Yes it has been a while, hasn’t it?
I know, I know, once I started blogging I really should have been more regular.
No, I don’t think All Bran will help, but thanks for the suggestion.
You see it’s not a digestive problem, in fact that reminds me of the old joke,
‘Doctor, I have a bowel problem.’
‘I see – are you regular?’
‘As clockwork. 8 o’clock every morning.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I don’t get up until 8:30!’
Ah! The old ‘uns are the best, eh?
But no, seriously, I’ve had a few things to attend to lately.
Like what, did you say?
Nice of you to ask. If you must know I found out I was diabetic.
Isn’t it always the way – you go to the quacks with one thing and come out with something else!
‘Have a blood test,‘ they said, ‘let’s see how the old ticker’s holding up now you’ve had the bypass done for a couple of years.’
So off you trot to the vampire department in the local hospital armed with your slip of paper and sit there for a few years waiting for someone to plunge a needle the size of a small drain pipe (I kid you not!) into your exposed flesh.
You got sugar!
So then they send you off on a course – ‘How to live with being a drain on N.H.S. resources,‘ that sort of thing. Here they teach you all about fats, proteins, starches and those pesky carbohydrates.
The upshot is that you’re allowed a glass of water.
Every second Wednesday, unless the month has an ‘R’ in it.
So I’ve cut out the sugar – mostly anyway.
Alcohol doesn’t count, right?
Oh, don’t go all ‘holier than thou,’ on me.
A bloke’s got to have some vices, huh!
After all I packed up the fags after the heart attack didn’t I!
(For my readers in the good old U.S of A, fags means cigarettes over here – I’m not confessing to an alternative lifestyle!)
So – black coffee, no sugar if I pop round to yours in future please, o.k?
No, now you mention it I don’t drink that any more.
As a fully fledged Brit I used to drink tea by the gallon, but ever since the heart op I can’t stand the stuff.
I know! How strange!
Anyway I digress.
So after cutting out sugary
drinks (sugar free lemon squash now, no more Coca Cola – incidentally isn’t Pepsi crap? Oh, you like that better? Each to their own I suppose.) cutting out cakes, biscuits, chocolate – I know, ain’t I good! I looked around and decided to join a gym.
Well yes, I did go to Action Heart for almost a year after the you know what, but I hurt my foot and dropped out.
Well, I’m sorry you think that’s a poor excuse, but that’s what happened.
So I’m back on the programme.
5 minutes warm up on the treadmill, then 15 minutes faster.
Oh, not quite that fast eh? Let’s slow that down a bit!
5 minutes on the exercise bike, alternating 30 seconds fast, 30 seconds slow – slow is good I find!
And so, on to the cross trainer.
Ever used one?
No neither had I!
15 minutes said the instructor as he set it up for me.
15 sodding minutes!?
It’s an instrument of torture.
Dear God, I couldn’t stand on the thing!
Your legs go up and down and round and round, whilst your arms flail helplessly trying to keep your balance and grab the walking poles at the same time.
It’s nigh on impossible!
‘Keep going,’ shouts chummy, encouragingly, as you topple to the left and unintentionally hug him around the neck as you try not to fall off.
Honestly it’s one of those ‘Ropopov!’ moments I spoke of in an earlier blog.
I can think of no better use for the word.
3 1/2 minutes!
Yes that’s what I managed.
And 2 of those were spent trying to get off the damn thing!
I’ve been back since.
2 minutes 18 seconds.
I know that because helpfully there’s a readout that taunts you.
In flashing digital numerals.
For all around to see and mock!
Am I going back?
I’ll let you know.
Like I said, I’ve been busy!