tea.

This is one of those things that I feel incredibly strongly about, so many apologies if I drag on. It's a big deal to me.

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I come from a family of sports-people - I climbed my first mountain at 3 months old. In a backpack. On my Mum's back. But still, the foundation was laid at a young age. I grew up with various sports clubs to my name; I did the whole judo and tae kwon do side of things (I had a younger brother to keep in check.) I sailed obsessively from the age of 8, I ran track, I ran cross-country, I played lacrosse, I skied, I played badminton until I was good enough to captain an international junior squad.

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And now I coach. And I am desperate to get girls into sport. Any sport, seriously. When I sailed, I was one girl in a fleet of 20 boats. When I ran, the pools were so insanely small that they kept putting us in with the guys just so that we had some kind of competition. In badminton, I have 2 girls that I consider strong enough players to put out against other teams. That's it. I put out 14 county players for a match, and only 2 are female. I run a club for 60 juniors, and I have 9 girls on the books. 9.

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It's madness.

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Women's sport accounts for a truly awe-inspiring 0.4% of the commercial investment that goes into sports, and a ground-breaking 7% of all sports coverage in the media. Anyone with a brain can see how absolutely absurd that is. So the stereotype isn't just in people's heads, it's a reality that makes getting girls into sport incredibly difficult. The Women’s Sports Foundation has shown that boys and girls between the ages of 6 and 9 are just as interested in sport. However, by the age of 14, girls drop out of sport at a rate that is six times greater than boys. And there's a host of reason's for this; Girls aren't seeing female athletes in the media - name 5 female athletes that you admire, try it - they aren't being gifted footballs and gloves etc. for their birthdays, which boys start receiving by the age of 2

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Sport is just as important to women as it is to men. As little as four hours of exercise a week may reduce a teenage girl’s risk of breast cancer by up to 60%; breast cancer is a disease that afflicts one out of every eight American women. Girls and women who play sports have a more positive body image and experience higher states of psychological well-being than girls and women who do not play sports. 80% of the female executives at Fortune 500 companies identified themselves as former “tomboys” and as having played sports - the sporting environment is usually where guys learn teamwork, the pursuit of excellence and achievement orientated behaviours. Try telling me that those traits aren't vital in the workplace.

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So the mental benefits are huge. The physical benefits speak for themselves - better sleep, better appetites, better overall health.

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And it's fun. I mean, that's what amazes me the most. It's so much fun, so why not?

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• Your heart has been shattered but the cracks are filled with gold. You're earthen and radiant.
• Growing up is tough when you feel like an adult in a kid's body - I'm so proud of you.
• I like you, in the same way that I like freesias and sleeping with the window open. You're a quiet calm, a sweet something.
• You leave me wondering. I'd really like to try being you for a day.
• Stop crying for yourself. The world hasn't been cruel to you. You're surrounded by people who love you.
• Keep singing about hope and joy. Earth could do with more of both.
• Keep keeping them singing. You're one of a kind.
• I could never fill the footsteps that she left on your heart. But that was okay, and we made new pathways.
• You probably don't realise that you've helped to keep my sanity intact. Bless you.
• Kisses on collarbones and fingertips on freckles all remind me of you.
• Stop trying so hard to forget her. Sometimes the purest thing we can do is hurt. And then look at your clenched hands, remember that you loved before and you'll love again, and move the hell on.

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So I've been collecting some writing prompts that I keep meaning to send out, and my question is: Who would like to receive them? Some of them are on the funny side, some are heavier - there's a total mixture. My thought would be to send them out once a day for the next two weeks or so.

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There would be no rules, and they can be used however. Some can be used as AUs, if you're into that kind of writing. Some can be answered as poetry or as drawings; There really are no requirements. It doesn't matter how good a writer you feel you are, you don't have to answer all of them - and if you want to opt out at any time, just give me a yell :)

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If you're interested in receiving the prompts, like this!

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(Because otherwise I'll forget who wants 'em and who doesn't.)
(I'll forget in about two seconds, let's be honest.)

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Don't say it if you don't mean it.

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Say it by accident. Say it when something tragic has happened and you can't not say it any more. Say it after she walks down Ship Street with her arms swinging by her sides, and almost gets hit by the unseen car racing around that blind bend. When you're done cursing the council for not fucking doing anything about the pavements, realise that your hands are shaking. Tell her with your heart in your throat.

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Say it when you've measured the time between her breaths, and know that she's really asleep. With the streetlamp outside the window as your witness, whisper it into her hair. When she stirs in your arms, pace your breathing so that it's slow and even. Maybe you were sleep-talking. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe she was dreaming.

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Write it down. Write her a letter in your chicken-scratch handwriting. Go in circles, don't censor yourself. Contradict yourself, tell the truth as it seems to you in that moment, as you've known it to be for weeks. Walk around with it in your jacket all day, wondering where to leave it. In her car? Tucked under her favourite mug? Give up, throw it away in a fit of frustration. But leave it face upwards in the trash, with her name scrawled over the front of it in penmanship as familiar to her as her own. She'll wonder if you meant it.

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You've told her you aren't drunk three times in the past five minutes, which might be why she doesn't believe you. She's right. Phone her up, wait until she answers her phone with a roll of her eyes, standing not two feet away. Tell her in that slightly slurred voice that comes from being not-not-drunk. When you wake up tomorrow, cringe a little at the memory. Wait for her to mention it. Feel sick, but blame it on the whiskey you downed. The Dutch Courage has long since worn off.

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Say it deliberately, defiantly. Don't tack on an "I think" or an "I might." You know. You're telling her something that you have known for so long. Tell her as you walk next to her on your way home. Tell her as she flicks off the kettle. Tell her as you put the car into gear. It doesn't matter. It really doesn't matter. Don't sigh as if it is some heavy weight instead of the most wonderful thing you have ever experienced.

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You'll always remember the moment that you stared at her - heart pounding like a stallion, hands clammy - and the moment that she smiled and said "I love you too."

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But for the love of God, don't say it if you don't mean it.

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