Yesterday, after our family wedding in Ireland and a few further weeks of self indulgence, I finally stood on the scales.
And I stood on the scales.
And I stood on the scales.
And I stood on the scales.
When I'd recovered from the heart attack I thought to myself;
You stupid, stupid woman.
Okay, so I think that most days. But yesterday I really meant it. I mean, a couple of biscuits and a glass of wine and wham bam I'm half a stone heavier! It's that perimenopause I tell you, screwing up my system. So it's back to the diet of bran and yogurt and walking for at least an hour a day. Groan, groan, groan. Why me? Why couldn't I have been born some svelte-like willowy creature, instead of a tub of lard?
Anyway, so I put on my tracksuit and prepared to steel myself against the bitter wind. Then I had a thought, why not be daring Mrs T and try something new?
So I took off all my clothes and headed down the street....
No, seriously. I didn't. Although it may have crossed my mind. Instead, I decided I'd borrow Master Benedict's ipod and download an audio book. Daring, daring stuff I hear you say. What next? An electronic egg whisker for Mrs T? Well I popped onto itunes and looked at the the first few pages of the latest fiction releases...
The Red Queen by Philppa Gregory. Now I fancied that as I really enjoyed The Other Boleyn Girl. But £15.95? No can do Ms Gregory. Not for an experiment. I could buy 3 paperbacks for that price.
Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks. A great book but I've already read it. And listening to all that despair and gloom again? I might find myself under the wheels of a 10 ton truck.
The King's Speech by Mark Logue. Nope - as I was going to see it at the cinema that very night! And very good it was too. Colin Firth was first class and by the time I came out I was almost waving the Union Jack and singing Rule Britannia. Ah... A little jingoism does the soul good!
The Lollipop Shoes by Joanne Harris. Nope. Sorry. I was bored stiff by Chocolat, despite it starting off at a major advantage by possessing a rather attractive title. Darn good marketing ploy. I'm going to try it myself - I reckon if just rename my book Maltesers than should be enough to win that critic over. Unless she's a diabetic.
The Tycoon Takes A Wife by Catherine Mann. Hmm. I don't think that title is interesting enough. If it was The Tycoon Takes Several Wives I might have been tempted. But alas, only one wife in the usual wet rag of a woman meets self made millionaire I didn't know who I was till I met you! scenario isn't enough to whet my palette, let alone wet my knickers.
Pictures of Lily by Paige Toon. Alas, for obvious reasons, I didn't think that would work too well on audio. Stupid name as well. Hope it's a pseudonym.
Distant Voices by Barbara Eskine. Ditto.
Miss Winthrope's Elopment by Christine Merrill. I could never in a million years purchase a book with such a stupid title. Somebody buys this stuff? Get a life! Try The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie if you must read about frustrated spinsters. Oh read this. Says it all.
Part of the Furniture by Mary Wesley. Okay...cover your ears. But f***k me that sounds boring. Somebody fire Wesley's publicist.
Electricity by Ray Robinson. Ah ha. Now we're getting interesting. I've already got Electricity sitting on my shelf waiting to read. Anything else? Yep, his latest novel, Forgetting Zoe, which comes highly recommended by Scott Pack. (Also I've a little self interest as Ray was one of the judges in Gary's writing competition that judged my flash fiction a piece of genius. Yeah, so okay, that's a little big headed of me. But hey, I'm on a morale boosting session! I need it! Just bear with me now. Remember the hormones, the weight gain and the critic. Have some sympathy.) Anyway,
Forgetting Zoe is affordable at £6.95, so I decided to go for it.
So eventually, after much fiddling around with Master Ben's headphone thingys, (I wasn't aware that I had funny shaped ears till now) I set off on my walk and, blow me, did I have a shock. Well Ray Robinson is a bloke but it was read by an American woman! Who sounded just like Heather! (Go listen to one of her podcasts) Okay, okay the story is set in America but well you know I just didn't expect it.... I guess I was thinking of... Colin Firth? You know, stiff upper lip Brit, classically trained, proves he can do an American accent... I dunno. Sometimes I confuse myself.
Anyway, I'm off walking at a pace round the village trying hard to focus on the story. I found concentrating pretty tricky as my brain just wanders off into its own small, peculiar world. Now there's a surprise. There's also the problem that when you're out walking there's lots of things to look at - like grass and stuff. That made it somewhat difficult for me...
Oh look at the grass, and that tree and that car Mrs T! Watch out for that dog muck too! And don't look behind you, you might be followed by a strange dog. I wonder if Daniel Craig lives round here and will see my bottom as he drives past in his Aston? Mind that manhole cover now....
You know, I think there's actually an art to listening to audios which I haven't developed yet. I need to keep on trying.
It didn't help either that after a while I got really cold, stuck my hands in the my pocket and all of a sudden I heard this;
At this point, I decided it was time to head back home for a good old fashioned book. I shan't give up though, Readers. The night is young, the flesh is weak but Mrs T paid £6.95 and I'm gonna get to the end of if even it kills me. (It probably will too, as I can't hear the traffic.)