APPARENTLY I've just had a week off. Only I managed to travel half the country, attempt to surf, go camping, attend a BBC presenting course in Bristol, party hard in Shropshire, fence in Sheffield and catch up with several friends — and I still got in some optional bonus training sessions.

Sat in the warmth of my car at Widemouth beach last Tuesday, watching the rain lash down outside, I was struggling to convince myself that the surfing I was about to try was supposed to be fun. My keen and expert surfer friends didn't seem bothered by this at all. Having already been training that morning in a heated swimming pool the thought of getting wet again in cold salty water was not appealing. But, once into my wetsuit I was ready to go and it's true that once you're in you don't notice the weather.

Being brought up down here and loving the sea I'm ashamed to say that I can't surf. Like every previous summer I planned to change this, so full of optimism out I went. After all it looks pretty easy doesn't it? An hour and a half later I was still spending a lot more time under my board than on it. Not only is it so much harder than it looks it's really quite tiring too, so I called it a day but promised I'll be back.

It's now back to the grind for a pre-World Champs training camp. I think I should just stick to the five sports.