Healthy Achievements

The health kick has stalled again but I think I’ve figured out why. I need a goal. I need an achievement. In the past I’ve managed to tackle a 10KM run, and a 47 mile cycle ride from Glasgow to Edinburgh and, more recently, I took part in a local 5KM event. All of them gave me a target, a goal, a reason to do some training. This is not news to me, I know I need a challenge to push me to exercise. After that I know that the healthier eating falls into place and after a couple of weeks I start to change my approach and attitude to being healthy, I’ll take more care of what I eat, …

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Hardest button to button

I have a broken button. The 4th down on the shirt I’m wearing is broken, cracked in two, with each piece remaining attached by the merest of threads. When I get home I’ll unpick the spare button attached to the label, remove the broken button and sew on the spare button. Yes, I can sew. Well at least enough to put a button on a shirt. Hang on, that’s not right! What I meant to say was that, when I get home, I’ll take the shirt off and chuck it in the bin. I’ll buy a new one at the weekend, maybe two, and a new jacket, maybe even a pair of shoes. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. It’s what …

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Do children still play in the street?

Excuse this burst of nostalgia, but whilst tidying up this weekend I happened across some old school diaries and various notes and letters to my Mum, scrawled in my own fine hand aged between 7 and 10 or 11 (roughly). One thing that struck me was just how much I used to do when I was younger. Excluding the piano lessons and practice, the Boys Brigade and visits to see my Gran I used do a lot. Memories came flooding back, times of mammoth Monopoly games that would span weeks at a time, bombing round the street on my bike, playing tag with a spud gun, and that one where you tied some poor sod to a lamppost and everyone …

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The Best Man

In a rather lovely turn of events… ohh god, “rather lovely”, I can’t say that… in fact I’m not sure what I want to say about what it is that I want to say something about, bear with me. The basic facts are thus; my good friend Stuart is getting hitched, he phoned me last week and asked me to be his best man. Simple enough. It’s going to be a small and informal affair, with close friends and family only on the day itself (a Friday), and a larger reception on the Sunday evening. I’m truly honoured to be asked, as I’ve known Stuart for .. blimey.. 17 years. We met at Hospital Radio Lennox, as we were both …

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10 kilometres

A little over 6 miles, and the last in the series of Polariod 10K races. It was this time last year that I started jogging, but one thing I’ve never mentioned is who spurred me into action. It was someone I bumped into at the end of last year’s race and if I seem him today I will be shaking him by the hand to thank him. I have contemplated a quick kick to the shins at the same time but I’m past that. Almost. This time last year, as we turned up to visit the Farmers Market at Lomond Shores we realised that it was also the finish for 10K race. As we walked past the finishing area I …

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Where There's a Will

After posting about my lack of willpower of the weekend, and receiving some useful and thought provoking comments (thanks!), I think I need to step back and see what else could possibly be the problem. Or, indeed, if there is a problem at all. I started jogging last summer, the inspiration for which came about at the end of a 10K race near where I grew up. We happened to turn up at Lomond Shores last June, only to find that it was the finishing line for the Polaroid Balloch 10K which was being marshalled by some local groups, one of which was the Boys Brigade. I bumped into one of the officers that I knew and got chatting in …

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Tick Tock

Well I guess I’d better come clean. The clocks changed on Sunday morning, and we lost an hour because “Spring forward, Fall back”. This is despite the fact that we don’t have “Fall”, we have autumn and the usage of the phrase also ignores the fact that our American brethren changed their clocks a couple of weeks back. Still, mustn’t complain as the nights are now lighter, and much more prone to floating away on the breeze. From memory I can only recall one time when I missed the changing of the clocks, and thinking about it… yes I’m pretty sure it was my parents fault. There I was, in full Boys Brigade uniform, standing at the Rialto car park …

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Hic!

Parents look away now. (bet they don’t) Meg admits to ‘learning about alcohol‘ when she was in her teens, and I thought it about time that I come clean as well. My first illicit experience with alcohol — other than a shandy or two with my parents agreement — was at the tender age of 15. I was helping out at a Boys Brigade dance, looking after the cloakroom with two other boys, Scott and David. Now Scott was one of those boys who just seemed older and more mature than everyone. He smoked, he swore, he was pretty popular at the time. That night, as we sat in a tiny room cloakroom completely bored out of our minds, he …

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Hospital Radio

(I’ve been meaning to jot down some ‘history’ so here is the first in an occasional series, occasional as in ‘when-I-remember’) When I was sixteen, it was a very good year… I joined the Boys Brigade in primary school. When I asked why I was greeted with the kind of biblical testament kids soon learn to avoid: “Why? For once, many mooneth ago, your father’s father was the captain of a great clan of brigaders, he serveth his time, and begat your father. And lo, your father too was press-ganged welcomed into the brigade. He, and his father before him, suffered greatly for the freedom you have today, the freedom to choose to join such a venerable organisation.” In other …

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