All of a sudden it was a bank holiday Monday (yes, foreign friends, I know the name doesn’t make sense) and here I am with a head full of words and nonsense. Time to verbally vomit over your shiny new shoes.

Usually, a reappearance like this is driven by an amazing happenstance in a normally dull week but to be honest (love that phrase), I just felt like it. I spent the last month or so doing a little naval gazing and pondering. Nothing earth shattering has emerged from the meditation and self-indulgence but I still live in hope. I am not sleeping very well at the moment but I have no idea why. Work is busy but no more so than at any time over the last year or so, so I am pretty sure it ain’t that.

Am I on the verge of a mid-life crisis? Those of you who see a lot of me might wonder if I am already having it and lately, I can see what  you mean. I have no great secret personal life hidden from all of you. What you see me doing is pretty much what there is.

Ardent Slimming World junkies such as myself don’t get Bank Holiday’s off, so today I was there bright and early. Very early as it happens. Not as much traffic on the roads at 9am as usual you see. Had I half a ounce of common sense, I would have realised this and hence avoided the need to run round the house like my trousers were on fire 30 seconds after the alarm went off this morning. It was worth the trip though, I lost 3½ pounds which is very cool. Slightly less cool when you discover that I put 3 on last week. If only I could determine what I did this week that I didn’t do last week and vice-versa. Sadly, if it were that simple, I could make a fortune and I would be already wearing the 34 inch waist jeans hanging like a mocking denim bat in my wardrobe. There are now 5 of us from work at my group which adds to the fun. Laughing at other people might be wrong but its a great way to start the week. Before you go and call me (us) cruel, rest assured that sometimes it goes both ways. This week, I was first in line when we “went round the room to see how everyone got on”. The nice consultant lady tells everyone how well we did (they never say how much we put on) and we have to talk about our week. Normally the words come easily and I have taken to using 3 or 4 stock speeches that seem to keep everyone happy. This week, I was caught off-guard and wittered on like an idiot long past the point of polite embarrassment. The usual round of applause that follows each speech re-defined the term “smattering”.

So it wasn’t my weight…

The diabetes is ok. I have one of my 6 monthly M.O.T. checkups any week now. I feel ok. I always know when things are going a bit wonky because I either feel really tired, need to drink or need to pee. None of these really happens at all at the moment. I have virtually no thirst reflex anymore. Drinking fluids of any sort is either a habit (coffee at work) or something I have to remember to do. I know my inner bits need fluid, so I am not letting myself get into stupid bad habits, it’s just not a situation I ever expected to find myself in. During the time before I was diagnosed, I was drinking about 5 litres of water/squash/coke every day and peeing out about the same amount. How I ever got anything done is anyone’s guess.

So not that then…

My friend Hayley is leaving work this week. This sucks big time but for me not her. It is totally the right thing for her to do but it doesn’t make the fact that she won’t be at work anymore any less sucky. For the last 4 or 5 years ago she has been one of only a very few people I can trust with anything and one of only two who took the time to see how I was every day. We nearly always had lunch together, she mostly laughed at my purile yet sophisticated humour and without her I would have never gone to Slimming World. She was and is also blonde, pretty and in her early 20′s which never does my ego any harm. I may be her friend but I am also male and 40. It would be poetic, poignant and full of pathos to end with the phrase “I wish I had told her all that to her face” but I will have to disappoint you all. I think I tell her about once a month. The last time, she told me to stop being an arse. I will probably tell her again on Friday night whilst drunk and leaning on the bar in C103.

C103 is a night club. The first time in 20 years that I have ever been in one.

There will probably be photos. Photos I will apologise for in advance.

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