Did They Know It Was Christmas? What has happened since Band Aid?

In 2014 it will be 30 years since those iconic news reports from Micheal Buerk were relayed into our homes from a famine-struck Ethiopia, which inspired Bob Geldof and others to release Do They Know It’s Christmas, and later led to Live Aid.

I’m thinking of this of course because it’s currently playing on a radio somewhere and it made me think about that time, and what has changed since.

For a start I can’t believe it’s 30 years ago, but for me it is so imbued with everything I remember about Christmas as a kid. I was nine years old when it came out, and my sister bought me the seven inch single, which still resides up in the loft somewhere.

I think that age between eight and ten is the zenith in the arc of Christmas meaning. It is the time when you are most aware of what seems like the endless consumerist possibilities that Christmas holds, while still being young enough to believe in the magic of it. That Christmas I believe I also got the 1984/85 season Southampton replica kit, which I wore 24/7, including shin pads, until going back to school.

I think the other thing Band Aid did, apart from raise lots of money for chariddee, was open our eyes to the world, and heralded a new age of global awareness. I admit I was only a kid at the time, but all I knew about Africa was what Mrs Reed taught us in primary school, which was a faintly rose-tinted colonial view of the continent, which featured drawing colourful pictures of abundant jungles, lions and funny looking tribes that bore little relation to reality. Nothing like the images of vast swathes of arid and unforgiving desert, offering no shelter to the millions of starving men women and children suffering in the heat, too weak even to bat the flies away from their faces.

On a subconscious level, as I was only nine, I’m sure it had a profound effect on me that led to becoming a journalist myself years later. Although there wasn’t much opportunity to shine a light on that kind of Biblical suffering while faithfully taking notes at Wincanton town council meetings.

The whole thing around Band Aid and Live Aid that followed is that for about six months everybody was acutely aware of what was happening in Africa, in the very place where humanity took its first steps where the very future of its people was in jeopardy, and doubtless for that time many lives were saved.

But in the 30 years since then human tragedies on an equal and at times far larger scale (Congo, Darfur, Rwanda, Zimbabwe etc) are ongoing yet nobody’s hiring out Wembley stadium and trying to effect the kind of change we saw in 1984/5. Okay, there was Live8, but, it’s almost as if since our eyes have been open wide to dire state of some parts of the world, they’ve actually glazed over because there really is only so much we as individuals can do.

And so it’s up to our great elected leaders to sort things out, rather than impassioned rock stars, and that’s a bit of a worry. Although, I have to say, while I’m no fan generally of what this current coalition stands for, fair play to Cameron for continuing to put money into overseas aid. After all, you could argue, had we not roamed half the world looking for countries to conquer and squeeze dry of all resources, places like Africa might not be in quite so much trouble now. I think we probably owe them a fair bit, especially at this time of year.

Now, there's a cheery message for Christmas!

Week 1 and five pounds down

Okay fat fans, the scores on the doors after one week are looking pretty good as I weighed in on Friday morning five pounds lighter than a week ago.

However, as a veteran around this particular block I’m well aware that the first week on this journey is often the easiest, and the mere fact of cutting calories and going to the gym a couple of times has a huge impact, when starting from a very low base point of activity. Next week is unlikely to be quite so dramatic I suspect, particularly after this weekend’s Jamie Oliver-inspired massive pie:

Steak, Guinness and cheese pie, from Jamie at Home 

And this is the biggest part of the challenge I think; living like an abstemious monk from Monday to Friday, and then falling into a vat of pie, red wine and indulgence at the weekend. So the five pounds that was shed so diligently is then layered back on by Monday morning. Now, that would be fine if I was oscillating between ten and ten and a half stone, dancing around the room in my skinny-arsed 26” waist jeans. But at this stage I just need to keep the good habits up seven days a week in order to make progress, otherwise all that will happen is that I keep going back to the start like a needle jumping on a scratched record. And nobody wants to sound like a broken record do they? (For anybody reading this who doesn’t understand that reference, this is a record.)

That makes me think that maybe the start of December, the run-in to the biggest overindulgence of the year, is not the best time to start trying to lose weight and get, but it shouldn’t take the brains of a trussed up turkey to realise this. In fact in some ways I think it is the best time, because I can at least get used to the idea before the cold harsh reality of January hits home, and the harrowing bleakness of a English mid-winter sets in.

What is interesting is looking at the stats of my progress through the magic of the interweb and the app My Fitness Pal, which helps me stay in control of calorie consumption. It not only tells me how many calories I’m taking in, but how many I burn during exercise, and what levels of carbs, fat, sodium, sugar etc that’s going into my system. Following my faithful entries this weekend including the pie, it looks like I’ve almost doubled the entire week’s calorie allowance

I’ve also been entering my weight on a regular basis and the past 12 months my chart looks not unlike a Manhattan skyline, with all its ups and downs:

The ups and downs of dieting

The stats are good and enables me to see exactly what’s happening and the make-up of my diet, but it’s also confirmation in black and white that the next three weeks are going to be a challenge for the waist line with two work parties, one for the St Paul’s Players and at least two invites to friends before we even make the trip to Amy’s family to tuck into the traditional huge turkey dinner. Frankly January comes as something of a relief, although I’m looking forward to all of those things of course. It is, after all, the season to be jolly. Cheers, I’m off for a run.