On Ilkley Moor Baht’at, and wealth is missing from my Common

Another birthday over for another year – and what a difference a year makes too! Memories from last year’s tear-fest have been replaced by lovely gestures from close friends, and a trip “oop that there North” with my wonderful boy to give me a break from anything to do with sport, divorces, troubles and tribulations.

I’ve had a whole week away from any kind of activity and I feel great...have been out on my road bike twice today, and been to see my physio – the fantastic, and newly babied-up Dave Kershaw at Complete Physiotherapy – about my dodgy ker-nees. He’s very kindly supporting me in my little quest and has sorted out numerous niggles and pains...knees are his speciality though, and has worked with English Cricket amongst other sports too. Highly recommend him!

Anyway, I had never been to Yorkshire before, and it’s where the Boy spent much of his childhood, as his mother was born there and his grandparents were there for many years. Our time was spent sleeping, tramping about on the moors, climbing the Cow and Calf rocks and sitting in the Crocodile’s Mouth...with absolutely no itinerary and no pressure to do anything (well, apart from some work on Richard’s part, but that’s what happens when you’re the boss and I can never mind that, as we get to spend so much time together as a rule, which I adore)!

I am now the proud owner of some bits for my bike (living with a cycling nutter, it’s inevitable!), a new suitcase as mine spewed its guts out on the conveyor belt in Sydney Airport, and best of all, a new SpeedCoach Gold. I don’t know if anyone else finds some of the NK gear incredibly unreliable...I have had many minor stakeboat panics when nothing works and nothing starts, so hopefully we can erase the unknowns a bit now!

We went out for dinner on Friday night and had a great meal, topped off by the most mouth-wateringly, stomach-groaningly, melt-on-your-tongue, make-your-eyes-cross –in-gastro-rapture truffles. They were SO worth relaxing my strict rules for – and it was my birthday so I felt no guilt!!

Then Saturday was spent driving home in time for a wash-up meeting with Team Zambia, which I think was a success and we all know where we’re going and who is doing what. It’s very hard doing the independent thing and one person cannot do everything from kit to travel to PR to rigging to coaching to to to to to...., and somehow this has all got to be funded! Which is the next big step we need to take. So the hunt is on for sponsorship for the quest, and we’re putting together some promotional material and hoping that it is appealing to someone out there! Any suggestions would be gratefully received!

I was also given my birthday pressies from Julia and Jules...baby sis gave me a piggy bank (SOOO cute and pretty apt given the cash situation!) and Jules, well, this is the photo she had printed up on a canvas for me. It sums up the regatta and that particular race for me and I choked when I opened up the parcel. It wasn’t so much that I was exhausted at that moment, but more that I had to grab my rigger and shake my boat up and down in delight. I know some people might say “It’s only Women’s Henley”, but stuff it. I worked bloody hard just to get to the start of the regatta, and that race was all heart.

So, training starts again in exactly one week. In the meantime, I’m going out cycling, sorting out admin, getting my knees fixed (or at least in some working order – I looked like an old woman climbing up those rocks) and enjoying some more time with friends. As you can see, I am sadly not in Canada this week for the Commonwealths, as despite selection I am unable to scrape up enough crispy banknotes to fund it so it’s at home I stay. It’s all to do with rowing being an optional sport – if it was in India, then chocks away, Zambia’s Ministry of Sport would fund me, but hey ho, that’s life. I believe though that if I did one of the other “compulsory sports”, then I would be funded. Hmm, one of them is cycling........I wonder.........

However, mad ideas aside, it’s all made up for by the fact that Jules moves back to Henley - and HOME! – on Friday and I’m so excited. We’ll celebrate by going for a boogie to the fabulous “Lucky to Be Alive”, fronted by the delightful Matt Richardson, who are playing at KoKo (formerly known as The Bull) in Henley. Matt and I have discovered that we share an intolerance for bad spelling and general moronic behaviour. The two brides at two different weddings who I spotted “shmoking a faaaaag” in their pretty wedding gowns spring to mind (classy), not to mention people who say “Haitch” (annoying) and those who put the butter knife in the jam (gross). Perhaps I should muster up some more examples...send me a load of suggestions if you have any bugbears you need to get off your chests (and also let me know if you spot any typos just to show me up for being a numpty)!

To stop or not to stop?

Mr Contador has divided opinion. He has also apologised to his rival, Andy Schleck, for making a decisive and aggressive move at a moment when Schleck suffered mechanical failure and, arguably, had Alberto Contador on the ropes.

Now, what are the rules of fair play and gentlemanly sportsmanship here? Should Contador have stopped and waited for Schleck to sort out his chain? Or was it only fair that, given the fact that he had already stopped for Schleck in another stage earlier in the Tour, Contador exploited an opportunity to claw back the 31 seconds time difference between him and the Yellow Jersey? The two are huge rivals, but apparently have a good relationship.....

It’s a tough one really. I don’t know what I would have done in a similar position. The nice, “human” part of me would like to think that I would be kind, knowing that I would appreciate it if someone did the same to me if I was having problems. On the other hand, when you’re talking about potentially winning or losing an event as huge as the Tour de France, when sponsorship and team contracts ride (no pun intended) on your finishing position, is all fair in love and sport? In many ways, mechanical failure and your decisions to have certain parts (or not) on your bike are all part and parcel of racing and when things go wrong that’s just life. Schleck had apparently chosen to save himself 50g and not ride with a chain guard, which would have prevented the mishap from happening. Everyone is out for themselves and their results. Contador would have been lauded as the ultimate sportsman, as Jan Ulrich was when he waited for Lance Armstrong when he was knocked off by a wayward spectator, however that wouldn’t have been any consolation if he’d come second in the overall standings when the whole Tour is over and done with.

It brings to mind the rules of racing in rowing. We watched the start of the women’s single at Lucerne (whilst swimming in the Freibad) and Karsten stopped within a few strokes of the race commencing. Because the race had not yet reached 100m, all scullers were made to stop and the race was postponed until she had sorted out the problem (it looked like a rigger issue). Now, had this happened in the middle 1000m, I’m sure none of her competitors would have thought, “Oh look, poor Ekaterina has a problem, let’s stop and wait while she fiddles about”. Au contraire, you would grasp the opportunity and stick the knife in. We’ve all heard people at Henley saying that they would have no chance against the international or seeded crews, and that they can only hope their adversaries have an encounter with the booms, catch a crab or their footplates jump off. Aside from the written rules of the first hundred metres or so, it would take an awful lot to allow the opportunity of a win, however that may come to us, to pass us by.

Anyway, I’ve just spoken to my favourite German, who is in her home town having watched the amazing Chrissie Wellington smash her own world record yet again at the Roth Ironman Challenge. It bodes well for her World Championship bid in Hawaii in October later this year, and she is truly a huge inspiration to us all. And she’s a nice person! Go, Chrissie!!

Just chillax, man!!

I’m having a moment. Well, it’s a bit longer than a moment if I’m honest, but a moment it is, nonetheless. I’m having to keep in mind all the things I have learned about truly being in tune with my body and mind, and learning to be kind to myself.

I’ve always been one to push, push and push even harder, no matter what. That’s what got me into my little pickle in the first place – and now I’m in danger of doing it all again. When you’re feeling good, and you’re riding on a wave of adrenalin and being busy, it’s hard to remember the feelings of complete exhaustion and inability to think straight. However I came back to earth with a crash yesterday – literally – and I’m now having to be extra careful with myself in order that the year’s efforts aren’t completely wasted.

I allowed myself two or three days of nothingness last week after Lucerne, and even allowed myself normal ice cream last Sunday, before starting some cross training on Wednesday...running, weights, cycling and so on. Nothing strenuous (well, not THAT strenuous), just ticking over to keep metabolising and keep things from seizing up. I did a good couple of cycle rides on Saturday with the GS Henley group and found the pace easy, before the boy got a puncture and I rode back to the car and picked him up. Riding with tubs I believe doesn’t leave room for roadside puncture repairs! Anyhoo, I went out for a girls’ dinner on Saturday night for Catherine’s birthday at the Bull and Butcher in Turville (very nice, apart from the squirt of a waiter who said “I’m quite busy ladies” when someone had to change their order because they had run out and the person in question couldn’t decide) and slept through the meeting time for the GSH group on Sunday morning. I seem to be very tired at the moment!

So, Richard and I went out together after breakfast and the pace was really steady, but after only an hour and a bit, I started to feel absolutely awful. I stopped and had a little moment of feeling really pathetic, but I got back on and continued for a bit longer. However I was completely drained of all energy and felt unable to turn my legs. Then my vision started to go and I weaved and wobbled until (on the most inappropriately busy road of course), I eventually wobbled off and landed in a heap on the grass verge, sobbing with exhaustion and curling up just wanting to go to sleep exactly where I was. Eventually Richard managed to persuade me to haul my carcass up and we crawled to a coffee shop in one of the Chalfonts where we had a cup of tea and I had a banana. I was freezing cold and just couldn’t warm up but we got back on and carried on. After only fifteen minutes though, I started weaving again and had to stop, and Richard then practically pushed me to Beaconsfield where he left me in a coffee shop while he cycled home to get the car and pick me up.

I haven’t ever had an episode like that before. I do get very lightheaded if I haven’t eaten for a few hours, as we all do, and if I have trained really hard and long I will need to make sure I don’t leave it too long between meals/snacks. However this felt like I did when I was at my worst with the adrenal fatigue. I think I have to accept that I must take a bit more time out, as mentally I have been so wired for the past few weeks’ worth of racing. There has been a lot of emotion and mental devotion, not to mention the physical strain of racing at such a high level on very little base work. It’s hard to take that step back and realise that if I don’t do that now, I will just put myself right back to where I was in February and I could kiss my year goodbye, again. So, I’m going to get a blood test done to check a few things over – it feels like there’s something going on with insulin and blood sugar – and I will take a few days off this week and go for walks and regenerate. It’s my birthday on Friday and I’m going to just enjoy myself and not think about things too much! I’m so lucky that I have the opportunity to chill out a bit, as I’m not coaching again until September!

On another - and yet again quite unrelated - note, Eminem is really a very angry young man. Am I just getting old?

Winds of change, wind in sails, windy days...

I seem to be in the middle of a hotbed of constitutional matters.

On Tuesday, I went to the Zambia High Commission to find out the status of me obtaining a Zambian passport so that I can race at the World Championships. FISA (the international rowing federation) have said that the rules differ from the World Cup regattas, and I need to have the passport in time for Karapiro (World Championships). So, off I toddled to the little pocket of Zambia on Palace Gate. I met with an extremely nice man, and having explained my situation to him, he set me right on a few constitutional matters, namely, that Zambia does not recognise dual nationality. Apparently, at 21 I should have made a choice to EITHER remain “British”, or renounce this and choose to be “Zambian”. Being born at a politically turbulent time (1978) in Southern Africa, with South Africa persona non grata internationally and with Zimbabwe going through its own turmoil for independence, having a passport from Zambia was not going to be particularly beneficial. Mum and Pa would have made the rights decisions for all three of us. And in any event, I think it is pretty well agreed that if you’re going to have a passport, a British one is your best bet!

Now, I have two choices at this point in time. Either I relinquish my British passport and take up Zambian citizenship (not going to happen) or I wait. I wait until the Constitution of Zambia is changed. Funny how life works like that, isn’t it? All of last year I was sitting on the bike with my back injury, just dying to get out there and race for Zambia, but I wouldn’t have been able to and there wouldn’t have been any chance of it as they were not going through their constitutional review. So I would have given up the dream. But right at this moment the draft Constitution is with the 72 districts in Zambia, who have to submit their amendments and comments by the 1^st of August 2010. Assuming all goes well there, the bill will go through, in goes the passport application and Robert’s your mother’s brother. Hopefully. In the meantime I have asked FISA if they are prepared to accept a provisional entry for Karapiro, on the understanding that I would not be eligible for the Development Programme support that I would ordinarily have as a member of a small and emerging federation.

As far as I am concerned, life and training go on as planned. I must continue to send out the positive vibes to the universe and hope that I get the passport for Karapiro. If not, there is a Plan B, and that is also very exciting and positive. In Plan B I have a year before the Olympic Qualifiers via the All Africa Games next July, plenty of time in which to get the passport, get really strong, fast and focussed, and crucially to have a normal training cycle process. With the Worlds being so late this year, it doesn’t leave much in the way of time!

So next up in the racing stakes is hopefully the Wingfield Sculls on the Championship Course on the Tideway on 24^th August.

I don’t know why I do this to myself. Every time I sit on the start of any of the Tideway events, be that in eights, quads or my single, I say to myself, “I hate the Tideway. It’s smelly. There are dead cats, condoms and faeces in it, not to mention corpses and all manner of other detritus. It has given me urinary tract infections, eye problems and it can be a living hell to row on. And yet here I am again. Daft cow”. Anyway, it’ll be good to get out there and race again, as I am already itching to get back in the boat and I haven’t even got to the end of week one of rest yet!

On to the other constitutional matter. It was the Upper Thames Rowing Club AGM last night and it promised to be a humdinger. I came back from Lucerne on Sunday to find that all manner of shenanigans had been going on, with late nominations for Captain’s role being submitted, deadlines extended and apparently (although oddly I hadn’t received any), emails flying around asking for support in replacing the current captain. The meeting lasted three hours, and there weren’t the fisticuffs and shouting matches that I know have taken place in previous years, but it certainly made for entertaining listening. One of the biggest discussions was around what the role of the Captain should be and whether the role was exclusively rowing-related. Now, I happen to know that the current Captain, Justin Sutherland, does a hell of a lot more than just deal with rowing matters. He is at the club during the day, meeting with contractors and the council, talking to people about what the club should be about and so on and so forth. If, therefore, the Captain does more than solely rowing-related jobs, should then Associate Members, who are currently only allowed to vote on non-rowing matters (and therefore cannot vote for the Captain), be allowed to vote for ALL posts on the Committee, including that of Captain? In the end the results of the ballots emerged, and Justin is in for another year with a significant majority.

I firmly believe that you cannot please 100% of the people, 100% of the time. It’s impossible. When you’re trying to effect change, you’re bound to get someone’s back up somewhere. That’s why I wouldn’t run for Captain unless I had the time and the emotional energy to deal with it. Sometimes you’re someone’s best friend (when you give them what they want), and at others you are public enemy number one. That’s the way life is, but it’s no good just hiding your light under a bushel, you’ve got to show strength and determination, as well as have a very thick skin indeed!

On another, quite unrelated matter, Jules took this picture in Lucerne the other day.

I think this guy’s hat looks like one of the buoys in the last 250m of the course. Does that mean that each one of them has a Dutchman underneath it? We know how they like to swim, don’t we? Or is it just another example of a type of Dutch cap? Eurgh. And, what is it with the Swiss and tunnels? There are loads of them (tunnels, not Swiss)...I had visions of loads of Swissies burrowing around the countryside, tunnelling away into the mountains. Mad. Having said that, Jules did inform me that the longest tunnel in Europe is in fact between Austria and Germany, so I am perhaps doing the Swiss an injustice.

Ah, an insight into the mind of Antonia.

High emotion, furious racing, giraffes in garages and green and verdant hillsides....Lucerne over for this year!

How funny – that weird empty feeling has come back!! This time though it’s because it’s all over now, and I have a couple of weeks of enforced rest (well, active rest but out of the boat). I have come away from the final World Cup with fairly mixed emotions, but most of them are very positive and excited about the future. I also can’t help feeling a little disappointed....but that’s just the way life is. We’re never happy with what we’ve got.

This World Cup was the biggest one in history, with huge entries in many of the events, including the lightweight women and lightweight men’s singles. There were a couple of withdrawals but at least five late entries the night before the racing started, giving us a field of 27 lightweight women, which is almost unheard of at either World Cup or World Championship events. We had a few fun and games and shenanigans with blades, kit and officialdom, but we woke up for a 6am weigh in on Friday morning feeling quite strange in some ways.

Before we even got to weigh-in, things were interesting. I have always prided myself on never, ever having weight problems, and always travel with my trusty scales, which have accompanied me to Japan, Spain, Poland, France and many, many other places. This time, we tested them against the official scales and they were weighing me 200g heavy, which is the way around you want them to be! So, on that basis, the sweat run was done at 5.30am and I had made weight with 100g to spare. Or so I thought. I then went downstairs to the official scales and “AAAAAAAARRRGH”, 100g HEAVY! Somewhere my scales had changed by 400g and were now weighing me 200g too light. Bugger. Back into kit, and on the ergo for a good old sweat. But of course, this made me much later for weigh in than I wanted to be, which is usually bang on two hours before race time. This usually gives enough time to rehydrate, eat breakfast and have enough time to chill out before the pre-race chat and boating. I was so disappointed that it was Zambia’s first entry onto the world stage and I was the last to weigh in. That afternoon we tested the scales and they had changed again and were now weighing me 400g lighter than the official ones. Needless to say, they were unceremoniously dumped in a bin in Lucerne!!

However, Team Zambia had arrived. My gorgeous boy, Julia and I had flown in on Wednesday morning, on Thursday evening JPM and Jill had driven over from Normandy in JPM’s new toy, and Ze Tscherman had been delivered to Lucerne Hauptbahnhof, complete with the amazing kit she so brilliantly organised at very short notice through Crewroom. We were ready.

Everything that we have been doing over the past 15 weeks was culminating in this regatta. Having come through everything I have been through, with the last straw being the illness on training camp in Dallas at Christmas which knocked me into the descent into despairing nothingness, we were here. Not nearly as trained as my competitors, not as well supported, independent and a small federation which has never been on the world stage, but Zambia was about to be represented at world level. The atmosphere was pretty charged with emotion; the excitement that we’d finally got here, the hope that we would perform at world level, and this might sound pretty cheesy but with the heart and soul of doing this for personal honour and family pride. There were tears of hope and joy before boating, and it took a lot to bring the focus to the job in hand.

My heat was pretty stacked and I lined up aiming to make the top three scullers straight through to the quarter finals. Green light, and off. I have a traditionally pretty strong start and this race was no exception. I was leading the Japanese sculler as well as the Swiss girl and the Dane. The Irish girl had gone out like a train and I tried to focus on keeping long and loose. Come the 750m mark though, it felt like I was rowing through treacle. I felt heavy and drained, and I kept having to remind myself of the basics, just to keep my nose in the game. Towards the end of the race I knew that I wouldn’t make it into the top three, but I thought that I should make it through on time. I think we all agreed that I had to cut myself a bit of slack, knowing that this was such a charged first race for so many reasons. Not only was it so huge to have got here, bearing in mind two weeks before Wallingford regatta at the beginning of May I couldn’t do 2k AT ALL, but also the enormity of what I’m trying to do was pretty weighty stuff to have on my shoulders. But, all that was out of the way now. Now it was all about the racing.

I had a few hours to re-energise and go to the hotel for a sleep before the quarter finals, where I knew that I would have my work cut out for me. Top three would take me into the semi finals and the top twelve. It was clear from the heats that I was already on the harder side of the draw, as my times were up there in comparison with the other heats, and so it was going to have to be a tooth and nail fight to the end. There were two girls who I was never going to beat in this race on the amount of training I have been able to do this year, so it was a race for third place. I kept fighting all the way, within half a length until the very end, where the lack of diesel and a decent year’s training and racing told on me. Pipped for third by just a length, but I could not have done any more on that day. Looking at the times, I was on the cusp of making the top twelve. However, being on the cusp means that with a hard draw, you get edged out, and end up where I did, in the C final. It is disappointing to know that someone you are right up there with qualified for the semis 9 seconds ahead of fourth place in the next quarter final, however that is racing, that is life and this is the line in the sand from which we can move forward. I now had to hold my head high again and race for pride in the morning.

Weigh in on Saturday was very easy...and I sat down with Julia for our pre-race chat. We knew the American girl would be a handful, as she is probably A final material and had an injury in the quarters which is why she was here in the C final. The rest of the field was there for the taking, but I knew the Japanese girl would have a fast finish, as could the Swiss and the Aussie. However, we had come here to find out where we are, and both Julia and JPM left me with the words, “Go out there, and whatever else you do, enjoy it”. Phil Rowley from Tideway Scullers said to me when he saw my kit, "The eagle has landed". I replied, "No, this eagle is just taking off"!

Green light. Go. Good start and all solid. The Japanese girl had gone out harder than in the heat, and was up on me in the first 500 or so. The Dane with the big guns (but no ammo) was already out the back, as she always had been, even in Holland, and the Aussie girl was also trailing. Coming through the 1000m I was still solid, getting out long and just enjoying the thrill of racing and being so focussed on each muscle and each part of my body doing what it is trained to do. At the 1250, my flex and widen call, I went out there to get my hands as wide as I possibly could and leant on those blades like there was nothing past each stroke. I could hear the Japanese girl’s blades slapping the water and the sound of her finishes came closer and closer as I rowed through her, gaining inches and inches with every catch. I wasn’t going to catch the American, and it was going to be between me and the Swiss girl for second place. Try as I might I just couldn’t make my boat surge past hers and we just beep-beeped over the line, with her nose in front of mine. It took some perspective to accept that she is the Swiss national champion and had medalled in previous World Cup events this year. That gives you and idea of how strong this field was!

I came off the water swelling with pride. I had raced the best I could. There is so much positivity to come out of this weekend’s racing. I keep thinking people are going to belittle what I have achieved in such a short period of time, and there are those who I am sure will. On paper, I came 15^th overall. In reality, I’m a bit closer and with better luck could have been higher. The time differentials between the top heavyweight single scullers and the people further down are much greater than the difference between me and the top lightweight girls. However, I now need to make it that I am so firmly within the cusp that a hard draw doesn’t make a difference to whether I make the semi finals or not. That is the next step, and the standard at this World Cup was much higher than at the World Championships in 2006, which is when I last raced at this level. Things move on, and so must I. I am already better technically now than I was then, and there is so much more to come, both in terms of my basic fitness, which is lagging behind the top girls very significantly and there is more to change and improve with my technique. The boat is not set up particularly well either. All of these things will give me quarter, half, full seconds per 500m which will all add up to good steps on. So, not a bad job on such a short run-up.

This weekend, I stopped talking about racing for Zambia. I put my money where my mouth is, my neck on the line and I took some risks. And I thank my lucky stars that it is with the love and support of my friends and family that I am able to lift my head, and look towards the next goal, the World Championships in New Zealand in November. There are a few solid supporters, at Upper Thames and from elsewhere in the world who sent me messages of good luck and hope, and it means a huge amount to me.

I have such a lot to be thankful for. Every day I count my blessings that I have this opportunity. Granted, we make our own luck and we put out to the universe the things we want out of life, but I have such a lot of support from the people around me, and the believers far outweigh the doubters and those who have put me down. Life chucks a curve ball, and it’s up to us to either catch it and throw it back, or let it smack us in the face. Team Zambia was a team of six this weekend. They were the wind beneath my eagle’s wings.

Now all I’ve got to do is get that bloody passport sorted out. Wish me luck. This could be the hardest part of all!

That weird empty feeling...and frights, frocks and friendship!

I wonder if anyone else experiences this...that odd feeling of void emptiness, when nothing more can be done. No more training, the season is all but over for everyone else, the clubhouse is deserted and I am now just waiting. Oh yes, and packing. And doing laundry that should have been done by now but of course has been left until the last minute.

What? Don’t tell me I’m the only one who does this!

Anyway, we are leaving early tomorrow morning for another SleazyJet experience, Lucerne-bound. This time Team Zambia has doubled in size – with Julia, Richard and I travelling in the morning and Jules joining us on Thursday night. We are happy, excited...all has been organised and the GB Team Manager has been kind enough to let me put my boat on their trailer over there. I had written to him out of courtesy to let him know what was happening, and to explain my reasons to him. I was very keen that he didn’t feel that I was changing to Zambia out of disgruntlement or a desire to snub anyone. Not that I think he actually particularly cares, but diplomacy has always been one of my strong points.

So, the first heat is a couple of days away. I had decided not to race at Henley Royal Regatta this year, and looking at the conditions, being a lightweight would definitely have counted against me, as I believe would have the stations. Sometimes there are funny squalls that appear when there is a cross wind, which are a result of a gust whipping over the enclosure tents along the course and then dumping onto the Berkshire station. Add to that the stream (which this year wasn’t actually a factor I don’t think) and then which side you are on can also make a difference. Which brings me to Dorney Lake....actually, let’s not. Perhaps another time.

I only went to watch the Regatta on Friday, going to the Stewards Enclosure with Jules, Dani, Julia and my handsome chap in his new blazer. It was a really odd atmosphere that day, not like previous years, and I can’t quite put my finger on why it felt strange there. Being with my special people was fabulous though, and we all put our best feet forward, which sadly can’t be said for some of the mutton that was on parade...catty, yes. True? Totally.

I was so tired from training (I have been going solid for 6 weeks since my last “adaption week” and am ready for the long-awaited Lucerne taper) that we didn’t go any other day and I’m glad we didn’t. Driving through Henley on Sunday morning for a good long paddle before racing started, the destruction and mayhem of Henley Saturday were evident. It was horrible, and makes the Regatta sometimes very unpleasant to be at. The landing stage was like a war zone, with broken glass, debris and vomit littering the Upper Thames frontage. Walking down Remenham Lane with my blades on Saturday afternoon, we got into an altercation with these (for want of a better word) Chavs who kept on grabbing them and waggling them about. One of them ended up with a blade-end in his gut after about the fourth time...I am more and more tempted to avoid it altogether next year!

However I wonder if the disappointment of the racing will be for some a huge incentive for raising their game this weekend in Lucerne. I sincerely hope so, and wish everyone who is racing huge luck.

I am now going to continue wandering around in an aimless way trying to pack and be focussed! My mad kitten, Fidel (as in Catro...yes, he does have a machine gun purr, and he will soon be Fidel Castrato, poor thing!) is racing around the house like a mad thing, sliding across the kitchen floor and, completely unable to stop himself, charging headfirst into the dishwasher, which totally captivates him every time we open the door. Evidence below...

In their honour.

It is time. The cat is out of the bag.

The entry list for the World Cup in Lucerne is now out and it is time to tell you probably the worst kept secret in history. Funny how the words “Please keep this under your hat, but.....” seem to bring people out in a cold sweat, and they are completely unable to keep whatever juicy morsel they have been told under wraps.

Anyway, I am entered, officially able to race for the country where I grew up and where my roots are still firmly in the ground. The Zambian rowing team has its first international entry since their acceptance as a new federation under FISA!

It is a difficult thing to explain to people, why I have chosen not to represent GB any more and go it alone with no funding, no free physio, travel, kit...the whole dog and pony show. However, I will spend some time formulating my thoughts and share them with you. In the meantime, it is enough just to say that I am honouring my father, my beautiful cousin Silky, my heritage and roots...and for anyone who knows Africa, the pull of the African sun, the fish eagle’s cry, the smell of rain coming, the widest, darkest sky at night and the brightest stars you have ever seen.

For my own bright stars, who I hope look down and bless my dream, Linde van Deventer and Silky van Deventer.