Did you know that if you write to your MP, you can arrange to go on a tour of Big Ben?* Isn’t that just fabulous?
I really love/hate** your political views and voted for you/wouldn’t have voted for you if my life had depended on it** in the last election. I would really like to go on a tour of Big Ben*. Please would you arrange it for me?
Love and hugs / Resign now**
Try it! The tour is excellent. 11.15am, if you get the chance, as then you will be in the bell tower as the clock strikes noon.
So anyway, today my husband and I took the day off work and went on a tour of Big Ben*. Excellent, I thought. Climbing 334 steps will definitely count towards Febtathlon under rule two. Because climbing 334 steps is hard work. Except it really isn’t.
So then I pinned my hopes on rule three. Hopes that were dashed when we went to Pizza Express for lunch. Roasted tomatoes, nuts, bruschetta, pizza and icecream with toffee sauce*** left me no room for even a wafer thin slice of chocolate.
And it definitely left me too full to run, which put rule one out of the question.
So it was time, my friends, to add another rule.
If it hurts, it counts.
And the activity that I am claiming for today? Skipping along in central London while holding hands with my husband. Trust me, having your hand crushed by someone suffering from the extreme mortification of being caught in public holding hands with a grown woman skipping hurts. Hurts quite a lot. But it was worth it to keep my Febtathlon dreams alive.
*For any pedants, I know that Big Ben is the name of the bell and that technically, the tour is of the clock tower. I just don’t care.
** Delete as applicable
*** That’s pizza followed by icecream with toffee sauce. Not toffee sauce with pizza and icecream.