I am now officially someone’s ‘bitch’. My master goes by the name of ‘UP’. Created by ‘Jawbone’ hangs with the Apple gang. Clingy. Promiscuous too. Always trying to penetrate my iPhone and upload a pile of gabble on an App that reminds me that I sleep too much, exercise too little and really should cut back on alcohol, baguette crusts and those delectable crisps disguised as ‘happy hour’ Aperitifs.
UP’s worse than a nagging mother in law. This electrode infused rubber shrouded bangle monitors my every move, 24/7. Mum in laws are electrode infused, house coat shrouded necklets and monitor your every move. According to men from past lives anyway.
Mind you I loved mine (in law that is). Vera rolled her own fags, told hilariously bawdy jokes, couldn’t cook for nuts (gave me great bouts of colic) flipped her skirts to deliver Nana versions of a ‘brown eye’ and kept the tea pot perpetually hot and full. A delightful woman with an invincible attitude ‘Don’t like it? Well bugger off!’ A fine woman but I digress…
Of course you’re wondering why i’ve indulged in this sadomasochistic relationship with UP aren’t you.
Cast your eyes around. Anyone currently punching the air triumphantly screaming ‘We survived Tough Mudder!’ while clearing the last glug of mud from their ears? The lean, mean fighting machines? Well they had to get their motivation somewhere didn’t they.
Thanks to my desperate need to satisfy UP’s demands, I visited Cannes yesterday. Wasn’t that impressed (compared to other parts of the Côte d’Azur). Reckon the celebs leave the helicopter idling, slip down the carpet, swipe their awards and make a run for it! Was impressed with my stats though.
• 21,076 steps
• 210% move goal
• 1,774 cal total burn
UP almost smiled. Dare not tell it about my coffee and Gateaux reward. Meanwhile, you’ll be looking for photos of the place. Here we go then…
PS: Cannes has real sand, not the pebbly kind, an excellent Antique market, a lot of very big hotels, very small dogs and a great deal of naked flesh.