This weighing oneself business is a bit rubbish. I did, the other day, and seemed to have put on a couple of pounds. This was nonsense of course, and I took little notice of it. I weighed myself again this morning and seemed to have lost three pounds - this all from the starting weight, not from the other day's. But if the last one was absurd then this has to be too. I think I'll stick, in future, to my original decision, which was not to weigh myself at all and just meekly trot along to the doctor every few months and get a nasty surprise there.
I'm still being absolutely well-behaved in regard to food, but the wine-drinking has crept up to normal levels. And I'm still cycling every day unless the weather is impossibly foul or I'm out too much. It rains every day, but not all day - though it's bloody cold. This describes December weather, I suppose.
What I miss is running everywhere. I don't mean going for a run, like wot Badgerdaddy does. Just that I have never walked because going slow is a bit boring. I run - ran, I'll have to say - upstairs, down to the greenhouse, along the road - maybe only 20 yards or a couple of hundred at most, but it's had to stop. Even if I forget and start, my leg hurts after a few yards and keeps hurting way after I stop. This doesn't matter in itself as my leg hurting is normal and doesn't mean anything. But after those few yards I run with a strange lolloping gait like Quasimodo being summoned by bells and I am an object of ridicule even to myself.
I was about to go out on my bike, but it's suddenly pissing down. Just as well I paused for a moan.