Not something you can widely share but for the last four nights I have been looking after the young son of Britain's Strongest Man ... and his rather lovely wife.
Throughout his child's stay the mother has been resident, but Dad has frequently visited. I didn't realise his celebrity status(?) initially, silhouetted in the dark he just appeared to be a great bear of a man who was batting seriously above his average. Good on him I thought, living the dream for big fellas everywhere, the law of averages surely means that a chunker must pull a honey once in a while!?!
It was only when I saw him in daylight that I became a little intimidated, sitting there with his top off, toned, tattooed & mega-muscly.
"Really fella there's no need! Although I realise with all that muscle you must be hot, it must be like wearing a puffa jacket inside!"
Early one morning Mum came to the desk saying she had to pop home briefly but Dad would be staying ... "Keep an eye on him, he's a bit useless!'
Normally you'd use this information to create a bit of banter, put the father at his ease, but in this case I decided to keep it to myself in case he ate me! He'd have to be jolly hungry it is true, but as part of his regime apparently he has to eat almost constantly, so it was a legitimate concern.
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