Fresh Start No. 12,876 :: The Big Push

bulk :: 17st 1
cigarettes smoked :: 0
joints smoked :: 0
alcohol units taken :: 50
osteopathic beatings :: 1
chiropractic diddlings :: 0
runs run :: 0
swims swum :: 0
stretch sessions stretched :: 6
gyms joined :: 1
training programmes drawn up :: 1
gym sessions enjoyed :: 1 (enjoyed might be stretching it)
wishlist alerts :: 2 (enormous rubber ball for rolling around on, bidet)
days passed without blogging :: 18
days passed without thinking of blogging :: 0
responses from Virgin Media :: 2
satisfactory responses from Virgin Media :: 0
books read :: 2
lists made :: 12
new blogs launched :: 2
promises made :: legion
fingers crossed :: 8
toes crossed :: 0 (fat toes)
laptops rescued :: 0
laptops replaced :: 1
parents traced :: 1
trips to Brighton :: 2
London rendezvous :: 2
unseasonal blues :: 1
predictable pinks :: 1
fresh starts :: 3

Well, that was a few weeks well wasted.

How are you? You’re looking well, I must say. You look great in fact. Your eyes are shining. In fact, your whole body is practically fizzing with energy, like there’s some inner light seeping out through every pore and orifice. And… is that… have you been working out?

But enough about you.

So.

It’s been a while. Nearly three weeks in fact. Nearly three weeks in which I’ve discovered one very important thing. What I’ve discovered is that although life definitely does goes on when you don’t spend most of your day plugged into the internet, nobody really notices. Therefore, I ask you, is it really life?

Or in other words, if a blogger posts a story about a tree falling in a forest and no one actually reads it, what’s the fucking point? Eh?

Anyhow, as you can see from you above stats, I am officially a giant fatty again. In the last three weeks, I’ve managed to put on over a stone in weight, simply by doing next to nothing and eating like a stoned pig. (Although I haven’t been stoned, I hasten to add. Merely unpleasantly piglike.)

It’s weird. From the moment I knew I wasn’t going to be blogging again till September, I just thought, ‘Fuck it’ and strapped on a nose bag.

Pathetic. I hate compulsive behaviour. I hate being out of control. Even if it is, as in this case, a pseudo-controlled lack of control. Inasmuch as I gave myself 18 days to stop caring, to drop out of the regime I’d already let slide laughably, and do whatever I liked. Christ. I could’ve written a book in that time. A short one perhaps, but a book nonetheless. At the very least, I could have written a good few blog posts – maybe attempted to rewrite some of the stuff I’d lost in the flood. But I didn’t. I ate pizza. I ate cake and rice pudding. Ice cream and Sugar Puffs. I even ate a kebab, for heaven’s sake. I watched TV. And crap films - Sex and the City - God forgive me – a film that makes Mamma Mia look like The Sound of Music. I played Guitar Hero. I looked at the rain. I indulged myself. I pitied myself. I loathed myself. In that order. As I say, pathetic.

However, I also got a few things done, some of which I’ll be boasting about over the coming days and weeks.

Suffice - for now - to say, I have joined a gym and have started using it; I have started two new blogs, one in which I talk about the weather (I have no idea why – it’s quite possible I am having a nervous breakdown); the other in which I post desperately amusing examples of dodgy English.

What else? My laptop was tended to by various experts. It underwent numerous operations and experimental procedures, most of which tallied with some of the very helpful suggestions in the comments to the previous post. But all to no avail. So I gave up and bought a new one. I’m not sure I felt the sense of lightness some of you predicted on giving up on all the old stuff, but I certainly felt an enormous elation on becoming acquainted with my new jet black Mac. It’s a Notebook. And it's genuinely lovely.

In other news, I haven’t seen much of Keith of late, which leaves me feeling a little weird. If I’m completely honest, it makes me feel a little bit jealous and a little bit lonely, and I think I just feel weird about admitting it. Better out than in though. Also, when I have seen him, he is clearly very happy with his special lady, so obviously I have nothing but good wishes for him. They're even off to the Lakes tomorrow. The Lakes! In September!

Not that I’ve been entirely on my own of course. I have been spending a bit of time with my sweet-hearted fuck-friend Morag. More time perhaps than you might think strictly healthy for a copulation-based arrangement, but I have no regrets. We have fun.

I also made enquiries about my father, and have been surprised by my discoveries.

And also, worth repeating, I've finally joined a gym.

Oh yes. Fresh start, here I come.

But for now, sleep.

Before I go however, a massive thank you to everyone who's left comments and kind words in the last few weeks. Made me really happy.

Aaaaaah.

It’s good to be back.