A Day In The Life

I’ve never done one of these “day in the life” posts before.
Mainly because I’m forgetful and forget to remember every little thing I’m up to, but also because I’m sure that there are a lot of times where my life is interesting for me, but not my readers. (Unless that’s wrong in which case please do tell me). I assumed a day like today would be just that, but I decided to go for it anyway because there’s no time like the present.

The day is Saturday the 24th of March and it starts at 7:27 – which is not my choice.
S has woken me and whilst I’d like to say that it was unintentionally, I’m pretty sure if I did it would be a lie – because S walked into the room noisily and turned the light on… Which definitely reads “done on purpose” to me. I’ll let him off though, because today is the day he takes part in a charity boxing match and apparently he is “too excited to sleep”. 

Eventually he leaves and I nestle down to catch some more Z’s, but a whopping ten minutes later and he is back; rummaging through his bedroom wardrobe with no regard for noise or my sleep requirements. It’s getting harder to ignore him now and I’m getting cranky. Turns out that I don’t function well on disturbed sleep. I’d ask who knew but we all do – you should never wake a sleeping Amy. I try to obtain a cuddle to take the ‘early morning’ sting off but apparently S is unable to do so. Something about being too excited and needing to iron a shirt. Men are so weird. But now I am awake, sleep deprived and apparently unloved. Humprh.

Eventually S leaves the room and I smugly cocoon myself into a duvet burrito to get those Z’s I so desperately want. Turns out I had acted too fast because no sooner than I had rolled myself into a comfortable cocoon, S was back, singing “Good morning, GOOD MORNING” as he pranced about being all annoyingly funny and whatnot. I was in luck though, because he came bearing that cuddle he previously denied me and within a few minutes I was out like a light.

This would have been a good thing, because I love my Z’s. But in this case I loved them just a little too much because I overslept my alarm. Something I didn’t find out until I awoke 40 minutes after I was supposed to. Ooops. After jumping in the shower I was ready to go. Kind of. I was dressed, had mascara on and had dripping wet hair but I had to leave like that or else I would have been late. Priorities yano.

Thanks to my car’s heating, by the time I arrived in Emsworth it was less wet, and by the time I had circled the car park three times and found a parking spot; my hair had officially been demoted to “damp”. Luckily my breakfast date didn’t mind, so we settled in for a chinwag over a coffee and fry up 

All too soon it was time to depart.

Whilst I was still riding my coffee high I rushed home, cleaned the house and sorted out the washing I’d ignored for three days. Turns out chores are the worst no matter how old you get. Still, I’ll taking cleaning and hoovering over putting a duvet cover on any day of the week.

By the time I had finished S had left for the charity event and with the house as clean as I could be bothered to make it, I decided it was time to work on my face. The boxing event was only held at our local gym, but it was still a black-tie event and I wanted to get spruced up. Deciding what to wear, on the other hand, was something I did not want to do. I hate doing it. I swear, the moment I earn extortionately large sums of money I’m hiring a fashion blogger to come and act as my personal stylist.

You see, most people wear dresses to black tie events, but I’m not the biggest fan. I find them limiting and I’m yet to find a dress-shape that doesn’t require readjusting throughout the night. So I decide to ignore wardrobe choices and watch more Will Smith vlogs instead

Midway through Rhi turned up. She had a couple of freelance pieces to crack on with before deadline so I curled my hair to keep myself quiet. Midway through doing so the cutest gatecrasher turned up: my nephew. He was ill and cuddly and just the cutest most sweetest thing in all the land. Yes, I am 1001% biased, but he really is pretty adorable. Once he left I finished curling my hair and fell into a hole of “happy dog” pictures on social media. I re-watched a video about a dog who shares half of his biscuit with another dog and my heart was full. What a good pupper.

Whilst Rhi cracked on with her work, I curled her hair whilst umming and ahhing about what to wear. I had originally planned for a jumpsuit but couldn’t be dealing with relying on people to unzip me. So in the end I stole a pair of S’ braces (for trousers not teeth!) and paired it with a sheer white shirt. Once Rhi was finished we snapped a selfie

And left for the event.

It was around 5:30pm by the time we arrived and as we walked through the hall I realised S and I hadn’t eaten lunch and we’d miss dinner, which is disastrous because neither I, nor Rhi, cope well without food. Fortunately S’ mum bought snacks. I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for a well packed handbag. I was literally running on breakfast, coffee and nerves and the whole “S is about to fight” thing, was getting pretty real.

You see S is a lover, not a fighter – and in all the time I’ve known him he has been in exactly 0 fights. He had also been incredibly ill throughout much of the training for the event, so I was a touch nervous. By the time 6:30 rolled around S had joined us in the hall where the event was taking place and he was as calm as a cucumber. He literally sat next to us at the table (snacks in hand) without so much as an ounce of nerves. I, on the other hand, had picked off the nails which I just spend a record-breaking month growing. Wah.

S disappeared back upstairs and we sat there watching the others fight. Men and women of all shapes and sizes, doing their best to out manoeuvre their opponent. I couldn’t watch. Fighting is so violent and garish that I constantly found myself looking in the opposite direction to the ring.

Until I had about 5 gins.

Then a switch flipped and all of a sudden I was these strangers biggest cheerleaders and wayyy too into the whole thing.

By 8:30pm I could see S at the top overlooking the hall. He had changed into his tank top which meant that it would soon be his turn.

Meanwhile, in the hall, I was having my own dilemma. I was stuck between needing to pee and not knowing if I could risk it because the queues were massive and I didn’t want to miss S’ fight. After all, the only reason I was there was to support ma man! 

In the end I decide to chance it, bypassing the queues and pegging it the long way (security wouldn’t let me take a shortcut) around to use the gym’s toilets. I made it back with a fight to spare and, thanks to a work colleague being sat on a table next to us, was able to grab a front row seat to S’ fight.

As soon as I sat down the tannoy rumbled overhead.
“And next, sponsored by Toothbrush Travels (thanks Nikki!) is Sam ‘Hold My Beer’ Buuuuuuurt!

His entrance song came on (Numb/Encore if you were wondering) and S walks out.
He’s confident. His eyes are focussed and he’s shadow-boxing his way towards the ring. It’s strange seeing him like this, because this sassy shadow-boxing creature in front of me is so different to the everyday S. His eyes are glazed and he’s making eye contact with nobody. He steps into the ring before his opponent joins him 
and the ref speaks to them about what to expect.

3 rounds.
2 minutes a round.

You’d think 6 minutes wouldn’t be too bad but after watching the previous fights you could see that by round two, people’s arms turn to lead. I wasn’t sure what to expect but no sooner had it started, it was over.

S had won; 50 seconds into the first round.

The crowd cheered and he lapped it up, throwing his arms up in victory as he stood upon the ropes. I couldn’t be prouder. Having never fought before and knowing he only attended a few weeks of training due to illness, S had managed to beat his opponent. Jack of all trades that one.

But I also feel conflicted, because essentially we were celebrating him beating up another human.

Boxing is such a weird sport to me because the aim is to quite literally beat another human. I love that there is a safe place for this to happen, but it still doesn’t sit right with me (yano til those gins kick in). It’s a balance that I can’t balance very well and I either seem to be all or nothing. I’m either completely grossed out by it, or I’m cheering until I lose my voice.

My conscience is fickle when it comes to fighting, and I don’t know how I feel about the subject.

Regardless, after S had showered and suited up we walked into town for celebratory drinks before heading back to ours with a few friends. By 1am I was home, in my PJs, with marmite on toast which I was loving just a little too much.

Who gets that happy over a slice of toasted bread.

By the time it turned 3am, or possibly 4am – I’m not sure because the clocks had moved forward an hour, I was ready for bed so I left my friends. And this is where I leave you – because the moment my head hit the pillow I was a goner so that’s pretty much where my day ended!

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Where do you stand on professional fighting?
Discuss and help my figure out my thoughts?