Six and a half pounds lost in a week - get in!

He's back, and oh yes, and this time he means business.
Probably the best weigh-in I've ever had today, as I've lost nearly half a stone since last Monday.
I'm fairly amazed and wondering if Weight Watchers don't mess with the scales to give a low reading just to keep you coming to the group.
But my group leader Lisa was quite surprised too, so much so she asked if I was eating enough. If she had seen me at the wedding buffet at the weekend she would have had no concern about that.
I did skip breakfast this morning, but I do that every Monday when I have a weigh-in anyway, doesn't everyone?
After putting on weight last week I was just hoping to get back where I was the week before that, which was 16st 11.5lbs.
So I was obviously a bit stunned to go from 16st 13lbs last Monday to 16st 6.5lbs today, 21.5 lbs in total since the start of May.
I'm not really sure why and I'm a bit worried it might be a fluke and next week I'll put on weight again. But I did cut out bread and chocolate, pretty much, last week, so that must have helped, and I did manage to go running three times in all and played a game of tennis.
The truism still rings true then, if you eat less fatty stuff and do more exercise, you will lose weight.
It's put me on a real high after the low of last week, and I even managed to resist treating myself to a Subway for lunch and opted for a big plate of salad leaves and some tuna mayo (light) instead. I have a real chance now to make the best of this progress and push on through the pounds.

First of four weddings this summer.

Nothing like a good wedding to lift the spirits and on Saturday we headed down to Dorset where we had a fantastic day witnessing the marriage of two of our friends.

It's one of four weddings we are going to this summer (hopefully no funerals!) and so I bought a new suit to get through the season.

I thought it would be good to see if the suit starts to fit better with each wedding through the summer.

If I'm honest it's probably a size too small, as you may be able to see from the above picture of me and my girlfriend Amy at the wedding. I really had to breathe in when I put the trousers on, and I can't quite do up the jacket. So, as the last wedding is in mid-September, I'm really hoping that it will be hanging off me by then and that the shirt is baggier than a bed sheet.

I also realised an important lesson as I was a little concerned about overdoing it and putting on half a stone in one buffet sitting.

The fact is, if I lived in a cave and had no friends and never had any social events to attend or any disruption to a Spartan existence, I've no doubt I could lose weight quickly and easily.

But I have a life to live, and things like weddings, barbecues, dinner parties and Christmas happen all the time. It'd be a pretty dull existence without it.

So I'm working round it and changing my behaviour to be able to make the most of the occasions without feeling guilty or taking a step back.

To that end, I only had one extra helping at the buffet, which I thought was pretty bloody restrained considering the amazing spread laid on at the reception.

I didn't drink all day either, well except for one glass of champagne for the toasts, and a small glass of red at lunch. And to my utter amazement I had just as good a time sober as I would have done paralytic, which is my usual approach to weddings.

Saying that, I could've done with a glass when the inevitable bouquet tossing took place and somehow ended up in Amy's hands.

So today I don't feel all that horrible guilt and disappointment I get after over-indulging which usually leads to scrapping the whole project and heading for the pizza menu.

Without being soft or anything, I do feel like I've gone through a bit of a rough patch but steered out of it thanks in no small way to some great messages of support on this blog.

I hope that the weigh-in tomorrow reflects that and also that I can move forward with the running this week.

Been a week of ups and downs. My weight's going up and my motivation is going down.
Well, not that bad maybe, but I feel like these are the hard yards for sure.
I'm so obsessed with trying to make sure I lose weight this week that I can hardly think of anything else. Which makes most of the rest of the life I'm supposed to be getting on with quite tricky.
It does feel a bit like one step forward two steps back this week. I played tennis on Thursday which was a great game actually. Well, obviously not in the same way the Federer Nadal Wimbledon final was last year, but it was great because I enjoyed it and it didn't feel like exercising in the normal way. I had some fun and after the first 45 minutes I was getting the old magic back, shame we only played for an hour!
I also can't believe it was blistering heat all week and as soon as I stepped out onto a tennis court a little rain began to fell.
So after bimbling around for the rest of the day I was buoyed by my exertions on the court that I thought a bit of a run in the evening would be a great way to end the day and hopefully grind down the calories a bit further.

Big mistake. I got half way round the short lap of the Downs and felt like I'd run ten miles. The usual thing of me wanting to literally run before I could walk was to blame again I think.

But most worryingly my knees felt like those of an arthritic 90-year-old and even though I stuck to running on the grass it was really quite painful so I gave up after less than ten minutes.

Felt quite deflated by that, but managed to avoid the usual counsel of Mr Cadbury and just wrote it off.

Maybe I won't try to do too much sport in one day again.

Remove the scales from your bathroom

There is a foot square lump of plastic and metal which sits in the bathroom and doesn't move, but seems to be with me wherever I go.
Every time I sniff pain chocolat, or eye up a Subway meatball sandwich, I can hear its Smeagle-like, tinny little whine in my head. "Go on, just tries it, see what happens. You wants it, you knows you loves a chocolate."
The voice in my head is coming from that all-powerful supernatural force known as the bathroom scales.
I am obsessed with them. I worry I spend more time with them than with my girlfriend. Not as worried as she is mind.
But before during and after every meal I wonder what the scales will say. I leap out of bed every morning fizzing with excitement and how I may have shed a few pounds in the night and can't wait to see what they say.
And when, as they often do, they don't give me the answer I want, I try a myriad different positions around the bathroom to place them. Perhaps the floor isn't even here, I'll try them over there and see what happens. Can I get any more naked when I'm standing on them? Does it make a difference if I breathe in?
It doesn't help that in common with most purchases I make they were the cheapest option, so you can get quite a wide range of readings, with as much as four pounds difference sometimes. So I like to give it a few goes before I settle on the average.
Except I nearly threw them out the bathroom window today, which wouldn't have been good as it was closed at the time.
I have spent all week avoiding bread products (does tortilla wraps count?) and even went on a run on Tuesday, and it doesn't seem to have made a difference. As usual I'm being far too impatient but it does seem to take about a day to put on five pounds and three weeks to lose it again.
And of course there is only one true set of scales, one set of scales to rule them all, the set at the Weight Watchers meeting every Monday. Now they really do scare me.

Cry fatboy cry

Pic caption: This is me crying about being fat. Grow up fatboy.

Okay, so, here goes with the kind of blog I never wanted to have to write.

When I started The Project back in May I told myself that if I wrote a blog whinging about how fat I am, snivelling into my double chocolate chip muffin about my 'struggle' and how hard it is to lose weight and that nobody understands me except the pizza delivery guy, (or should that be pizza pusher), that nobody would want to know. Quite reasonably people would just think 'stop eating fatboy, maybe that will help'.

But it seems I've hit a bit of a slump and according to Lisa, my Leader at Weight Watchers, six to eight weeks is the classic point where a lot of people look at their plate of steamed veg and half a salmon fillet and say 'feck this, I'm off for a pint and a burger'. Having made so much progress in the first six weeks, it was as if my psyche was saying 'hey there lard arse, you don't have enough of a challenge to deal with, so here's what we're going to do. I'm going to hit the self destruct button here, and you'll spend the next week eating several helpings of every meal, drinking more booze than is healthy and finding every excuse under the sun to get out of doing any exercise at all.' It's weird how psychology can play such a big part in this whole thing.

It also felt like everywhere I turned somebody was talking about how much weight they had lost.

There was a story in the Western Daily Press I saw about a bloke who had lost ten stone in a year, which rather puts me in the shade.

And then Stephen bloody Fry has suddenly shed six stone and is swishing around town like some 50+ Adonis. Although in the pic I saw he does look a lot older, and strangely like Michael Parkinson. He really was somebody who suited the well-fed look I think though.

Anyway he's talking about writing a book about it, blah blah. So another of my get-a bit better off-quickish ideas hits the fan.

Feeling a little lacking in motivation as I was, these amazing success stories did nothing for me except push me further into self-pity and closer to the muffins and wine.

The fact that I'm now writing the blog again is a good indication that I'm back on track as that was something else I neglected last week. I just couldn't be arsed with being good, and as I was falling off the wagon, I didn't want to write about it and highlight my failings. It's not exactly good PR.

I really didn't want to talk about it either when people asked me how it was all going, with no great achievements to announce I was really quite reluctant to have those conversations. In which case, I would tell myself, don't write a blog about it all and expect people to give a damn. So I snapped out of that too.

But there was definitely a switch in my brain that was flicked and led me to reject everything I have been building up over the past six to eight weeks. And I have also been a bit of a moody sod as a result.

I even almost didn't go to my weigh in yesterday, as I knew I had put weight back on but didn't want to have it confirmed. At the back of my mind the good side of the force was just about strong enough to fight the dark side and force me to get there, which was a good thing because I think if I stop going to meetings the whole game could be up. Structure and goals are key to success I think.

I have put on 1 and a half pounds from last week and I weighed in at 16 stone 13 lbs.

I am glad that it's still under 17 stone, and actually I know that one and a half pounds isn't a huge amount, but that's the point. If I hadn't gone to get weighed I may have stayed on the dark side this week and piled on another couple of pounds and by next week it could have been even worse.

So instead of crying like a baby I have decided to attack this head. For the next month I am going to take inspiration from the boy Fry and cut out bread and chocolate. Which means no more Nutella on toast for breakfast.

He reckoned the weight just 'rolled off' when he stopped eating bread. But he was also doing a lot of exercise according to his Twitter page.

It is also less than 12 weeks to go until the Bristol Half Marathon so I really have to step up several gears with the training too. And amongst all of that I've got to try to earn a living somehow. Bring it on.

Slim fast, die older, leave a good looking BMI

In the battle against obesity it has been a war of attrition this week, with little ground gained by either side.
So I was inspired into drastic action after seeing something on television that I was foolish enough to believe.
While I was in my usual half-comatose state in front of the box one night last week, some traffic-cops-on-patrol-real-life-hot-pursuit-police-camera-action thing came into view.
The show was mildly entertaining in the way that a double cheeseburger is mildly satisfying.
But I was particularly interested when the two cops on patrol in question started talking about their diet regime, which seemed to be staggeringly successful.
The two drivers, called something like Biff and Smudge, apparently spend their working days driving round Essex in a high-performance pursuit car looking for small time hoodies in clapped-out Ford Fiestas who might be smoking cannabis, while a hasbeen actor in a mockney accent gives it the beans on the voiceover.
After making their bust they head out on the motorway in pursuit of an untaxed vehicle.In a well-earned break they take their lunch while parked up on the roadside, which consists of a certain type of milkshake slimming drink. Their lunch that is, not the roadside.
They admit to being the fatboys of the team, and Smudge (or Biff) claims that he lost five stone in ten weeks! FIVE STONE! And his mate reckoned he shed two stone in just three weeks. That's going some, although I felt sorry for the doughnut shop owners who must be suffering as a consequence.
Both testimonials resulted in the best advertising that the slimming product could have hoped for as the next day I decided that variously flavoured milkshake was the way forward, and went out and bought a week's supply.
I thought I had found the answer to all my troubles. Here was an instant fix to my obesity, all I had to do was knock back a few of these for the next ten weeks and I would be slinking round in a pair of skinny leather trousers and a muscle-man t-shirt showing off my newly-sculpted pecs in no time.
The instructions seemed simple enough. One for breakfast, one for lunch with a normal evening meal.
Well, I say normal, what they actually mean is an evening meal the size of the average side order from your local pizza restaurant.
Once I started to read the small print I soon realised that the whole thing was a bit iffy.
Basically you substitute real food for these milkshakes, which contain all the nutrients and things you need to survive on fluids for most of the day.
But what it then says is that in order for it to really work you can also have a couple of snacks, as long as they consist of fruit, you should drink at least two litres of water a day, eat an evening meal of no more than 600 calories and get more exercise.
So let me get this crystal clear, what they are saying is that if you consume fewer calories, eat more healthily and get more active, the chances are you could lose weight.Oh my eyes! I've been blinded by the piercing light of truth from this revelation!
You also have to decide that eating food is nothing more than a daily function and be happy to remove any of the pleasure, taste and social interaction of having lunch.
How many journalists would go to lunch with their local MP to pan for nuggets of gossip over a couple of bottles of strawberry flavoured milk?
Perhaps it might go something like this: "I'll pass on the sea bass and cheeky bottle of Chablis thank you minister, I've already had my lunchtime milkshake meal substitute, and I couldn't eat another thing. Hmmmm, hmm." Obviously he would then order it anyway and claim it back on expenses.
Saying that, I bought into it wholeheartedly and on Monday I started my regime, hoping that by sticking to it for at least a week I would see some results.
By Wednesday lunchtime, just as I was contemplating my meal in a plastic bottle, my will power cracked as I was just so hungry and the thought of another milkshake was making me want to vomit. Which would probably have been a lot more successful.
All I had consumed over 48 hours was milkshake and soup, and I never realised how much I missed the humble sandwich.
Once again it seems my attempts to find a quick and effortless way to lose large amounts of weight are thwarted at the first hurdle.
Who knew there wasn't an easy way to do this? Seems like there's no substitute for sensible eating, more exercise and losing weight gradually and sensibly.Boo.

Monday weigh in success

I was dreading today's weigh in as I spent most of the weekend eating, but I actually lost weight last week.
I didn't mean to stuff my face, it wasn't like I had slumped to a food-bingeing low or anything, I just had two very meal-oriented family gatherings.
The first on Saturday involved a lovely large cooked dinner with seconds to follow, and then a bit of tea in the evening where much cheese was consumed and I learned how to make a pavlova.
Don't think it will be as easy as it looked. Both sittings involved large helpings of puddings too.
The second event was a barbecue for my dad's birthday yesterday where I had a cheeseburger, two barbecued spare ribs, several chicken drumsticks and two large sausages. More meat than was probably healthy for me, and followed again by lots of cheese and things like that.
I was fully expecting to have put on about half a stone, but it appears I have actually lost three and a half pounds and I am now a svelte 16 st and 11 1/2 lbs. It's the lightest I've been for a couple of years I think.
Total weight loss now standing at 16 and 1/2 lbs since May 5.
The meeting leader Lisa announced this to everybody and I went as red as the ketchup in my burger last night.
Anyway I treated myself with some sushi and salad for lunch.

Banksy, Daley Thompson and other stuff

Pic caption: According to somebody, this is Banksy. Looks more like former Stone Roses now Primal Scream bassist Mani to me. Either way I couldnt' give a monkey's fart in a high wind. He either does great things with a spray can, or a bass guitar.

So ITV News has started some new feature called OBESITY UK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and there is a very serious TV journalist looking very earnestly into the camera talking about the EPIDEMIC that is SWEEPING BRITAIN, and THREATENS TO ENGULF US ALL!!!!

Anyway, I happen to catch it this evening, God knows how with all these obese people in the world, I'm surprised I could even get into my flat.

But it was interesting as it kind of backed up what I've been banging on about for a little while regarding men and obesity. According to the very serious and not very obese news reader there are basically more obese men than women, and she said something like 40 per cent of men are now overweight, which is a staggering number, I must have misheard her on account of being in the trough at the time and getting bits of hog roast stuck in my ears. Ew.

But I noticed in the Weight Watchers bumpf this week that they are holding a 'bring a bloke' event trying to encourage more people like me to take 'those first steps'. Apparently you don't have to stand in the middle of the room and announce "My name is Simon Peevers, and I am a fat bastard", I just like to do it for effect.

Anyway, in the stuff from WW there was some other similarly shocking figure, so I think I might be onto something after all.

It's all very well for these stats to be chucked around, but the fact is more and more blokes will suffer in silence unless the diet industry starts to acknowledge our existence.

Everything I have encountered during this journey so far in terms of weight loss products, literature, groups, websites etc are all geared to women. Fairly obvious point I realise, but I guess I have been surprised that there doesn't appear to be anything that men can relate to.

All you get is the extreme body images of some of the fitness mags which have pics of not very fat blokes talking about how they lost six pounds and gained a washboard stomach in a week by running 20 miles every day. Well done you, what about trying to lose five stone, where do you start with that Mr 19-year-old-Washboard-Stomach-Idiot.

Not that I'm grouchy about it at all.

Anyway according to ITV, Yorkshire has the highest number of fat men in Britain, must be all those puddings. Is that why they voted for the BNP, because they were too fat to reach another box to tick in?

So they have drafted in Daley Thompson to train these lardie boys up to lose weight, and they will be following their progress over the next six months. Hah. As if anybody would want to follow the progress of some fat idiot puffing and panting their way to trying to lose weight, and er, run a marathon or something stupid.

I can't believe it though. Daley Thompson! I'd love to have him training me, no offence Marc.

And he'd be in less danger of getting attacked in the streets by rabid racists in Bristol than BNP HQ Yorks.

Blimey, that's all a bit political, I shall go and take my mogadon and watch Big Brother to cool my brain off.

But have to mention Banksy, I think it's great that he's rocked up in Bristol with his little exhibition. I think we should start a game called "I've just seen Banksy in..." and fill in the blanks. Something along the lines of "I've just seen Banksy in TK Maxx in Broadmead, buying a new face mask and false 'tache". Or, "I've just seen Banksy being bundled into the back of a British Transport Police van by an over zealous officer who has been waiting for this moment for some years". Maybe.

I also hope somebody goes along and subverts the whole exhibition, turning it into a gallery full of Turner and Constable works, as that would surely be quite Banksyesque wouldn't it?

I think I'm mainly in a bit of a bad mood because I ate too much crap today and feel a bit guilty and bad about it.

I had a bowl of cereal and toast for breakfast, not the worst thing to have, but had a steak sarnie on white ciabatta for lunch with my friend Claire, which was lovely and was great to see her.

But I sort of had a couple of cheese burgers for dinner.

I know it was bad but I was just tired and a bit fed up and craving something juicy. Obviously the steak at lunch wasn't enough.

So I bought a couple of good quality scotch beef burgers, and grilled them. Instead of putting them in buns though I wrapped them in low fat tortilla wraps, which I thought was pretty innovative actually, and I may discuss the idea with the Gourmet Burger Kitchen and see if I can patent the idea. I did also melt some cheddar cheese on them, so at least not processed crap.

They tasted lovely, as did the home made potato salad, which probably had a bit more mayo in than necessary. And the chocolate muffin was nice afterwards too.

I guess I'll pay for it on Monday at my weigh in, but I couldn't resist and my will was broken.

Back to good habits next week.

British Heart Foundation

I've now applied for the big one, next year's London marathon.

I won't know for a while if I've even got a place, but just filling out the online form filled me with a touch of trepidation, what if I actually have to go through with what I have so foolishly claimed I am hoping to attempt? I optimistically ticked the box for a medium sized t-shirt.

I've applied to run for the British Heart Foundation, because it's obvious really.

There are so many great causes and maybe I should have opted for something Bristol-based, but I was born with a hole in my heart which was operated on when I was a baby. And in 2007 I had another major operation to replace the aortic valve in my heart, which can best be described as being pretty much crucial to helping the blood flow round your heart. If that bad boy takes a day off, it's pretty much curtains. Now I have a metallic valve in place of the knackered one I was born with. This means, weirdly, that every time my heart beats the valve clicks open and it sounds like I've swallowed a clock. So I literally have a dicky ticker, (note correct use of the word literally which nobody seems to understand these days) although thanks to the amazing team at Southampton General Hospital it is no longer dicky.

One of the main reasons for this blog is to promote the idea of getting blokes like me to think about their health, as more and more men are dying of heart disease and becoming obese.

Every road you take back to health and fitness has to start with a healthy heart. It's called the heart, because it is at the heart of everything. I think.

I have also pledged to raise £3,000 for BHF by running the London Marathon, which to be honest seems more daunting than losing eight stone.

Fingers crossed for now though that I get a place, otherwise this whole enterprise will be a little fruitless, unless I get people to sponsor me to run up and down the Bristol to Bath cycle path for five hours in a marathon of my very own. I think we're all running our own marathons in one way or another. Certainly hitting the wall lately.

I was a bit naughty last night and went to Zizi's for spaghetti meatballs, instead of a bowl of water.

I did spend an hour in the gym though, and had a really good 45 minute run on Tuesday around the whole of the Downs in Bristol, which felt pretty good.

Just off for a fresh-air sarnie on Ryvita lite. Woop woop.

Latest weigh in - success!

Had my first weigh in for two weeks yesterday and I am now officially down to 17 st 1 lb, a total of 13 lbs lost since May 4.

That's so close to a stone (14 lbs)as makes no difference, so I'm really pleased with that, especially as I had an up-and-down week last week which included pizzas and Chinese food and loveliness like that.

It's a weird thing being weighed, I get quite nervous about it. As I go to a Monday meeting I start thinking about it on Friday and all through the weekend.

The Weight Watchers meeting I go to is in a room in a church, which is kind of appropriate if, like me, you're hoping for a miracle.

When I get there I always make sure I go to the loo first, take all the change out of my pocket, make sure I'm not wearing any heavy jumpers or thick socks, take my watch off and breathe out all the air in my body to give myself the best chance of shaving off another half a pound.

There's no challenging the scales either, it's a bit like the referee's decision, there is no appeal process. You can't get a second go, you have to accept what it says in black and LCD.

Luckily so far I have been down every week, but it can be soul destroying when you've been starving yourself all week and running up and down the M32 three times a day to find you've lost just half a pound, or nothing at all.

Worst of all is seeing you have put weight on. I crumble at that. The only thing to cure that level of misery is a BK double whopper with cheese, and onion rings. But it doesn't really help.

I've also signed up to the Weight Watchers website which apparently has lots of useful resources for people like me. I shall check it out and report back.

I reckon they could probably do with a decent blog on it though! So I shall see if I can find one to recommend to them.

on becoming a grumpy old man

Pic caption: A vision of the not too distant future.

The novelty of working in the 'virtual office' is clearly wearing thin as I am becoming more and more annoyed at the fools I have to suffer around me.

And the fact I have to keep buying lunch and coffees at various venues in order to justify sitting in there and using their wi-fi is making this all quite expensive. Perhaps I should send my bills to Orange and get them to reimburse me for every day that some nerk has failed to flick a switch and give me my broadband back.

I made the mistake of ordering an orange juice and lemonade yesterday and for the first time in my life retorted 'how much?!', when the child behind the bar informed me it was £3.10. Then, just like my dad would say, I mumbled 'could've had a pint of lager for that' as if making the point would result in the barman realising how overpriced a simple soft beverage is these days and charge me less. He just looked at me and said: "Yes, you could've".

I think it says more about the number of times I've ever ordered orange juice in a bar than the pricing structure at the particular establishment.

I think I am bit more reactionary these days. I was sat at the junction at the top of Blackboy Hill last night, on my way to meet Marc for a run, when the passenger in a 4x4 going past me started waving frantically. My immediate reaction was to scowl angrily and gesture dramatically that I had done nothing wrong, what the hell was her problem? I then realised it was a friend of mine and she was merely waving to say hello and all she got in return was a load of silent verbal from me. Perhaps I shouldn't always assume the worst.

Today I discovered one of the most annoying things about having to work in public places is the amount of silly young ladies, and boys, almost always students, who are engaged in the most inane and fatuous conversations, punctuated with shrill giggling and noisy exclamations. Whatever happened to furious political debates or plotting the downfall of the capitalist regime over a few pints of very worth lager. Jeremy Kyle and the best websites to nick essays from seem to be the topics these days. How dare they sit there having a good time, being young and beautiful and disturbing my peace by laughing so much? Don't they know the world is is full of pain and misery and people who don't pay you for work you did weeks ago!

Of course I'm just jealous and bitter about not being 20 and taught any more.

Apologies to any students who may read this, no real offence meant, I was almost certainly as much, if not more of a tw&t when I was a student. I just choose to conveniently forget that as I start my descent into early middle age.

Of course my girlfriend likes to remind that far from beginning my slide towards becoming a grumpy old man, I propelled myself headlong and arrived at Grumpsville some time ago.

But what the hell does this have to do with running?

Well, I weighed myself unofficially this morning and appear to be slipping under the 17st mark now and was 16st 12lbs. I'm pleased with that.

This followed a two mile run around Clifton Downs last night with Marc and Sarah, a friend who is only an honorary member of the Fat Bastards' Running Club, on account of not being fat, or quite obviously a bloke, or indeed a bastard.

It was still pretty hot but we managed a lap of the Downs, about 35 mins, and only a couple of stops on the way.

I'm still not feeling totally sorted after the move, the flat is still chaos, although less so, and somehow it affects my mental state as well.

Which is why I rewarded myself with a plate of seafood pasta, with half fat creme fraiche and chopped chives. Which is fine but it was followed by a couple of double chocolate cookies, I couldn't resist.

This morning I had a banana, and two more cookies for breakfast, but have been quite good for lunch with a hot chorizo and new potato salad on a bed of rocket and red onion, at the Prom.

Very nice, if a little heavy on the balsamic vinegar.

Tonight could be tricky though. Think we may be headed towards a take out from Rocco's, the Italian restaurant which does take away, which is just perfect. The excuse it that we still have lots of sorting to do in the flat, so can't really get to the cooker.

But I am planning a five mile run tomorrow, so really I need those pasta carbs.

Back to work - virtually

Pic caption: Me getting frustrated with telecoms companies. (picture posed by model)




I'm currently spending my time running between the new flat which resembles the warehouse at the end of Raiders Of The Lost Ark (not for size obviously, but the number of boxes), and places like the Watershed and The Prom on Gloucester Road, where they have free wi-fi and I can at least do a bit of work.
Apparently, according to Orange, it can take anything between seven and fifteen days to flick a switch somewhere in cyber space that allows me to be online at home.
I am staggered that in an age where a couple of astronauts can take a socket set up into space to change a tyre on the Hubble telescope, or whatever they did, that it has to take so long to transfer your broadband, with the same company, from one phone line to another.
Still, musn't grumble. Although I do enjoy it.
But I am actually also enjoying a change in surroundings, although it can't be good for business. I've been sat in the Watershed for over an hour now and all I've had is a pint of soda, with lime, which at just £1 can't be enough to cover the electricity I'm using to power my laptop.
I did however indulge in scrambled eggs with smoked salmon on granary toast at the Prom, yesterday and today, so didn't feel so bad.
The virtual office is definitely the way forward. There are currently about four other people sat here, all of them like me, immersed in the dull glow of their laptop screens. Perhaps writing a novel, moving stocks and shares around, putting together major proposals for new businesses or, again like me, perhaps just checking out Facebook and writing nonsense emails to their mates.
I can't believe what a victim I am of all of this new technology, (new to me at least). I was stomping around and pulling my ever-decreasing hair out when I couldn't get online earlier, and realised it was just because I wanted to update my 'status'. I should just use the word 'sad' or 'too much time on my hands' in future.
But there is a woman in the corner here with what can only be described as a book, and a sheaf of paper, and appears to be scribbling symbols and signs onto it, and forming what I believe are called sentences and paragraphs. I have no idea what witchcraft she is practising, but I'm not sure I trust it. It'll never catch on mind.

I managed to go for a run last night with Marc, about 40mins. We met at 6pm and it was still really baking hot, like running through hot glue. Really hard work and I am beginning to worry a bit about being in shape for the half marathon in September. I need to start cranking up the distance. Marc has taken to literally running rings around me as we plod on, which he says helps his training. Doesn't do much for me. Think I might accidentally stick a foot out in the style of Mary Decker and Zola Budd - how old am I? - next time he tries it.

Also managed to eat a home cooked meal for the first time in four days last night, good old chicken stir fry.
I don't appear to have lost any weight over the weekend, despite my physical jerks, but also I have not put any on, despite my indulgence in take aways. So that's no bad thing, I've managed to break even and can push on from here.

Getting back on track

It's been a hell of a few days.

The whole project has gone to pot as I have been leading the charge in the battle to move house.

Since Friday I have consumed two large pizzas and one Chinese takeaway, drunk one glass of white wine and two glasses of red.

I've done no running and not seen the inside of the gym.

But, I have been working like a Trojan to get moved into the new place.

We started shifting boxes on Saturday morning and didn't stop until Monday at 3pm.

On Sunday Amy and I spent 15 hours lifting and shifting. I don't think I have ever worked so hard physically. Thanks go to Dave for helping on Saturday.

Add to all that effort the hottest weekend since the universe was formed, it felt like, and it resembled something out of a war film at times.

Battered, bruised and generally rinsed out is pretty much how we felt last night as we made it round to Amici on Gloucester Road near our new home for a huge pizza and a couple off well-earned glassed of vino.

So after three days of toil I will actually be really annoyed if I've put any weight on, as there's no way I would work that hard normally.

But I will have to wait until next Monday to find out as I missed this week's Weight Watchers meeting due to above mentioned toil. Last time I went on our dodgy scales in the bathroom I was down to 17 stone, which is a full stone in about a month, but it's not official yet. It's a bit like the Olympics, it has to be measured under competition conditions.

Now the real work begins trying to find space for all the unbelievably massive amount of crap we both seem to have amassed.