An Early Resolution

Bad day, in all Disappearing probability - our Works Chistmas Lunch. Had soup and bread, followed by tomato garlic bread, followed by pizza: seriously, could I be more Carbolicious?

On the other hand, that's one meal in a week, and probably, given the rotund stuffitude of my bad self right now, probably the only meal of the day, so look at me, not stressing. Of course it probably helps that the scales are dead, and so can no longer call after me like schoolyard tattle-tales.

On the upside, finished almost everything I have to do in work before Christmas now, so the lunch was pretty much like that moment at school where they made you do maths problems, and triple underline your final answer. Work done. Pack now. Then bring on the sweet, sweet sparkly Welshness of Christmas.

Not that work is really done of course. Work doesn't finish till the 23rd for me. And there's still plenty to do - preparing, negotiating, signing contracts probably, all that stuff. But on a list of Stuff To Do, the latest issue of my magazine can now be struck through as Done.

Tomorrow, d and I are both at home, working like Snow White's woodland drudges to make sure that at Fuck-Off-o'clock on Sunday morning, when the big burly Welsh blokes come to steal away my wife and pretty much all our remaining Stuff in the world, we're not caught in another West End Farce scene of endless running around and costumes and chaos.

Oh, note for the vampire lovers by the way - blood was just 4.3 this morning - and this is without any of my previously-normal morning walking. Interesting in a geeky kind of way - wonder what it'd be if I'd done the walking. Really kinda missing the walking. Again, I guess, once d goes on to prep the new flat on Sunday, it's gonna be a weird, fairly desolate sort of freedom - like a sort of rolling back of time, as I get one week to pretty much say farewell to my city. The bike will be going with d, but there's nothing (y'know, save all the usual blistery schtick!) to stop me getting back to a walking regime. Think I need a bit of that, a bit of the walking, cos it almost feels like my blood's turning to nougat again (though clearly it isn't - 4.3, did I mention?) the longer I do precisely buggerall in the way of the exercise I was really getting used to. And while of course everything changes when we get to Wales, it'll be nice to get a bit of zingy, oxygenated early morning blood in my veins on the run-up to Christmas. And hopefully, with a system that's been lulled into a fairly true sense of security by doing buggerall, if I can hit it with some unexpected exercise before going Home, it'll jump-start the weightloss again. It would be mad - I mean really, truly, delusionally mad - to hope to hit the five stone barrier before Christmas.

So naturally, that's what I'm hoping for. We've had more of a Christmas present this year than either of us really knows how to express...but that doesn't stop me wishing for more, and if I could choose just one thing, I think that'd be it. One more half-stone, perhaps not by Christmas, but by the end of 2011. That's just sixteen days, and I've had pizza on one of them, so it's fair to say nobody's holding their breath. Still - nothing wrong with an early Resolution...right?