Dieting is Crap

Yup, I'm in a mood to state the obvious tonight. I am doing a two-week diet, which promises that it will lose you half a stone. I already knew that wasn't going to happen, but my New Year's resolution was to try to reach my target weight of 63kg (9st 9 lbs) this year, and I thought I'd give it a kickstart with the diet.

I'm trying to manage on 1200 calories a day. Except I'm not, because when you average in the odd drink (I'm officially off the drink and on the soda water, though I have consumed a couple of glasses of wine), pre-workout Jaffa Cake for energy (if they're good enough to fuel the Arsenal football team, they're good enough for me) and the small piece of blondie I ate last night, it's probably more like an average of 1400 calories a day.

My basal metabolitic rate is 1333 calories a day, according to the fancy body analysis machine in my gym. That's how many I need just to survive, not counting energy needed to walk around and go to the gym. Those with a grasp of maths can see how this works.

And it is working. I'm not going to lose half a stone; it's nearly impossible to lose that much that quickly when you are already within the "acceptable" weight range for your height, but I have lost some weight, which is great.

On the one hand, it's a useful exercise after the indulgence of Christmas. It's good to exercise willpower, to practise saying no to food you don't need, to learn to enjoy an evening out with your friends without getting sozzled.

On the other hand... Christ, it's boring. Boring, boring, boring. I am sick of bloody snacking on apples, I am sick of not drinking, and mostly I am sick of feeling hungry. Thank goodness this is over with on Saturday.

It's been worth it, but I am not doing this again!

Normally I Post This Stuff On The Other Blog

The other blog being the Lonkblig of infamous repute. However, this fits better here: the 10 worst cycling crashes ever. Do not read if squeamish.










Right now this damn blog's a misnomer anyway. I'm neither cycling nor diving, thanks to the weather, and it sucks. I've seen people out and about on bikes, but they're either a) on a mountain bike or b) accident statistics waiting to happen. I just keep my fingers crossed that the temperature gets above freezing regularly soon. I will cycle in wind and rain, but not ice and snow.

As for the diving? I'm starting to hallucinate the smell of wet neoprene, like a coffee addict doing detox hallucinating espresso.

It's as well I gave up on that whole "trying to be normal" thing a while back, now, isn't it?

Salt and Grit

Are two things this nation apparently doesn't have enough of.

Is it just me, or does anyone else find themselves wondering at the fact that often the people rushing to blame the government for failing to foresee the worst winter weather we've had in at least a decade and lay in sufficient supplies, are often the same people who themselves didn't buy any grit, salt or shovels, and are now complaining that they can't get out of their houses? What happened to self-reliance?

In other news, the giant icicles on top of my house are now melting. I've half-sad, half-relieved. They were very pretty, but at the same time they did add that certain element of danger to popping out to buy some milk at Tesco. I can see the front page of the Chronicle now: "Woman Buying Groceries Killed By Falling Ice". Not my chosen epitaph. (Then again, my chosen epitaph has already been taken: "Bugger this, I wanted a better world". Top marks to anyone who gets the reference.)

Giant Penises In The Snow

.... is not the name of Tracey Emin's latest work, funnily enough. It's what was spotted on the lawn in the centre of my office on the first day back last Monday.

Someone had carefully walked through the snow and drawn a giant penis in it.

How we laughed as we scurried to the windows to watch the security men trying to cross it out by walking over it. Leading to the effect of someone trying to scribble out graffiti on a toilet wall.

I don't know what was going through their heads when they were doing that, but rarely have I ever been so glad that I hold the job I hold.

Happy New Year.

In the Bleak Midwinter

...Frosty wind made moan.

Well, I have returned to my home after an enjoyable week and a bit away from Newcastle, whilst I visited my friends and family in my home town over the holidays.

I very nearly didn't make it there. I set off later than planned on Wednesday 23rd, and was making good time down the A1, when, shortly before Wetherby, I realised that my headlights were glinting off the road ahead of me, and the reason they were doing this was because the road was frozen. Not reassuring.

I slowed down to 50mph, which is when the blizzard hit. Light snow at first, getting progressively heavier, and about fifteen minutes into this, I realised that I couldn't see the lane markings, due to the snow, and was driving in the left-hand lane on the principle that if I went onto the rumble strips, at least I'd know I was straying out of the lane.

I don't panic whilst driving, not because I'm particularly cool-headed, but simply because panicking doesn't make driving any easier. I will admit that I was thinking "Hmm. This really isn't good. Really, really, not a good driving situation".

I slowed down to 30mph and followed the lights of the car in front of me, then the gritting lorry in front of me. As the sign for Wetherby services appeared, I wondered if I should try following the gritting lorry all the way home to Wakefield. Then it turned off towards Wetherby services, my brain calculated the factors involved here (nearly midnight, freezing, blizzard, unlit motorway, fewer and fewer cars on the roads, it would take another hour at the speed I was going to get there, God knew what the roads in Wakefield would be like after I turned off the motorway, and for all I knew there was a jack-knifed lorry around the corner), and made the fast decision to get off the road.

I drove very slowly round the snowiest roundabout I've seen in some years, and did something I've never done before; I pulled in at a roadside hotel and asked if they had any rooms going free for the night. (If they hadn't, Plan B was to kip in the chairs in reception.) Luckily, they did, and I took a double room, breakfast included, £50. As I headed off to retrieve my suitcase and laptop from the car, a small queue of weary travellers was forming behind me.

Later, I called my mum to tell her I would be seeing her and the rest of the family later that night.

I don't panic whilst driving. But my hands were shaking as I dialled the number.

Other than that, it was an excellent Christmas, and much enjoyed by all. (For those of you wondering, the conditions the following morning were snowy, as shown in the photo above, which is the view out of my hotel room window that morning, but much easier: I was home 40 minutes after I set off.) Happy New Year.

Fell Off My Bike

Well, actually I didn't. I encountered a patch of black ice whilst turning right at a mini-roundabout and the back wheel skidded gracefully out from under me. The bike and I described a graceful arc down to the ground, where we lay on our sides for a second or two thinking "What the hell just happened?" Luckily there was nothing coming. There never is - it's a mini-roundabout in Shieldfield, near the patch of grass where the local kids like to set fire to stuff on Bonfire Night, and it's blocked off for cars, but not to bikes, which merrily pedal their way to and from the city centre, except when it's icy. (On the left is a nice picture of the sort of morning it was, as seen from the Civic Centre.)

I was fine, if stunned. It's winter and my current cycling rig is:

base layer,

middle-layer / fleecy jumper (on very cold mornings),

cycling jacket,

knee-length cotton socks from Primark (not cool but keep your calves nice and snug),

trainers,

thermal gloves,

helmet,

balaclava (again, if really cold),

padded shorts if it's really cold,

and, most importantly, thick fleecy jogging pants. (Also from Primark. Cheap and who cares if they get muddy?).

I had plenty of padding and walked away with nothing worse than a bruise on my right outer thigh.

More importantly, I had plenty of stuff in the panniers, which provided a nice gap in between the bike/my left and the road, so the bike wasn't harmed. (Lucky - I skidded with the gears-side nearest the road.) I heal for free, but I have to pay to get the bike repaired.

Anyway, I'm currently off the road, simply due to the fact that it's now so cold all the roads are icy, and my bike is a hybrid, not a mountain bike. Excellent for commuting and touring, not so good for anything requiring extra grip in slippy conditions. I'll be back on it soon, though, and when I am? I'll be on the main roads until winter is over.

If for no reason other than, for two nights afterwards, I would fall half asleep, find myself having a cycling dream, then waking up with a start as I dreamt about sliding off.

The second time this happened, I distinctly remember thinking: "Hey! Not fair!"

I'm Back...

...and indeed I have been for a while. Two weeks.

The States were great. Wedding was lovely, Buckeyes won their football game, my family are fine. And I love New York. I love it because you can walk around it, I love it because of its history, I love it because they take pizza and cheesecake with the seriousness that both require.

Mostly I love it because - well, I love America, and Americans, though I was not fond of their last administration. But sometimes the sheer cheeriness and earnestness gets a little overwhelming when you come from a culture where shop assistants ignore you unless you ask for help, and taking things seriously is a rarity in social discourse. New Yorkers are funny, talk fast, and say stuff they don't mean. The guy behind the counter at the World Trade Center memorial sold me a keyring and looked me in the eye maybe once, because he was busy kidding his friend that he was a psycho about to go on a rampage.

I could have hugged both of them.