Global Diabetes Walk

Hayday: Well the big day has arrived - both Lanky and I are nervous about our 5km walk for Global Diabetes. The path is a loop of Male and we are grateful that they have built in a 15 minute stretching exercise. We are slightly concerned that we have not brought any Vaseline with us as we have been informed by the Hayden / Moon charity lightweights that did the Great North Run this year that this was an imperative step….not for medical reasons as I would not trust the source but more for the ‘camaraderie’ aspect….as the Pub Landlord would say “I have never been confused”…

Lanky: Well we’ve just returned from our Global Diabetes Walk and it seemed that we were deceived. 5 km ended up being more like one. In fact Rich and I actually walked it twice as we choose to gallivant to the start of the walk from our new abode, Sandy Beach (it’s not), which ended up being exactly where the walk concluded. However it was a highly enjoyable experience for a number of reasons. The first was the fifteen minute warm up prior to the half hour slow walk. All walkers were gathered in their various groups with the police to the army to the police being present (I’m sure the Colombos amongst you are picking up a theme). There was also the Ministry for Arts, Dhiragoo (the Maldives’ Vodafone) and, of course, the mighty Care Society smattered amongst the forces. We all lined up and did strenuous stretching exercises that everyone seemed to think hilarious, especially when two English, inflexible and lofty louts bowled up and tried to touch their toes. (Not their toes, our toes obviously. We’re not some sort of foot fetish deviants you know?) I wanted to tell them that if they thought that was funny they should try and catch Rich doing the cramp relief stretch at 13 metres underwater; ‘dog chasing it’s tail’ doesn’t do it justice.

Hayday: Can I just point out that I have years on this boy and have been in a few self-induced scraps during my years. This combined with believing the golden M propaganda that their meals provide a nutritious balanced diet has meant that flexibility is not once what it used to be. May I also point out that during this walk I did not once step on any of my charity compatriots feet like some other tall clumsy baboon…

Lanky: The second humorous moment was my discovery that little Ricky had, in his youth, been a committed scout (there were hundreds of these punters in addition to the platoon and entire constabulary present). Indeed in his illustrious career he had risen to Patrol Leader and had, at one point, received the greatest honour of all; he had carried the Kent Scouts’ flag at some county Scout Appreciation Celebrations (or something). He wore gleaming white gloves no less. If I’m honest that absolutely made my day and after that no amount of water fights or bizarre dancing that followed could top it.

Hayday: Can I just point out that I am proud of my cubs and scouts days Mr Nettel and your hat would not have been repaired if it had not been for my desire and determination to obtain as many badges on my green little outfit as possible. Furthermore my wizard friend, it is not me that has brought out university attire to try and impress the ladies. Schmuck.

Lanky: Following that startling discovery we proceeded to walk. Slowly and not very far for that matter. However we had the delightful company of the Care Society teachers who had the audacity to try and race us at slow walking. However our natural skill and agility saw us victorious; it was particularly impressive when we employed a couple of text book body checks on our rivals at pivotal moments.

Hayday: One slight sobering admission, particularly for the future of the health service, was our inability to concentrate for the 1km walk. The authorities stupidly decided to give each participant a delightful wee bottle of water. Yes you guessed it. Lanky could not resist walking up behind me and tipping a bottle of water over my head right in front of the Maldivian BBC and the delightful teachers….well I could take no more. If it had not been for the 20,000 police and 10,034 army personnel taking part in the walk, I would have implemented a far more serious retaliation strategy….one probably involving the Russian police. But yet I composed myself and acted with maturity by tipping my bottle of water in the vicinity of the deviant’s groin. Yes you are right that was a good shot to find such a small target. Naturally we also included some of the teachers in this team morale raising exercise.

After the walk we attended the after party whereby we were treated to some very bizarre dancing by a group of young ladies….not bizarre in the style of dancing but more the fact that it was quite racy for the shores of this beautiful country. Needless to say the audience was very quiet and subdued……..bar one ……..yep Lanky decided to ‘bust some shapes’ and occasionally proclaim a few ‘whoops’ to encourage the ladies efforts. You have to admire him really – he was naturally shattered after the strenuous demands of the walk but he forced himself to offer support.

At work the next day we were informed that we had appeared on Maldivian TV – not sure how that really happened as I thought we blended in quite well but needless to say we now alternate our route to work in order not to be mobbed by our fans.

The Maldivian Highway Code

Lanky: Each morning and afternoon Rich and I walk to and from work. ‘So what?’, I hear the more petulant amongst you cry like some twelve year old on four bottles of VK, too much San Andreas and too little father-figure. Well ‘what’ is that this involves negotiating the rather treacherous roads of Male. With roads being approximately the width of a recently dieting Michelle McManus the heady concoction of cars, a relentless stream of mopeds and your bigger (slicker) than your average Maldivian in the form of Rich and myself makes for perilous journeys for you hirsute heroes. However our intimacy with the drivers and driving practices has led us to become experts in the Maldivian highway code and below are the 6 key rules to negotiating the roads of Male…

Rule 1 – Do not look when pulling out.

This is a common mistake that many first time drivers make. There really isn’t any need, there’s enough punters kicking about to let you know; either by tooting their horns (see below) or by considerately careening into your side and ensuring their limp body helpfully performs an energetic belly flop into the road ahead of you…

Rule 2 – Absolutely do not stop. Ever.

There’s no need really. With the island 3 km wide we’ve all got places to be kids. It’s particularly important to NOT stop when there is no visible route through a jam ahead. These things have a habit of working themselves out.

Rule 3 – Absolutely do stop. Whenever and wherever.

If you need to pull over to block two really tall westerners just as they cross the street and quite possibly force them to try out their new found flexibility from all those games of twister they’ve been playing (naked), go ahead. You get extra points for that.

Rule 4 – Use your horn liberally.

No, you dirty wags you, this is not an encouragement for you to use your wand to wield wizardry whenever possible. Instead it refers to the button you press that makes quite a considerable amount of noise whenever someone stops quite unexpectedly in the middle of the road. In these instances be sure to press the horn for at least 5 minutes straight even if it is clear the vehicle won’t be moving for a good ten. Indeed this is an excellent way to forge community spirit because before you know it you’ll be joined by three or four fellow drivers tooting away to their heart’s content. In fact you’ll find it’s really enjoyable to have a competition who can toot their horn for the longest continuous period. Like most things in life the longer the better.

Hayday: Rule 5 – Under no circumstances (unless the President’s son has recently been involved in an accident) wear a safety helmet.

Falling off a bike at 25mph is known to definitely not cause any serious injuries or scarring of the face under the right eye…

Rule 6 – It is imperative that young children (from 6 months of age onwards) get a taste of the highway.

Whilst riding with a minor (come on wags Lanky has warned you about this) ensure that they can either a) reach the handle bars themselves or b) have developed sufficient expertise from their Fisherprice / Mothercare training to balance themselves independently. At no time should the minor distract you from your important mobile phone conversation or the lighting of a cigarette.

Authors’ Note: Both the authors of the Highway Code are keen to express that this is not to suggest that Maldivian drivers are any worse than those encountered in Blighty. One author, for instance, can testify that being chased around the A3 by some rudeboy in a souped-up white van wielding a baseball bat has yet to be trumped in Male despite his penchant doing commando roles across roads and then crying, ‘Hi ho silver Easy Company!’

Furthermore we’re yet to see an accident so maybe they’ve actually got it down to a tee.

To the faithful massive

Lanky: Well firstly an apology to all our faithful readers. I realise that we haven’t blogged for quite some time but there is a reason for this. Hayday and I went undercover, deep undercover, in an effort to assist the firm but probably not fair Maldivian police put together a robust highway code. Actually that’s a complete fabrication really (although there’ll be more on the highway code later). In fact Rich’s delightful missus, Sarah, came to stay. Since Recharge is the motivated one around here and I’m the brilliant but lazy latter-day wizard absolutely no blogging occurred.

In fact if I’m honest with you all, which I feel we’re all close enough now to be, not a huge amount has really happened. The Maldives for all its charms has not exactly been Rio de Janeiro (that’s for you Lewis) for your indomitable heroes. In fact it’s not even been a slightly budget party island in Thailand for that matter. Instead we’ve (well just me really) actually had a rather pleasant time reading Jane Austen, buying a hat, playing bowls and getting some new dentures fitted.

Hayday: It is interesting that whilst I am distracted by the delightful better half, the above baboon failed to rise to the challenge to take the lead and ensure that our avid followers were entertained. I wonder whether this failure to rise continues in other aspects of his life…

Lanky: Just to put all those ladies’ and gentlemen’s minds out there at rest I suffer no such problems. Anyway I’ve got this one friend, right, that does have the problem and he told me that you can get medication and it in fact makes you even better. That’s what my friend told me.

One menu to rule them all...

Lanky: On the Thursday we decided to take Nashwaan and Aruf for a business lunch. Aruf, ever the culinary connoisseur, took us to the romantically named Food Bank. All four of us sat down and were promptly brought our menus. Well that’s not entirely accurate. Ricky-boy and I were brought menus while our colleagues were conspicuously menu-less. I remarked on this as it wasn’t that unusual an occurrence since most Maldivians seem to be under the impression that being of a white-skinned inclination that we clean our noses with fifty quid notes while we expel pure gold out of our behinds. I certainly do don’t you?

However it was when we had a glance at the prices that we thought something was fishy. It seemed the prices were considerably greater than when Aruf had last been there, which had only been a few days previously. We decided to challenge the waiter. Well I say challenged because before we could say ‘listen here old chap, these prices do seem awfully…’ he’d whipped the menus out of our hands and brought back four slightly more well-worn menus whose prices were a third of those that we’d been not so cunningly or effectively duped into considering moments before. The excuse from the cheeky chappy was that the portions were bigger in the first menu but my calculations for the price of the steak in the first menu I would have expected an entire cow’s butt cheek to sink my teeth into. Then it might have been value for money.

Hayday: Now the above sounds all very amicable but Lanky has been a bit selective with his recount of this truly epic event. After being brought the non-western menu by the head waiter, Lanky took it upon himself to ask the right honourable fella “Is it coz we’s white?” A truly amazing moment when the whole ‘Food Bank’ went quiet and I found myself ready to join my brother in his fight for freedom, democracy and a fair transparent menu system for western people. If it were not for the fact that we were in the midst of a ‘business lunch’ I would have broken out with my rendition of Michael Jackson’s ‘Black or White’. But alas I composed myself and re-engaged with our colleagues in the deep and meaningful discussion of the interactions of young youths in British society today.

A fish called Wanda.

Hayday: We undertook our first dive after work on Thursday. We went to the dive shop at 3pm and Abdullah (as we would find out) looked at us and measured what size kit we would need. We then drove standing up on the back of a van to the boat and headed out to a wreck for our first dive! The PADI book had informed us that we would do our first few dives either in a pool or shallow water…to be fair it was shallow-ish water but still in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

Lanky: The boy Hayday doesn’t lie. I’m fairly sure that by taking us to the middle of the Indian Ocean (well a mile or so off an island, which is quite some distance in the Maldives) they were contravening some sort of diving bylaw but we weren’t exactly in a position to dispute this at length. I also suspect that neither Richard nor I wanted to look like wimps despite the fact that we were most certainly whimpering away under our John Wayne set jaws. The fact that the boat anchored right slap bang next to a ground freighter half of which seemed to be precariously poised (to me at least) right over where we were intending on diving just added to the sense of adventure. Sort of.

Hayday: On the way out Abdullah went through how to kit-up and what exercise we would have to complete under the water to pass the first practical test. Well this is all well and good but when the English is not that coherent and when you have an engine pounding away you kind-of hear every other word which when you understand that one of the drills involves you taking your regulator (air piece) out and then swimming to your buddy to take a breath from their spare from their tank you will comprehend the significance of being able to understand what is asked of you. In my usual blonde like way I just accepted my fait and looked at Lanky for re-assurance…what a place to look!!

Putting the wet suit on was ‘fun’ (I put it on the wrong way round initially and had zip on chest hair issues…) and jumping into the water with a tank etc was interesting.

My adrenalin was pumping and I was slightly petrified and wondered why was I doing this? I have never really got my head around physics. Once I had worked out how to stay under – well Abdullah found an oil drum and added it to my weight belt (being fat means apparently I am more buoyant) - we duly completed the tasks and then went for a swim around the wreck. Simply awesome. It was so relaxing and despite minor ear pressure issues and pressing the wrong button on my BCD which meant that I went up rather than down I think I got the hang of this new world. The marine life was ok but nowhere as near as good as the snorkelling that I did on the Island reef that I visited on my honeymoon.

On this note I should say that Lanky looked rather fetching in his attire and wet suits clearly suit the fella more than his ‘buddy’ (diving technical term which I will ask PADI to revise upon my return to the UK because a) it is very Yankafied and b) our partnership is based on the fact there are only 2 in the class – do you honestly think I would put my life in the hands of a man who shaves half my head at grade 1 when I asked for 4, who pours water into my coke and who knocks over glasses full of water into my crutch whilst out to lunch with office colleagues…).

Lanky: Before I go any further it’s important that I say how much of a gun Hayden looked in his gear. Honestly it was enough to make any self-respecting human being hot with admiration. He told me he’d give me a Chinese burn if I didn’t tell you that. Also I looked more like a scarecrow than a supple Bond who surreptitiously scuba-dives up to an enemy base and then surfs the rest. Stealthy.

While Recharge was experiencing some minor logistical issues I had, by some remarkable stroke of fortune that had more to do with blind luck (surprisingly) than any inherent ‘lanky duck to water’ aptitude, managed to master my breathing and was pleasantly resting on my knees at the bottom of the sea! I decided to hum to myself Under the Sea while I took in the exhilarating, life-changing and earth-shattering fact that I was breathing under water. Just as the manual had promised; in fact it’s worth quoting it at length since it was EXACTLY like this,

‘With that first underwater breath the door opens to a different world. Not a world apart, but different nonetheless. Go through that door. Your life will never be the same.

If you seek adventure, you’ll find plenty. Closer than you ever imagined.’

Well we went through that door. In fact we kicked that auburn backdoor of underwater adventure in. N.B. My mum had promised to buy me, aged six, The Little Mermaid as a reward for getting into a school until I had, while waiting for my interview, remarked loudly to said mother of mine that the mother of another applicant had garish attire which struck me as plain ‘mucky’ or ‘smutty’ or something and that she herself was ‘pretty flabby’. I honestly saw nothing wrong with my comments but I’m not sure if I ever did get the remarkable adventures of Ariel the mermaid on VHS…

Hayday: Mrs Nettel can we go halves on buying your son The Little Mermaid for Xmas as he continually harps on about this? – it is clear that this incident has had a deep long lasting impact on his psychological wellbeing. The whole way out to our dive site all I heard was “do you think she will be there”….who Lanky…“the little Mermaid”…god help me…the fourth week has progressed from Phil Collins to a bloody Disney character.

Hi my name’s Ron Livingston…Here it is.

Lanky: On Friday night, because we’re that hip, we decided to watch the ‘extras’ to the Band of Brothers DVD, which has become a huge favourite amongst the men of Hay-nky Company (sort of like Brangelina but without the abducted African and Asian kids or good looks). Indeed we’ve got so into it that we’ve tried to adopt their combat hand signals. For instance pointing to the eyes then adding a flourish of a fist pumped to the left with conviction and then much pointing in various directions all while ducking down behind a random wall means, well, I’m not sure really but it looks pretty pro I reckon…

Anyway one of the extras is a video diary by Ron Livingston, ‘an actor who plays the intelligence officer for Easy Company, an heroic group of soldiers who survived adversity we could only imagine and who are now being celebrated and brought thrillingly to life in HBO’s biggest and most exciting project yet… Band of Brothers.’ The reason I’m able to quote that word for word was that there were thirteen episodes of this video diary each ten minutes long and each with an opening credits of two minutes in which Ron kindly whittles on and through the above. It’s basically full of lots of actors being put through an army boot camp to prepare them for the realities of…making a series about fighting and stuff. But regardless there’s lots of male banter (‘shooting the shit’ as Ron eloquently puts it) with actors trying to look funny and witty in the few moments they’re being filmed by Ron (they fail pretty badly and Donnie Wahlberg is particularly not funny; sort of like this blog actually). Ron’s turns out to be a bit of a wimp although an endearing one and gets absolutely owned by one of the Sergeants training him because he’s such a cocky little Ron. However for Richy and I that video diary is the closest to friends we’re going to get to for the next five weeks sooo….

Anyway I hope that sates your dogging, sorry, blogging desires for now and I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Ron.

‘Hi I’m Ron Livingston and I’m blah blah blah blah…’