So it's been another lapse in time between instalments of the Rhiann Show. When one is sans boyfriend, drama is more tricky to create... sorry, drama is more avoidable.

Dr.C, the last featured cast member of the Rhiann Show, was a former rower (by rower, I mean he reached some mediocre level at university, but apparently when that university is Oxford, he tells me it makes you far superior to the other peasants. I disagree).  Anyhow, his short lived rowing career gives him a membership to Leander, the super prestigious Henley rowing club that houses all the actual serious competition. 

I love a bit of Henley. I've been three years running and yet to see a boat. It's an all day piss up in the sunshine with a dress code, meaning it's totally acceptable to be smashed at noon as long as it's in a floor length gown that cost a months rent. No peasants here.  

Despite my only communication with the doctor during the weeks before Henley was to send the odd whatsapp reminding him of his resemblance to all kinds of male lower parts, I decided the best way to make peace with him was to ask for some Leander tickets for Henley Regatta.

He said no.

Coincidentally, we met up a few days before Henley. How lucky is that? Making my coco pops that morning in his flat, I saw the envelope with the pink hippos on (the Leander logo). Now, I'm not big on petty theft, BUT, I decided that since he hadn't been to Henley for years (they're all too rich for him to really enjoy himself), it wouldn't hurt if I acquired his Sunday badges. It was a gift for my mum after all. My pint-sized Yorkshire mother was elated when I told her to start picking out a nice dress for Sunday Henley. I also realised my covert mini theft was highly risky, so phoned him the Friday before to be on the safe side. I asked why he was seeing his son Saturday and not Sunday? Because he's going to Henley on Sunday. Of course he is. I politely informed him he wasn't. Because I was. He called me a thief. I called it alimony. He wasn't impressed.

The crazy gene is hereditary  

The crazy gene is hereditary  

 Sunday arrives, and my mum and I pull into Leander. Car parking is £32. My mum is from Yorkshire. The only thing that costs more than twenty quid up there is your car. Or your mortgage. "I have the disabled badge!" she cries. "You can park on a double yellow" she said. "It will be fine" she said. It wasn't. The car got towed. It's probably what they call Karma. I cried at a policeman. The pound was closed until Monday. My house keys were in the car (who has anything more than a make up bag with them at Henley??) 

The police told the pound to stay open for us. I assume he believed our behaviour and the presence of a disabled badge was evidence we both actually were mentally incapabable. He's not entirely wrong I guess. 

As the hot rowers marched out of Leander and in front of us, I came out of character for a second to perv on them, before resuming  fake tears to ensure the safe return of my car.  

How do us mortals achieve Adonis-like upper torsos like rowers do? The answer is interscapular strength (between the shoulder blades) and lats.  

Tricep push ups and side planks work nicely. 

Tricep push ups are done exactly as a regular push up; but instead of the elbows going sideways, we draw them backwards towards the ribcage as we lower ourselves down. This creates a more stable upper back and shoulder platform.  

Side planks can be done either on your forearm or your hand. The former is easier. Place the other hand behind your head. To move it up a level, being the top elbow down to meet the bottom elbow to get some oblique action in there too. 

So, in my mothers words, "Another cracking weekend with my daughter." 

If you've committed a minor crime, had your car towed or fancy looking like a rower, I can help you only with the latter. Contact me here