to chilly Gdansk, in Poland to film a quick commercial for the very Polish Zyweic beer. Me and the very British cast endured -5 temperatures on a night shoot pretending to be having a ‘summer’ party. Remarkably enough we don’t look that cold considering. Might have been the hip flask we smuggled on set* Have a look:

*disclaimer – that’s a joke. Don’t want to get told off by Polish Acting Union, or my mum.

Not much else to report on Gdansk. Other than it was bombed so much in the WWII that most of the old town was destroyed, so most of the buildings are new with ye oldesky prefabs on the front. Felt a little like a movie set or a model town.


Once Gdansk was G’done, I was off to Spain to train for this season’s triathlons. Now I haven’t mentioned this before, but was very aware of sounding like a bit of a tool banging on about lycra all the time. In-between jobs I like to do triathlons. For the uneducated that is basically a swim, bike and run race, in that order. I got into to it about three years ago when my flat mate set up a club in Hackney, East London and I always fancied having a go. My cycling and running was always pretty good, but I couldn’t swim very well so I thought this might fix it. And to my surprise it did. Cut to three years down the line and I have a bit of addiction to this multi-sport discipline. I’m trying to kid myself it’s about the fitness, but the truth is LFTC is just a good craic and a great antidote to the fickle world of acting and showbiz types. It’s a good leveller.

LFTC C-Palace2013

We go away every year to do a training-camp and this year we hedged our bets on Andalucia, Spain at a tri-specific sports hostel. Our days started at 7am with a 2k swim in the on-site lake, consisting of various drills that are specific to triathlon: sighting, drafting, race starts and general getting used to swimming in open water. After that we saddle up, apply weird cream to our nether regions and don more tight-fitting clothing and head out for a 90-120K bike ride.


Andalucia has some serious hills and I don’t think I’ve encountered the pain of a 14k hill climb before, but I now have some serious respect for those chaps doing their lycra-ery thing in the Giro D’Italia at the moment. Also, I never realised how much you need to EAT when you do a holiday like this. I never really stopped. Two breakfasts (one before swimming, one after) then eating cereal bars whilst riding, plus coffee and cake stop-offs. Light lunches and then enormous carb-fuelled dinners. And what goes in must come out. I think our 29-strong combined eating must have put a strain on the neglected Spanish sewer system. Let’s hope it didn’t end up in the lake…