Did you get any of the late allocation?

The fiasco that is Olympic ticketing continues. And for once, it is no fault of Locog, who have simply been abiding by an agreement signed seven years ago that a certain proportion of tickets had ot be set aside for the 'Olympic Family' which basically means the professional bodies across the world which support and foster sports.

The same thing apparently happened in Beijing, but with China still being the closed country that it is we knew very little about it. It is an absolute outrage that these organisations get such a large allocation and then waste it when there are so many ordinary people that want to support the games and spend their hard earned money in doing so.

The late release of tickets for some high profile and prestige events such as the athletics has, of course, made many Londoners and locals very pleased; they have been able to buy access to key events which they desperately wanted to see and for which they had been previously unsuccessful.

And of course it is better for athletes of all countries to have full stadia watching and cheering them on. It is immeasurably better for the Olympic Authority to promote the venues and gain the desired levels of income to bolster the economy. In addition, full stadia mean more people spending money in shops, restaurants, bars and on public transport.

I was not myself interested in going to anything, I just don't like sport enough, but I know many people who were and are now delighted. Good luck to them, and i hope it didn't cost them an arm and a leg.

The IOC really needs to address this issue before the next games in 2016. A far smaller proportion of tickets should be set aside and if the Olympic Family organisations want more then they should have to bid for them like anyone else. That way lies fairness, transparency and good PR. Let's hope that the lessons of the ticketing problems here (including use of Visa only even on the Olympic site, venues that are too large for the expected crowds, unfair allocations to large organisations and sponsors etc) are learned for 2016 and rectified.

Sadly, I suspect money will talk and the situation will not be a great deal better. At least it won't be our economy and image that suffers, and probably it won't affect us hugely in terms of the number of people that can attend since South America is so far away. But nevertheless, it is just plain wrong, and totally not in the spirit of the Olympics and their wider aim of making sport more accessible to the masses.

Are you listening Mr Chairman of the IOC Jacques Rogge or whatever your name is? I doubt it.

Ring, ring, jingle, jingle.

I see from the newspaper that as from this coming weekend, Virgin Airlines are to allow passengers to use their mobile phones on board, once airborne. Where Virgin goes, others will follow.

Noooooo! On a plane is one of the few places you can get away from the incessant ring and irritating tunes of the ubiquitous mobile these days, one of the few places where you can be guaranteed a relative degree of peace and quiet.

The news has had a mixed reception. Those that are overwhelmingly positive seem to be what in the eighties would have been called yuppies, and seem to be predominantly media types who are welded to their mobiles just in case someone important wants to get hold of them because, as we all know, they are indispensible. The less overjoyed are on the whole older, wiser and family types for whom going on a plane means a welcome break from the tedium and constant contactability of life today.

Personally, I can't wait to get away from the 'phone, the telly and the newspapers. I find the media unrelentingly depressing these days, full of complaining and bad news. And the telephone is the most intrusive instrument ever devised by man and for all its benefits, has some significant downsides.

I don't understand those who feel they must answer their phone at all costs and that the world will end if they don't. If someone walked in while you were having a conversation with a third party or having your dinner with friends and interrupted you and demanded that you respond to them immediately, you would think them terribly rude. But you will still answer a ringing phone in such a situation; why? What's the difference? If you are out of contact for a few hours because you are travelling there is very little that is so urgent it cannot wait; as recently as 20 years ago it would have had to, since it is within that relatively short length of time that mobiles have become prevalent.

So far as I can see, allowing people to use their phones on board a plane is totally unnecessary and in terms of customer satisfaction a backward step. It will disrupt other passengers that wish to be quiet or to sleep, will remove the pleasure of travelling and will increase yet again the amount of time that the world can intrude and further pressurise us. Unless they are thinking of segregating the plane and having a 'quiet zone' and possibly only allowing outgoing calls and not incoming, it will make me think twice about flying with Virgin again. Which would be a shame, because on the one time I have done so, it was a very pleasant experience.

Coco has arrived!

Well, the puppy has arrived. After having been an exclusively feline household for many years, we have a chocolate labrador retriever. Called Coco.

This little brown bundle of feet and belly has come into the house and totally taken over. We have had to create a 'den' by fencing off part of the lounge, acquire masses of equipment I simply had no idea about and enrolled her in the local vet's puppy club for her vaccinations, microchipping and eventually, to be speyed.

I had no idea that puppies poo'd so much! At just shy of eight weeks old, she isn't yet house trained. She has a designated place within her den where she is supposed to do anything she needs to do, and sometimes she does. We try and take her out into the garden when she has eaten, had a sleep, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. She has treats when she performs appropriately, but so far she is having trouble getting the hang of it (particularly with where she should have a wee) and it is very difficult to identify the  signs that she needs to go. Apparently puppies do go frequently and when they are very small, as she is, they don't have any bladder control at all and when they need to go, they need to go NOW. So you don't get much warning to clip on the lead and take her out back. We have had several accidents, and I haven't cleared up so much poo in years.

It really is just like having a new baby and having to teach it the basics. I always hated potty training then, too. I suspect it will be several weeks before she really gets her head round it and by then, I will be questioning my decision to get her.

Sunday night was her first night away from her mum and siblings (there were seven in the litter) and she cried all night. We gave her a hot water bottle and a towel which we had rubbed all over her mum's back so she had a familiar smell close to her, and a ticking clock which sounded like a heart beat, but it didn't make any difference. She really does have a very piercing whine, punctuated by little high pitched barks. I sleep wearing ear plugs, so I wasn't too bothered, but The Hubby tells me she started at about 11.30pm and continued until he got up in the morning, starting up again when he went out for work. I bet the neighbours loved that, but at least it gets them back for all the times they have woken us up by yelling at each other all the time or when their own dog used to cry outside the house all day while they were out at work and had locked him in the garden.

The vet has suggested that we leave the radio on low as sometimes that can soothe a lonely puppy, so we'll try that tonight. I wonder if she is a Radio Four or Radio Two girl? But what I will not do is bring her upstairs with me; she has to learn that she is not the leader of the pack and cannot go where she wants just because she makes a fuss. Of course I don't want her to be distressed, but rules have to be established from the beginning. Similarly, she will not be allowed on the chairs.

Today, she has been to the vet and had her first vaccinations, been microchipped and had a worming tablet. I have flea treatments to give her in the next few days, and she has to go back in two weeks time for her second jabs. It's all go!

I have a feeling that my life will be significantly different from now on. Coco will dictate our timetable and lifestyle if we let her, although while she is a baby it is very difficult to do anything which doesn't allow us to meet her needs. She will help get us fitter by having to be walked, and most likely, once we get over the first few weeks, bring us an amazing amount of joy.

I'll let you know.

Did you see her Madjesty?

I saw a picture in the freebie Metro newspaper the other day of Madonna at her Hyde Park gig, which took place last week.

She was dressed in tight leather trousers, a biker jacket, sported garish makeup and was brandishing a silver revolver. Madge is 54; she looked ridiculous.

I suppose at least she was decently covered up, which is more than can be said about some of her costumes over the years, but there is something terribly sad about her desperation to prove that she is still ‘cool’ and ‘hip’ and her desire to shock.

I have been a Madonna fan in the past. Some of her music was edgy and different but in many cases it was good old fashioned pop. You could dance to it, remember the tune of quite a lot of it and it doesn’t have that awful thumping bass of so much music these days, which quite simply gives me a headache. But there is a time to call it a day, and for her I suspect it may be fast approaching.

Of course there are lots of aging pop stars and rockers still going strong, most of them male. The Rolling Stones, Rod Stewart, Paul McCartney and Elton John all spring to mind without even thinking too hard, and they are all growing old with varying degrees of success in trying to stay at the top of their game.

The dangers of going on too long were glaringly highlighted by the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee concert, which featured quite a lot of these ol’ timers. Whilst some of it worked well, much of it was plainly embarrassing. I have always been a big Elton fan, and I think he can still put on a good show and get his crowd rocking and Tom Jones can still pull it off, too. But I thought Stevie Wonder, Annie Lennox, Grace Jones and worst of all Paul McCartney were frankly past it and ought to give up while they are ahead. Their voices were cracked and strained, they looked tired and there was no sparkle.

The trouble with Madge is she refuses to grow old gracefully. She has always liked to shock, and her songs and stage sets over the years have offended almost every religious group on the planet. She dresses like her daughter, Lourdes, but unfortunately no amount of time spent in the gym, no odd macrobiotic diets, the steeliest determination  and not even the most wonderful stylist (as if she would listen to one) can disguise the fact that you simply aren’t eighteen any more. I’m sure she is still a wonderful performer (she has that special something called ‘presence’) and if she didn’t try to do new material she would probably go completely crazy, but really, is there any need to pretend so hard that you are young, on the edge and out there? The answer, most definitely, is no.  

Most of those that attended Hyde Park and reduced it to a sea of mud won’t much care about any of this because they will have been royally entertained by someone who loves the limelight and knows how to put on a show. They will have drunk expensive lager or nasty lukewarm white wine and got near food poisoning from the less than average quality scrotum-burgers on sale from the numerous catering vans trying to make the best of a bad summer. They will have disrupted the neighbours and crowded onto the late night trains in good humoured but boisterous moods to go home. And had a good time.

But that doesn’t take away the fact that most of these oldies now ought to look at hanging up their guitar and their microphone. When your talent won’t see you through, or you have to resort to shock tactics, nudity or something equally distasteful, or your voice or your body lets you down, it’s time to go. Before it’s too late.

Woof, woof!

For the first time ever, we are about to become dog owners.

A cute little puppy dog called Coco will be joining us on Sunday 22^nd July. She is a chocolate Labrador Retriever, and is part of the de-stressing and keep fit plan to ensure I reach my retirement years.

I’m not sure what the cats will think of her, having always lived in a canine free environment. Fortunately, Coco will not be phased by the cats as there are a few where she was born, which is a sort of stables cum farm cum shack in Hurst Green. But the moggies have had ten or more years of exclusively feline pampering and attention, and their noses may well and truly be put out of joint. I’m sure they’ll get over it, especially when the weather turns nasty and they want to be indoors next to the radiator.  

It has taken weeks of debate and heart searching before making the decision to get a puppy. Can we afford it? Are we at home enough? Will we walk it enough to stop it getting fat? Will we manage to teach it to be well behaved? Should we get a small dog which could fit in and out of a large cat flap and so have a bit of freedom during the day? All these questions and more have been debated ad nauseam and in the end we just decided to go for it (well, I did, and took the option of just going to see the litter and then telling The Hubby what was happening – it’s OK, he’s used to it!).

I must confess to being slightly apprehensive about it all. I have always been a bit of a couch potato and whilst The Hubby will take his turn at the walks (especially, I hope, at 6.30 in the morning) by and large it will be me doing quite a lot of it due to the number of hours he works. But in a way that’s a good thing, as it will force me to walk instead of slouch in front of the telly; there’s no way I want a barrel shaped dog and I need to get a bit fitter and lose more weight.

Coco is a cute little thing, and although I know she won’t stay a small, fluffy wriggling bundle of feet and belly for long she will still be a very pretty dog. And Labradors are such good family pets I’m sure she will fit in with the cats, grandchildren and our fairly hectic lifestyle. She will come to rehearsals, come shopping and go out with us at the weekends.

I am, of course, going into retail mode for said new pooch, and purchases have so far included a pale blue soft leather and diamante collar and a glittery puppy harness. She will look like a right woos walking down the street in them, but as she won’t know anything about that I don’t care – I like them! It is incredible how much stuff you can buy for puppies and dogs, some of it stuff I never dreamed I’d want or knew existed. Beds, fancy leads, vitamins, grooming tools and treats are just the tip of the ice berg. And the multitude of choice for food is quite overwhelming.

Coco joins us on 22^nd, and I can’t wait. She will be spoiled rotten by all of us, although the toilet training may tax our patience for a while and I’m sure she will cry at night. All the best puppy books tell you to ignore the crying, but if you see me with shadows under my eyes and a haggard look for a few weeks you will know why!

Aches and pains!

Aches and pains!

We all get them, and as we get old they seem to get more severe and more frequent.

Regular readers will know that I have suffered from a prolapsed disk in my lumbar spine for about three years now. I have no idea what caused it, and I suspect it is linked to an old injury I got in my twenties starting a pull start lawn mower. I have had three lots of steroid injections directly into the disk and the spinal column to try and treat it, to no avail. Back in February I had laser treatment, which basically kills the trapped nerve endings where the disk has collapsed and therefore kills the pain. It has been pretty effective, but whether it lasts long term is anyone’s guess.

I have also, in the past year, had an arthroscopy on both my knees, where the cartilage was shot to pieces. It has obviously been deteriorating for some time, exacerbated by a fall two years ago catching a stray dog in the garden. They both still ache when it rains or it is cold, and I am stiff as a board when I get out of bed in the morning, which takes about ten minutes to wear off.

You will also know that I have bizarrely developed tennis elbow in my right arm, no doubt due to all the computer work and typing I do. With an ambition to do freelance writing, that isn’t going to get better any time soon. All these problems with joints and cartilage are now worrying me that I will develop arthritis when I get even more decrepit than I am at the moment.

The latest thing, as I blogged the other day, is my blood pressure which is now sky high as are my cholesterol levels. Honestly, if I make retirement at all it will be a miracle.

The Hubby is now complaining about back pain, which he first experienced when we were on holiday. A small, easy movement one day turned him into a cripple with pain shooting up his spine into his neck. I gave him a couple of my Tramadol and some Ibuprofen which he took and which helped, and after a day or so the pain wore off, but it has returned and he now needs to go and see the doc.

I blame my hormones for most of my daily aches, but I don’t know what his excuse is. Men do have a menopause, don’t they? No doubt weight and fitness could improve and that would help us overcome some of it, but not all.

We will just have to focus on ourselves for a change, and not spend all our time running around after other people. How many time shave we said that we need to diet, get fit and try to have a healthier lifestyle with more relaxed weekends and down time?  More than I can count, and so far we haven’t achieved it. Having both a last found a partner that we do want to spend the rest of our lives with, it would be nice if that life was long and healthy.

Oh, hello Doctor Williams……

Isn’t it hard not to spend money?

Due to the general economic situation (ie no pay rise for three years and continually increasing bills) we are trying to have an economy drive. With varying degrees of success for a whole variety of reasons.

The Hubby is struggling due to the simple fact that he has two teenage boys both of whom have cars and that is expensive. Not only contributing towards the cost of the vehicle itself and its upkeep, but the insurance for teenage boys is astronomic. Even the most competitive quote for the youngest, who is just about to take his test, was just over £2,000 for a year and that was for an 04 reg Renault Clio and under the condition he has a special box of electronic tricks fitted to his engine to monitor his driving. Many of his friends are paying much more.

Like everyone, we are also paying more into our pensions to try and ensure a decent standard of living in our old age. They say that more and more people are opting out of pension schemes as they become more costly and the returns less attractive, which is surely just storing up problems for the future.

But by and large, it’s just the general household bills which are racking up at an alarming rate. I went supermarket shopping the other day and admittedly bought for a dinner party (which therefore included wine and various items which wouldn’t usually be in my trolley) as well as the usual weekly shop, and it was one of those weeks where toiletries and detergents etc had all run out at once, but the bill came to almost £200. I nearly fell over at the checkout! I have long given up being surprised at the cost of filling up the car, and as for going out anywhere – well it has to be strictly limited and even then it’s a Wetherspoon’s curry instead of the nice Italian restaurant just down the road.

And we are both in employment and relatively well paid (yes, you do have outgoings to match your salary and between us three divorces and several house moves haven’t helped, but you know what I mean). God knows how those on low incomes or out of work are managing (although a lot of them are still in Wetherspoon’s, I notice, either drinking all evening or fagging it outside).

We are busy people, and we try to do something each weekend where we can spend some time together that isn’t doing chores. Often that is going to Café Nero for coffee, or sometimes a walk round a National Trust property, a trip to Brighton or a Craft Fair. But everything, yes everything, is so expensive. A couple of coffees and cakes in Nero’s can cost over a tenner, tea at a NT café can be £5 or £6, parking alone in Brighton costs about £12 for the day and entrance fees to a craft fair are about £5 each even without a spot of lunch or a drink.  It’s no wonder people are staying at home, but I believe that if you work hard you cannot totally do without any social relaxation or you will go mad.

One side benefit of doing a totally catered for diet is that I am no longer spending any money during the week. I now avoid buying take-out coffee as on the shop counter are the temptations of bacon butties, brownies or croissants. When in WH Smith I walk straight past the crisps and chocolate (oh, how I am missing chocolate) to buy my magazine or Radio Times. I don’t need to go into the supermarket for sandwiches or salads and in so doing pick up Greek yoghurt or cake. I don’t impulse buy my dinner on the way home just because I don’t fancy what is in the fridge or freezer. So hopefully not only am I losing copious amounts of weight through this abstinence, but I am saving my money too.

I am determined that by the time I am 55, I will be debt free (apart from my mortgage) and be able to take up the option to stop work. It’ll be hard, and I won’t enjoy it. And the more the bills go up the harder it will be. The pipe dreams of the lottery or becoming a well paid author are just that, pipe dreams, so I’ll have to knuckle down and get on with it. Regardless of the economy. For my sanity, I must!

Anyone for tennis!

Poor old Andy Murray!

With the weight of the nation's expectations on his shoulders, he just couldn't do it. Maybe next time.

It was a valiant effort, of course, against a seasoned professional out for a record win who had nothing to lose. Federer is professionalism personified, from the follicles on his head down to his toenails, and in the end it was he who held his nerve under pressure and triumphed.

But it is Andy's touching conduct when interviewed courtside by Sue Barker for the BBC  just after his defeat which will endear him to the British public far more than his conduct on the court no matter how successful he is. For the first time, we saw the man underneath the mask and he is a much nicer chap than any of us could have guessed. He has always been a rather unsympathetic character in front of the media, appearing stilted, uncommunicative and unfriendly. Yesterday, we saw a softer side which is much more attractive.

Us Brits do love a valiant loser - look at Dunkirk and the numerous military defeats which we celebrate as though they were victories. Perhaps that's why we don't appear to have that killer instinct to take us to the top in so many sports and circumstances; we think there is no shame in not winning as long as you have done your best. Foreigners don't understand that; they think the only place to be is the top spot and if you don't achieve it, you should go away and lick your wounds ready to try another day. And to a certain extent I agree.

But there is nothing like adopting an underdog to cheer on, and Andy certainly was the underdog yesterday. God knows we need something to cheer about at the moment. The fact that he took the first set gave us vicarious hope that for once this might be our year, what with it being Diamond Jubilee and all that, but it wasn't to be. Even Kate shipped up to watch for the second time, freeloading sister alongside. Never mind, there's always 2013 which is the real diamond jubilee, since old Liz wasn't actually crowned Queen until summer 1953.

Andy Murray should be proud of what he achieved yesterday and take a lesson from his emotions afterwards that what will make the public love him more is to appear, well, just more human. No one loves a robot or an automaton; they are cold emotionless things which give nothing but take everything. If he gives a little more to the crowds that turn out to support him and whom he obviously appreciates, then they will give even more back to him.

TomKat! Who would have thought it?

So TomKat (for those of you that don’t read Hello! or OK, that is Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes) are to divorce. For Tom it’s his third failure, for her only the first!

It has been, of course, only a matter of time, because Mr Cruise is a peculiar chap to say the least. From his marriage to his first fairly unknown wife Mimi Rogers through the time with Nicole Kidman when they were famously unable to have children and very publicly adopted two (they have both had children since, apparently naturally and without any intervention, which seems a bit of an omen, don’t you think?) to his baptism into the Church of Scientology and the jumping up and down on Oprah’s sofa, Tom has been strange for quite a while. Nevertheless, he is the highest paid actor in Hollywood. Unbelievable, but there you are.

Ms Holmes is not a lot better by some accounts, but at least she doesn’t appear to have been converted to the batty ‘religion’ her hubby follows. And if the rumour mill is to be believed, it was Tom’s wish to send their small daughter, Suri, on a cruise with a load of other Scientologists to indoctrinate her in the beliefs that has forced Katie’s hand. I don’t know a great deal about Scientology, but I gather that Scientologist parents send their children as young as five on these cruises, alone and without any of the sort of the pastoral care with which they are familiar, to drum into their malleable and accepting brains the very odd beliefs they follow. That, in my view, is almost child abuse. Most definitely it is mental manipulation of vulnerable minors, and should not be allowed.

If the rumours are true and it all goes terribly wrong for him, this could be the end of Tom Cruise as a major megastar, which he undoubtedly is at the moment. Certainly it will fuel the gossip columns for months. If the rumours about the more malign aspects of the Scientology influences are proven, he will be dropped by Hollywood quicker than you can say Mission Impossible. Offences with drink, drugs or even unfortunate sexual encounters can be quickly forgotten and forgiven in Tinseltown, but peculiar religious beliefs, racism and mistreatment of children remain big taboos, and rightly so.

Katie, on the other hand, could well see her star in the ascendant, being painted at the moment as the caring mother and wounded party. She is still young, pretty, admittedly with only moderate talent but is extremely shrewd and Daddy is a divorce lawyer. There is no information in the gossip columns about whether she signed a pre-nup, with differing gossip being propounded as fact, but whatever she did six years ago when they married she will now do well out of this. If nothing else she could sell her and Suri’s clothing hordes, the value of which runs into millions.

Katie once was quoted as saying that as a child, she had a poster of Cruise on her bedroom wall and vowed one day that she would marry him. That is the sort of girlish infatuation that many teenagers have (I had a poster of David Cassidy on my wall, and was determined for a while to be Mrs Cassidy) but most of us grow out of it and realise that really that is rather silly ambition and actually, all things considered, John next door is a better bet. The fact that she followed through on her girlish aims and realised her prize shows a steely determination and possibly a slightly immature view of the world which could be a deadly combination when it comes to haggling over a multi million pound divorce settlement and child custody. Apparently Tom paid Nicole Kidman, who hadn’t signed a pre-nup with him, $340 million and he will no doubt be anxious not to have to write out a similar cheque this time. And Katie has moved to New York where she thinks she will get a better deal.

It is always sad when a marriage ends, particularly when there are children, but sometimes it is for the best and it would appear that this may be one of those occasions. Only time will tell of course, and it may be that Ms Holmes is a clever media manipulator and that she is the bad cop all the time, but I doubt it is that simple. Most probably, there are faults on either side; after all Katie knew about her husband’s beliefs when she married him so why, you might ask, start carping now?

Whatever happens, I will be as curious as anyone. There is something very satisfying about being a voyeur into the lives of the rich and famous, particularly when it is all going tits up, which somehow makes us feel better about our own mundane existence and we know that under all the glitz, they are just like us. Just with more money and the time to indulge in slightly odder habits. Watch this space!

Life stinks.....

Definitely the post holiday blues are well and truly bedded in.

Quite frankly, work seems pretty pointless at the moment. I am spending all my days writing Project Briefs and reports which even I think are dull and no matter how I try, it is impossible to liven them up, the subject matter is so dusty and dry. Honestly, who on earth cares if the richest council in the country misses out on a few more millions because some new charging regime is a few months late starting (well, our Councillors would care of course but no one else would), and who cares if the planning department has an effective project management system or not – certainly not the planning officers who wouldn’t recognise a system if it slapped them in the gonads.

Not only that, but the weather has been crappy ever since we got back. We left Heraklion in 36 degrees of dry heat and landed back at Gatwick in 11 degrees of chilly dampness, and it hasn’t warmed or dried up much since. Yesterday it was so cold and damp I almost put the heating back on again, but instead, mindful of the bills, wore a thick jumper and put an extra blanket on the bed. I hate being cold and wet, and I have been nothing but that for the last ten days. Honestly, it’s ridiculous, this is meant to be the height of summer and we have just come out of so called ‘flaming June’ into ‘blooming July’. Bloody soggy July, more like! Mind you it is Wimbledon fortnight, so I suppose it is to be expected.

I am also skint, which is contributing to my very bad mood. It’s always the same after holiday and it isn’t because I don’t budget, because I do. It’s just that when you are away (or amidst the temptations of Gatwick Airport duty free) you spend on things which you then forget about (ie Jo Malone perfume), and so don’t take account of it when working out how much money you have left. Then when you come to check the bank account you get a nasty surprise.

Penultimately, I have put back on a considerable amount of the weight I lost a few months ago which means my clothes don’t fit nicely (again) and I feel frumpy and lumpy (again). Drastic measures are called for! I have signed up for one of those diet programmes where they deliver your food for you and all you have to add is fresh fruit and vegetables and the occasional yoghurt or bread roll. I am hopeful that this will do the trick, as one of the things I always fall down on is having to think about my food, measure out portions and eat differently to the rest of the family. It costs a fortune (another reason I am skint because you pay up front, although some of which is offset against normal food spending) and a full month’s worth of breakfasts, lunches, dinners and daily snack treats have been delivered in plain brown cardboard boxes and are sitting in the kitchen. It’s a good month to start as we have no dinner dates on the calendar, but I suspect I am going to be very hungry quite a lot of the time.

Finally, and to top it all off nicely, I have been told off by the doctor because my blood pressure is too high and my cholesterol is through the roof, and unless I can reduce it over the next month or three by removing various stressors from my life, weight loss and improving my general fitness, I will have to have it treated and that is treatment pretty much for life, not just a month. (Sounds like that advert for pets doesn’t it – “A dog is for life, not just for Christmas”!) So I need to give some serious thought as to how I do that, and that will involve difficult decisions.

So basically at the moment, life pretty much stinks as far as I am concerned. Nothing is going in the right direction or as I want it to. And it is going to be hard work turning it around. No doubt I will pour out my frustrations on this blog, Facebook and to anyone else that will listen. You might get bored, but it might make me feel better. After all, a problem shared and all that …..