Saturday, 14 September 2013

013 - Sam Brownsword

Numbers really don't hold any meaning to me. I have a wierd affiliation to the number 7 and multiples of 7, like 14, 28, not so much 21, and I have my own roulette numbers obviously, 8, 10, 11, 3, 15, 0, 28, 29, 32 and how could i possibly forget 23 (Scott Pike wouldn't be impressed forgetting 23), but the number 13 has never been an unlucky number for me. It wouldn't bother me moving into a number 13 house, owning 13 pairs of shoes anything like that, its just not unlucky for me. Until now.

Venue: Longton Rugby Club
Date: 09/09/13
Time: 19:45

I am 'popping' accross to Emma's metafit class she attends, which is run by Sam, a girl I met when she taught our wedding party a dance that, due to an inept DJ, never took place.

It was apparent after a few words with Sam that 'popping' really meant 'taking part'.

I can only describe the next 30 minutes as life threatening. That's why I look so bad on the picture and fitness instructor Sam looks like she's just got ready

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