Food!

I'm getting worried about Ian. As you can see from this recent photo he slipped to me in between the pages of the Newham Magazine, he is nothing but bone and bone.

I myself however, am of more stoic proportions. Luckily, being 6ft3in my height helps to fuel my denial that I haven't got a fraction podgy over the last couple of years.

Being one never to miss a trick, it has allowed me to dust off some old one liners which I can drop into polite conversation.

"I do watch what I eat. I take a good hard look at it and then stuff it right down."

And "What do you mean; I'm in perfect shape! Round is a shape!"

Lastly (I promise) "It's not a beer belly, it's a fuel tank for my sex machine"

Every Cloud!

Manifestly, in a drive to loose a bit of weight before Canada, I am adapting a few new, so far uncoventional practices. As you may have read in a previous blog, I no longer drink until I've gone blind on everyday with a Y in it. This was considered bad form and so have knocked that on the head. It has been relatively easy to enforce, as long as I stay away from the "Jolly Boys" (you know who you are).

However, I think the hardest part is denying myself food at work. At this time of year when the schools are off, work becomes so dull, that I have bought some eyedrops to perfect the art of sleeping with my eyes open. Eating is inherently entertaining and legisimises a quick break from trying to look busy.

I take a packed lunch to work, but we also have a sandwich lady who comes to the office at 10.30am (crucial time in the morning, breakfast is by now a distant memory). Then to add insult to injury, if you resist that temptation we have a sandwich man turn up half an hour later (bloody psychologists the lot of 'em). If you can resist him as well (he's a charming young man), then I go out for lunch and reward myself with a jumbo sausage roll. No No, Wrong Wrong Wrong! Bad Andy Bad!

For the people who know me who are wondering why this sudden and dramatic change in attitude, the reason is two fold. Firstly, as I am slowly advancing in years, I am starting to become more sensible. "God Forbid!" I hear you cry. Sadly, due to stupid things like going to work, I cannot devote full time to the champagne lifestyle, I so richly crave and frankly deserve.

Secondly, after a period of excess such as a holiday, I have developed a strange sensation that emanates from my brain. Psychologists have diagnosed me with Guilt, and it's ruining my life.

Guilt, has some worrying side affects. It possesses me to go to the gym and undertake that unique form of masochism: SPINNING (see the bottom half of The Fury post). A game of tennis and a circuit class a week tends to keep the guilt at bay.

Therefore, to all the people out there who are battling the bulge, stick with it. I have lost a little bit already and am trying to keep the momentum going. If a friend says "don't eat that sausage roll, have a piece of fruit instead" don't punch their lights out. They are only trying to help. With a little will power and a good sense of humour, we could all look like Ian someday. I know it's his dream!

TTFN.