The BBC diet

Lets get one thing straight, I bloody hate diets but unfortunately they have become a necessary evil to myself and many others.  I can blame my corpulence on many things, some of which genuinely affect my physique and some that are the feeblest of justifications. Indolence, knackered thyroid, love of all things savoury, sedentary occupation and the fact that I live to eat rather than eat to live are just a few of the many excuses I've used over the years. 

Mmmmm...

I've done Slimmers World and Weight Watchers both of whom are laudable organisations that provide support and dietary regimes that work if you are strong enough to stick at it. But like many people I'm a slider. My dedication to the cause of a slimmer-self starts well but fades as the weeks pass and the little treats increase. Two or three months in and the weigh-ins become a chore and the meetings a bind.

And then there's 'cutting back' and self-discipline. Neither of which work for me or many others. Temptation comes in many forms, almost all of which are impossible to resist. True happiness can be found on a Curry restaurant menu and measured by the number of side dishes ordered, no point in going out for a ruby and resisting temptation is there?

So what is the BBC diet? Not sure that I really know to be honest and I have very little idea if it'll be effective. The basic premise is that you don't eat or drink anything (within reason) that begins with the letters B or C. Biscuits, bread, beer and baguettes. Crisps, cakes, chips and cream horns. I would like to point out that according to my research the original spelling is Kurry.

Lovely Jubbly

To go along with this reduction of all things pleasant from my intake I will of course be taking some exercise. The bicycle that I purchased last year has been dusted off and lubricated to within an inch of its life and I have decided that its okay to ride even if he there is no wind and the temperature is not in the mid sixties. The daily dog walk will of course continue and may even be lengthened.

Anyway, there will be no target setting this time. Nothing to aim for besides a slimmer, fitter me that feels a bit better about himself and doesn't automatically head to the XXL section of a clothing store. Doubtless I'll fall off the wagon or get bored with the lack of spicy snacks but I'll give it a try anyway.

Please feel free to leave a comment for me.

The Ladies Walk

When we moved to Andover in September 2006 we had little knowledge of the local area and probably should have done more research than we did. Fortunately we haven't encountered any drawbacks worth mentioning, in fact the move has turned out to be the best thing Sharon and I have done.

Our house is literally 2 minutes casual stroll away from open fields and a public footpath that forms part of the southern boundary of the town. The Ladies Walk was laid out as a recreational walk by the town council in 1785 after the Enclosure Acts of the 18th century took away common lands. 

Bailey

The Walk is a place of great natural beauty with many magnificent trees to admire and views across the town to the north and west taking in Salisbury plain and one of the ridgeways in the distance. Last year I joined the 'Love Where you Live' campaign and now as Bailey and I perambulate around I take a litter picker and a carrier bag and pick up other peoples detritus. Keeping the path and its surrounds free of cans,bottles, crisp packets and whatever else is dropped by those who care not enough is a slight burden when compared to the pleasure I derive from the surroundings.

Looking East

Looking West

Looking North

Most people I meet are complimentary and laud my efforts but I have had one or two strange reactions. A couple of weeks ago a chap walking his dog in the opposite direction said 'Wotcha doing that for mate?'. I explained as I always do that I enjoy The Walk and like to keep it free of rubbish as I go around. 'Bloody 'ell' he replied, 'wastin' your bleedin' time, ain't that what we pay Council Tax for?' and walked off shaking his head. It takes all sorts!

The Iron Bridge

Tomorrow I shall be joining in a scrub clearance event on the southern side of The Walk. Waste land below the treeline is being returned to pasture and Dexter cattle will be grazed there after its been fenced in, still with gates for public access though. I expect to be aching all over by the time its done. 

A Pub on Every Corner?

You support Brentford? Aren't they the team with a pub on every corner of the ground? I wouldn't mind being bought a beer for each time I've been asked that question. Anyway, yesterday I trekked up to West London and after a chinwag and a cup of tea with my Mum I headed off to Griffin Park with my cousins husband Tony, my regular footballing buddy and grumpy old man.

First stop was as usual the Kings Arms...

...for a couple of pints of Fullers London Pride and a Chilli. The Kings Arms is what I like to call a proper pub, there is nothing flashy or pretentious about it, just good beer, decent scran and Sky Sports on the telly. The landlady and her staff are friendly and efficient and if you want to sit quietly in the corner with a pint and the crossword its no problem. Best of all is that its not one of the 'pubs on the corner' so its not frequented by visiting football anoraks who want to boast that they did all four the day they came to Brentford. After the usual pee stops before leaving the pub and upon entering the ground the game beckoned.

And so to the match. Supporting The Bees can often feel like a penance. We do have the occasional moment a few times a season but yesterday was not one of those occasions. Chances were few and far between and although a great deal of huffing and puffing went on it was clear that Brentford were a mid-table team at best and the visitors Walsall would be lucky to finish in the top half. Still, you don't go to Griffin Park expecting to see silky skills and it wasn't the worst 0-0 draw that I've ever had the misfortune to witness. The referee was whistle happy and one of those men in black who want to eradicate any kind of physical contact from the game. Our only real chance to score fell to Clayton Donaldson who was put clean through by a defence splitting pass only to decide that it would be a good idea to stop and wait for some chums and the opposition defence to get back before trying to put the ball into the net.

It was nice to bump into some Bees supporting friends (hello Paul, Andrea & Ella-Bee) plus a few others that I'm on nodding terms with having seen them at home and away games over the years.

Just to show that we do have the aforementioned 'occasional moment' here is a link to a report of one that has a special place in my memory...

The Bees sting the Rams.

Doubtless I'll be returning to Griffin Park a couple more times this season and many more in seasons to come. You don't support a team like Brentford for the glory or the trophies, you do it because it has to be done. Football, beer, food, and mates, what better way is there to spend a freezing cold Saturday afternoon in January? Actually the older I get the more answers I can think of to that question!

Brentford FC & Griffin Park
The Kings Arms, Brentford

Making a Difference

Its the smallest things that make the difference. Last night at work, after pulling into London Waterloo for the second time, an elderly couple that had gotten off my train took the time and trouble to say thank you. I managed a quick 'you're welcome' in reply as they passed by on their way to the exit barriers. Maybe its because they come from from a different generation that they took the time to express their gratitude but it was very much appreciated.

The vast majority of passengers barely acknowledge those around them let alone the train crew. They cocoon themselves in a world of earplugs and mobile phones and shy away from anybody who might intrude in their personal space. Perhaps if they took the time to smile or greet fellow travellers and staff their commute or journey might be that bit better.

We probably communicate more now than we ever did thanks to mobile phones and I imagine more inanity passes through the airwaves than at any time in the history of our planet. I wouldn't mind a pound for every time I've heard someone say into their phone 'I'm on the train' as if its imperative that the wife/husband/lover knows their every movement.

Train driving is a solitary occupation with lengthy periods being spent alone and even the briefest interaction away from the driving cab is welcome. That old couple certainly brightened up my day and I hope the rest of their journey home or to wherever they were going was smooth. 

Photographic Memories

When my Dad was alive he liked to do a bit of photography. Nothing too serious, weddings, holidays and grandchildren; the usual thing that most people do. I've no idea why but for some reason he preferred slides rather than printed photographs and I can remember quite a few wintry Sunday afternoons and evenings when the projector and screen would make an appearance (this was long before Sky TV and games consoles) and his Grandchildren would enjoy seeing their parents and themselves in younger days.

After he died in 1997 my Mum put the slides, projector and screen away and although she purchased one of those hand held viewers I don't think they've seen the light of day too often. Recently she has been trying to offload the slides and paraphernalia onto my sister or myself and before Christmas I gave in and now the slides are sitting on my office floor waiting to be transferred onto CD or DVD.

I've got the feeling that the task is going to be long and arduous but also quite emotional, there are sure to be many long forgotten memories in those boxes. I picked up a cheapish negative/slide scanner from Maplins (my favourite shop) and have made a start in sorting through them. There are many of my first wedding that I'm not entirely sure I want to look at and I'll be running that one past the present Mrs Reed. In total there must be seven to eight hundred of the damn things but this is part of our family archive so it has to be worth doing.

I've already discovered a small box that I had no idea existed. In my late teens I played for a local football team called Lampton Celtic formed of a bunch of schoolmates plus a few others. It would be no exaggeration to say that we were pretty good, winning everything in sight for the three seasons that we played together. Our finest hour was winning the double of Premier Division champions and knockout cup. My Mum reckons I must have seen the pictures before but I can't remember so. The quality of the photography is a bit iffy but its a great reminder of how I was over thirty years ago.

 

Early Days

An interesting Hobbit once said...


'I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve'


...and he may even have been right.

I'm fucked if I know what that means but it seems a decently cryptic way of kicking off 2012 and the blog I've been threatening myself with for a while. Most blogs I've bothered to read seem to be rambling monologues dedicated to the self  and I expect mine will turn out be much the same. Anyway here goes...

New Years Eve went well. Shaz (the wife) managed to drop a newly opened Tesco's dip selection all over the new kitchen floor and cupboards even before she'd had a drink. Then after that had been cleared up Bailey (the dog) threw up on the living room carpet. Not the most exhilarating last evening of the year I've ever had.

The Ladies Walk (link below) is going to need a fair bit of litter picking doing over the coming weeks. I filled a carrier bag full of rubbish very quickly and had to leave loads behind. Nice to see plenty of people out walking and enjoying the fresh air before the rains came this afternoon. 

The coming working week isn't too appealing. Up at 0300 on Tuesday for an 0401 start is the worst possible first day with another four seriously early starts to follow. So it'll be early to bed and very early to rise for me, keeping company with the others who get the country up and running each morning. 

The Ladies Walk