The times they are a changing

My thoughts go out to those affected by the Corona virus at this disturbing and worrying time.

Fortunately I’ve not really been affected. Yet. Because you can’t really count the inability to get a supermarket delivery and visiting a horror store at the weirdest moment in shopping history.

I developed hoarding tendencies long ago, as like many single parents I have experience of being quarantined with small children and the vomit bug. So, no need for me, to do any panic buying. 

I also have a habit of clicking, without checking volume. We go from one solitary banana to three bunches being delivered. And the pantry is full of things the fam can’t bear to eat any more of. But that was then. These times are changing and sweetcorn will soon be making a supper comeback. 

I can’t get a delivery slot so I'll have to do more real shopping, with less choice. I'm praying sweetcorn isn't the only product in the tinned goods aisle. 

Like an awful lot of folk across the globe, I’m practicing social distancing. Number of humans spotted on my morning commute/hike round a muddy field was zero. That was odd. Not even one dog-walker. My lunchtime wander to the allotment, again saw zero humans, so I couldn’t trial the effectiveness of the advice to carry a bamboo cane at all times - to ensure the correct social distance. I could have used the cane to practice baton twirling but sadly only thought of that upon my return home, but it's banked as a mental health save if this goes on too long. 

The whole office is working from home, yet I think I communicated more with the team today than in a regular working day. Group video calls are the new normal. Though seeing colleagues in their own natural habitats left me feeling Attenborough-like. So yeah, these times they are a changing.

Tomorrow I plan to re-balance my 'snacks' to 'steps' ratio. Shouldn’t be too hard as I’ve eaten all the good snacks. 

Sweetcorn anyone?

Shock shock horror horror

Changing the habits of a lifetime appears easier than previously imagined. Or else aliens have stolen the brain of He-who-must-be-adored. It’s not that I have no faith. I just thought the towel would be thrown in on the second night, as per usual. But no, to my shock and horror, He’s taken this weekday-wagon seriously and returned from a ‘do’ last night…sober! Apparently, and this is the real shock shock horror horror: a pint and a half was enough!

I, on the other-hand, think the night-cap is the only way forward. To my delight I no longer have to cope with less fizz as I discover mini-bottles containing under a glass and a half. A perfect night-cap limit surely? Even better still, the tiddly bottles are currently to be found on ‘special’ offer. What more could a girl want?

No longer a smoker. A low-level drinker. I’ve even been going to bed early (and not just in night-cap desperation). It’s the eating to be tackled next: the weekly weigh-in shows a substantial post-fag gain of 19 pounds. I’d rather not buy a whole new wardrobe (even though the wardrobe is the only thing I can comfortably wear right now). And I’d rather not be destined to a life of elasticated waist-bands. Drastic times and all that leads me to conclude that I need to create an ‘energy gap’. Shock Horror: I really need to move my butt more. Gave myself a severe talking to, plugged into Paul McKenna for a brain retrain (aka lie down) and came up with a new regime brimming with positivity.

Although a journey begins with one small step and all that jazz, I just don't think you can go straight out and shake it all about. I got myself a plan. And obviously the plan demands proper equipment. I know I have previously owned at least 3 pedometers (I come from a long-line of gadget lovers). But He-who-must-be-adored is sometimes left alone in the house. When alone he either tidies (his stuff) or dumps (everyone else’s stuff).

A new pedometer was needed before I could start: I must have taken at least 2000 steps before I found one. I’ll keep the price to myself just in case He-who-must-be-adored ever reads this…these are, after all, strange and unusual financial times (we are still broke). But, oh, have I got a whiz-banger of a piece of kit. Now I really can back up my bragging with numbers: ordinary steps, aerobic steps, kilometers marched, and weirdly calories consumed. I presume this is piss-poor translation as how can such a small device be so clever as to know what I’ve consumed? Really really hoping it means calories burnt as today’s ‘consumed’ level doesn’t cover my pre-breakfast snack. Anyways, as I’ve invested so heavily I feel obliged to ensure cost per use ratio pays off. So now I march about like a madman, sometimes dragging the dog to keep up my ‘healthy heart’ target.

Yesterday I broke through the healthy heart barrier and achieved the aerobic fitness target, almost making it to the ‘energy gap’ level (despite niether myself nor the little electro-sucker knowing whether I stuck to the recommended daily intake). But, even in my ever-the-optimist mode I can’t see that one day counts for much. So, this morning, instead of sitting sipping coffee my forensic friend and I marched. Am hoping if I keep this up my not-insubstantial chest will, once again, stick out further than my belly. Just like we know it should.

For added calorie consummation I’ve worn the old tigger-type MBT shoes. As they say, every little helps!