In late March, I packed away my Winter clothes and swapped them for my Summer wardrobe, which was much smaller than it had been in previous years - both in terms of quantity and size. Now it is time to swap them back again, and I am left with a slight problem; those Winter clothes are going to be a little more snug than is comfortable. Last year, having kept off between 4 and 5 stone for over twelve months, I made the brave (or stupid) decision to send all of my plus size clothes to the charity shop. I was sad at losing them - especially those treasures purchased many years ago from Boden rummage sales and the reduced racks in Seasalt and Joules. But I was resolute that they were never going to fit me again, and by hanging onto them, I was giving myself a safety net to catch me if I fell off the wagon. I took them all to the Cancer Research Charity Shop, and felt elated as I walked away, because now there was no going back.
But then I had a hysterectomy in November ( it helps if I have something to blame), and I have been unable to say no to anything since. If there are cream buns in the fridge, (not that they usually survive the journey from shopping bag to fridge), then I am obliged to eat them. If the kids are going to the shop, I am obliged to ask them to bring home fudge coated pretzels. I am returning to my bad ways, meandering back along the road to hell. I had intended to emerge after Lockdown as a beautiful butterfly. But no. I am the walrus! Fortunately some of my good (Slimming World induced) habits remain - I still cook without oil or butter, I buy low fat meat, bulk out curries and stews with vegetables, and mostly avoid bread. So aside from the cakes and biscuits and crisps and also gin and lager shandy (not in the same glass), I am doing OK, even if my clothes might be suggesting otherwise.
This week I have been determined to sidestep the slippery slope, returning to eating fruit and greek yoghurt for breakfast, a plate of bits for lunch and a hearty tea. No cakes, biscuits, puddings or snacks, which were the main culprits for the two or so stone I have gained since I last donned my Winter clothes. I have decided that this is it. No more excuses. Lockdown is not my downfall, and neither is menopause. The real fact of the matter is that I cannot say no, and I don't think I ever could.
In support of this assertion, let me take you back to the mid 1980's when Singapore Sal and I were at our most popular. Reminiscing a few years ago, I asked her why it was that we always had such ugly boyfriends, and she said 'because if anyone ever asked us out, we never said 'no'.' As usual, she is absolutely right, we were always just very grateful. I have been contemplating whether the inability to say no might also be the reason for my three weddings. Sal obviously learned faster than me, as she has only had the one husband. Or maybe she's just better at being married than I am.
Covid news. My daughter T and I tested negative for Covid. Like many others, we had just caught a cold and cough, and were lucky to dodge the virus on this occasion. A couple of weeks ago, I was randomly selected to participate in a survey to see whether I had already had Covid. The kit arrived in the post, and consisted of a little stick with a window similar to a pregnancy test. I wasn't surprised by the result which indicated that I have not previously had the virus, although it was very clear that the results are not 100% accurate in all cases. As the numbers of Covid infections rise, and once again the news is showing footage of overweight people in hospitals being turned onto their stomachs to help them to breathe, I am reminded of the increased risks of being overweight, and know that the time has come where I need to stop saying yes and start saying no. I should really have learned my lesson by now, so be warned. from hereon in, I will be saying no to dates with ugly men, to proposals of marriage, and most importantly to cake. (Especially wedding cake!).
Running news I haven't run for around 5 weeks. I have had an appointment with the physio to discuss my cankles, and it appears that in conditioning myself to switch off my brain when it tells me I am too weak and cannot run, I may have pushed my poor spindly ankles too hard, too fast and too soon, and caused some damage. I took a break from running whilst recovering from the operation in November 2019, until the beginning of the following February. Instead of starting all over again with the Couch To 5K programme and building up gradually, I ran for as long as I could, and got back to running 5K too quickly. This has damaged my tendons and I now have to do physio three times a day for the next two or three months before I can resume running. When I see other people running, I feel very envious, no matter how slow they are.
I worry, as my fitness is sliding and I might never be able to get back into it ever again. Everything is now so much more of a challenge, not only because I am approaching old ladyhood, with crumbling bones and short tendons, but because of Covid restrictions. I have considered swimming as an alternative to running, but the local pools are only open to members. I have looked into fitness classes, but what if I damage my cankles even more? Singapore Sal has been gently encouraging me to consider Yoga, but the danger of farting in front of a roomful of strangers is too much to bear. There are no limits to the excuses why I cannot commit to any form of exercise other than running. And anyone would think I LOVED running. Anyone, that is, other than my family who have witnessed me lying in bed every other morning crying because I don't want to have to get up and go running. Who am I kidding!
Writing News I am hoping that one day there will be some good news on the hunt for an agent, but sadly today is not that day. From the submissions I made in the Summer, there are now just four agents from whom I have yet to hear, so it is time for me to go back to researching potential agents in The Writers' and Artists' Yearbook in the hope that the right one is sitting patiently, waiting for my email to drop into their inbox. My second book is coming along nicely - roughly half way through writing, although it will be a long time until it is ready to go. With 'Magpie', I edited as I went along, which I now realise was a huge mistake, as I wasted so much time correcting huge sections which ended up in the trash. The original plan to plot it all methodically has fallen by the wayside and I am just letting the words flow out through my fingers. As a result, what started out as a feel good uplit book has morphed into a 1980's mystery. Similarly 'Magpie' began as a story of lost love and ended up as a family saga with a 20th century sociopathic Goldilocks as the protagonist. Sometimes characters just come to life and things happen unexpectedly, and even when I think I am writing a novel which is full of joy and happiness, out of nowhere dark thunderous clouds envelop the sun and it all goes very dark.
But there are some bright clouds on the horizon. Our first grandchild is due in 5 weeks, and on Saturday we are hosting a virtual baby shower on Zoom. This was not the original plan, but needs must. On Saturday morning, Mr C will be delivering parcels containing games and decorations and afternoon tea to the homes of his three brothers, and at 2pm my stepdaughter Li will spend a couple of hours with her sister, aunties and cousins, having a giggle, stuffing their faces and talking all things baby. A celebration of what is to come.
There is another little ray of sunshine who has also been brightening up my week; my great nephew M has been coming to play for a few hours every Monday. He is just two, and a total smasher; full of energy and curiosity and love, the total package. We have been having a lovely time together, and I had forgotten the joy of being with very small children - especially this one who never stops smiling and laughing. The hours fly by and before I know it, it's time for him to go home. Excellent granny practice, although I hope I am not being lulled into a false sense of security by this little boy who is good enough to eat.
Recommendations for Old Ladies Get the flags out and shout hurrah, Bake Off is back. I am loving Matt Lucas, and also liking the effect he has had on Noel Fielding, who is now so much naughtier. There is something so sexy about a man with a smudge of black eyeliner, but don't tell Mr C or he will be raiding my makeup bag. I almost don't mind the temperature dropping and the nights drawing in when I have GBBO to watch. And another discovery I have made recently is the Agatha Raisin audio books on Borrow Box, narrated by Penelope Keith. They are proper easy listening, and funny too, although I remember trying to read one about ten years ago and thinking it was rubbish. Maybe it takes a lady of advancing years to appreciate Agatha Raisin, who is desperately clinging onto her youth, well into her fifties. And while I'm at it, recommending for the older ladies, please listen to the 'Older and Wider' podcasts from Jenny Eclair and Judith Holder https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/older-and-wider-podcast/id1446310659
Listening to these two makes me feel as if I have found my tribe, and that is exactly what I am missing right now. That and cake and biscuits and crisps.
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