Reblogged from Sophieologie:

Of course if I had possessed any sense I would have realised that if these people wanted to be my friends it would have been based on my personality and not whether I picked up a silly habit. Hindsight is an accursed thing. By the time I realised this it had become a habit; just something I did like so many other people. We know it’s unhealthy and dangerous, but everyone needs a vice, right?

Silly. Still, as we know life is one long self-improvement project and I’m happy to report that as of today I am:

Which I think is quite good.

I’ve been wanting to knock the tabs (to use the local vernacular) on the head for a while. Smoking and running don’t really go together, and it’s a gross and deadly habit. Last year my maternal grandmother died of lung cancer having smoked for at least 40 years. She gave up a number of years ago which was an amazing achievement, but it caught up to her in the end. Mind you, if she hadn’t given up things could have developed a lot sooner. At least the last few years were smoke-free. I decided I didn’t want to be a 40-year smoker “having” to give up because of old age, pressure from my family or simply because I couldn’t climb stairs without wheezing. I wanted to quit while it was still my decision. So I did.

A lot of friends, acquaintances or whoever talked to me about Champix, nicotine replacements and electronic cigarettes, but the method I decided to use was to go cold turkey. That was… well, I felt like I was on drugs for about a week. Weird drugs that made your skin crawl, your head swim and your blood boil. There were occasional bouts of euphoria but these would last about five seconds before being replaced with a strange sadness, yearning and light-headedness. Thankfully I managed to avoid any serious meltdowns, and once the physical nicotine dependence wore off it was just a matter of tackling the mental addiction.

The thing about nicotine is that the physical addiction is easy to break. It only takes a few days for it to leave your bloodstream; the hardest part is identifying and combating the mental addiction. Once you realise that any stress relief you felt from smoking before was simply alleviating nicotine withdrawal and that cigarettes don’t actually do *anything* for you, it’s up to you to figure out why you started and continued to smoke.

For me it was because I wanted to feel as though I belonged to something. The cool kids all smoked, and I wanted to be a cool kid too. In my favourite books and films the subversive and intellectual characters smoked like chimneys, and I wanted to identify with those people. I forgot that I wasn’t living in early to mid-20th century Paris or New York. Once I realised that it’s far more admirable to carve your own path and be remembered for more than having a silly habit, things got a bit easier. Of course when you’re floating around the room and you feel as though you’re crawling out of your own skin, it’s useful to have some quick mantras to refer to:

1. You will never look as cool as the old movie stars.

Seriously. This will never be you:

The best a real person can hope for is this:

Yes that’s Dot Cotton from Eastenders, but it was tricky finding photos that wouldn’t be seen as “lol look at this old lady she’s dying” or invade privacy.

2. It’s gross and it makes the outdoors look like crap.

Ah, what a glorious day. The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, and… what’s that over there? Oh. Some nasty litter. Not just any litter, litter that has been in people’s mouths and then thrown willy-nilly onto the ground.

Oh. Ewww.

3. You smell bad and you should feel bad.

I used to think that the worst smells in the world were things like wet dog, poop, and the fur shrug that woman sitting next to me was wearing when I was riding the DC Metro a couple of years ago, but now I’ve had to add smoker to that list. The absolute worst smell? Wet smoker. Especially when they’ve warmed up a bit. No amount of Febreeze in the world can effectively cover up that stink, no matter what the adverts say.

You know what smells nice? Soap. Simple, clean soap. And being able to still smell soap on yourself even hours after you’ve showered is really really nice. Mmm, soap.

So there we go. I used to do something stupid, and now I don’t do that anymore. It wasn’t easy, but there are worse things in the world. I realise that I could still develop a smoking-related illness even though I’ve given up, and that I could easily relapse, but that’s all on me and would be no-one’s fault but my own. But for however long I’ve got to enjoy my relative youth (30 is the new 20, because I say so ), I’m going to give this clean air thing a good old try. I may not be cool, but at least I smell, look and feel better

Thank Cthulhu for Britpop and the advent of Cool Britannia.

Grunge had drifted over the Atlantic in the late 80s and while it was nice and everything Britpop finally gave us 90s kids something to identify with. Where the hell is Seattle? I dunno. Hey look, this guy is from Sheffield. I’ve been there. Britpop started in the early 90s and hit its peak in 1995, the year I turned 13 and started high school (I’m a product of the three-tier educational system). Marvellous.

At that time kids my age in Northumberland were allotted into two main camps; hippies and charvas. Each group named the other using extremely simplistic terms, but I was quite pleased that the charva kids didn’t want to hang out with me. They were scary, they wore tracksuits and their music was terrible. I embraced my new-found classification and decided to see what it was all about. I’d like to think that Britpop was the first thing that influenced my tastes, outlook and ideologies, which probably sounds silly but bear with me.

Britpop introduced me to nerdy creative guys:

Nyawww…

Could do with a bit of feeding up, but that’s ok.

I like your glasses, Mr Hannon

My favourites were Graham Coxon from Blur, Jarvis Cocker from Pulp (and now simply “Jarvis”) and Neil Hannon from the Divine Comedy. I learned that smart nerdy guys are hot. A very valuable lesson.

The real pioneers of 90s “Girl Power” weren’t primped and plucked airheads showing their knickers:

I hated the Spice Girls. Hated, hated, hated them. People who liked them and thought they were “Like, totally showing guyz what for teehee” were, in my opinion, ditzy morons who wouldn’t know female empowerment if it smacked them in the face.

Yuck

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

Eschewing the sparkly “GRRL POWAAAH” brigade, I focused my attentions on the bands Garbage and Sleeper. Both of these groups were fronted by women who seemed a lot more to my tastes.

Louise Wener from Sleeper

Shirley Manson from Garbage

Yeah! These women sang about relationships, sex, how miserable it is to simply be alive sometimes, and life. There was no need to stomp around shouting about how independent they were and how girls would take over the world, just decent songs about real things that affect EVERYONE, regardless of gender or status. That’s female empowerment.

The end…

Eventually all good things must end, and after the peak and eventual decline of Britpop things were left open for other acts to come in and have a go. In 1997 Radiohead released “OK Computer”, and for me it made the transition from bouncy Britpop to more “serious” music and discovering more esoteric genres as easy as sneering at an East 17 reunion tour poster. The rest of my teenage years saw me flirting with hard rock, goth, industrial, electronica and the seemingly endless “post-whatever” classifications, but Britpop laid the foundation for the person I became and for that it will always have a soft squishy place in my memories.

Also as time has gone by and my old idols have matured, I learned that even if you start channelling the insane Open University lecturer look you’ll still be hot:

Professor Cocker

I spent my post-Xmas limbo week (the week between Xmas Day and New Year’s Eve) getting reacquainted with my old friend 35mm film thanks to being gifted a Lomography Fisheye2 camera by my sister-in-law, and it’s been a hell of a lot of fun.

Lomography is a genre and method of photography that uses “toy” cameras to capture and share analog photographs (ie. on rolls of film) with other Lomo fans, and because of the often slightly shonky construction of these cameras, the little quirks and foibles associated with Soviet-era photographic technology. Basically… crappy plastic cameras that occasionally make pretty photos through sheer luck, tinkering and messing about. Exactly the kind of thing I enjoy.

The Fisheye2 has been updated slightly from the original Fisheye to include a hotshoe with viewfinder attachment, a tough metal body, a bulb setting and a switch to make shooting multiple exposures easy-peasy. The result is that the new Fisheye is hardier, has more features, a proper fisheye viewfinder, and is cute as a button:

If you’ve used any sort of old-skool film camera before operation is fairly self-explanatory. There’s a shutter release button, an on/off switch for the flash, and wind wheel/crank for moving film along a frame and winding it back into the canister when you finish a roll.

The lens is set at F8 with a focal length of 10mm, and it can’t be removed from the camera body. The supplied lens cap is cute, but not very secure and it will pop off with any small knocks or inside your bag. Apparently a better cap is in the works, but I think it goes quite nicely with the brand if I’m honest. A bit shonky, but charming.

(By the way if you like the nifty little wrist strap the camera is toting, you can visit the store of a lovely Etsy seller known as FunkyMutt - she makes dog collars and camera straps. I use one of her larger straps on my K5 and it’s so comfortable and awesome)

Another nice feature of the Fisheye2 is the LNB slider:

This lets you either lock the shutter (so it doesn’t go off in your bag/pocket/at the slightest bump), shoot a normal exposure, or switch it into bulb mode for long exposures. In normal mode the camera shoots at 1/100s. There is no light meter on this camera, so it is strictly “shoot it and see”, but if you have experience with taking wild guesses depending on the light available and the ASA (ISO) of the film you’re using, it’s not a big deal. It reminds me of snapping things with an old Kodak Tele-Instamatic that an aunt gave to me when I was six and would eagerly await the trip to the photo developers to see what delights I’d created. Good times.

Using the Fisheye2 is easy as hell. Peer through the viewfinder (or not; sometimes “shooting from the hip” can make some pretty awesome snapshots), release the shutter, wind the film along and there you go.

Time for some sample shots? Yes, I think so! All of these photos were taken with Fujicolor C200 film that I picked up from my local Boots. Other brands are available (‘natch), but this particular variety was on offer at the time.

Bulb Mode:

I had a lot of fun getting these shots, especially as I had to guess how long I should open the shutter for. One thing I would recommend is finding a sturdy flat surface or tripod if you don’t want jiggly photographs, as the camera body is very light. One thing missing from the Fisheye2 which was slightly disappointing is a tripod mount, but I got around this by using a cheap mount for a smartphone which perfectly fit the height of the camera. I then broke the mount by dropping it on the ground later, but hey.

Multiple Exposures:

Also very, very fun to do. There’s no limit to how many exposures you want to use on a single frame, so go nuts. You can combine the different shutter modes, use the flash for some shots, or just shoot and shoot and shoot to see what happens.

Normal Mode:

The Fisheye2 shoots with a 170 degree field of vision, which means that images in the centre of the frame look relatively normal, but towards the edges they curve in a fairly lovely way. As you get closer to your subject it appears slightly distorted and bulbous, which is also fun.

Mishaps:

I mentioned earlier that the construction of Lomo cameras was a little iffy, and one thing they are notorious for is light leakage:

Like I give a damn. You can buy apps that let you add light leaks to smartphone snapshots, so when they happen by accident it’s quite nice.

If you’d like to see more of my first forays into the world of Lomo you can visit this Flickr set. None of them have been post-processed, so everything you see in the frame was done by the camera and an incident when I accidentally triple-exposed some frames during a film rewind error.

SO THEN…

What do I think? I think if you miss the olden days of snapping and hoping, or want to get away from sterile, prescribed methods of photography and try something a little more chaotic, you can’t go wrong by messing with a toy camera. The one big downside is that buying rolls of film and getting them developed is a lot more expensive these days, but the excitement and pleasure at discovering that you’ve made something interesting is worth it. Developing your own negatives and prints is also an option, and if you have the space and equipment for your own darkroom (or have easy access to one), let me know so I can visit because The Nerdly Household doesn’t have any space to set one up in

So, how are you all? I’m sorry I haven’t updated since… forever… but it’s because I was having all sorts of adventures and… Actually, I’m just very lazy. Sorry. Anyway, during my downtime I’ve been acquiring some decent topics to write about, so hopefully I can start being active again. Sorry.

I still need to do a bit of planning and pondering, but some topics I thought I could cover in the next few weeks/months may include:

1. The Walking Dead The Game conclusion.

2. Funtography 4: Lomo Adventures.

3. The trouble with M&Ms.

4. That time I got Gangnam Styled at in the park.

5. My hopes and dreams for 2013 (although I haven’t decided what my hopes and dreams were for 2012 yet so uh…)

Yeaah. Nice to see you all again though, we should definitely do this more often.

On October 25th my Kindle took delivery of the latest book in The Walking Dead The Book Possibly Expanded Universe series, The Road to Woodbury. I started it on Friday evening and finished it last night. It’s taken me until today to sort out my opinions and final thoughts.

The Road to Woodbury picks up some time after Rise of the Governor when Bonkers Blake has started to rule the town, and follows Lilly Caul’s adventures through the Zombocalypse. Lilly is a character who has been in the comic, game and now the book (so far she hasn’t appeared the TV series, but it’s early days), but unlike The Governor her personality seems to have been completely changed for each appearance for some reason.

WARNING: SPOILAAAAHZ (Comic and game).

Ok. This is Lilly from the comic:

In this incarnation Lilly didn’t get much backstory and was just a resident of Woodbury who worked with The Governor to assault the prison. She wouldn’t have made much of an impression had she not shot and killed Lori and Judith Grimes. Moving on.

In the game Lilly is this dainty filly:

We meet Lilly and her father Larry in episode 1. She’s an intelligent woman with anger issues, and after her father dies and gets his head crushed by a cement block her attitude doesn’t really improve and things get a little crazy. Her final appearance is in episode 3 when after an argument gets a little too heated, she nicks your RV and drives off into the distance. Lovely lady.

Just The Book Bits:

Book Lilly seems to be a completely different person. An anxious, self-doubting young woman, we meet her in a tent community hanging out with her old friend Megan. We get to learn about her backstory, and that her father is someone else and died in a more heroic way than keeling over in a walk-in freezer. Over the course of the book some nasty things happen and Lilly veers from stressing the hell out to engaging in some post-apocalyptic humping with a guy who taught her how to chop logs.

Eventually, after being kicked out of the tent community after getting duffed up by some guy who was annoyed that she only saved two of his kids and Mr Log Chopper killing him to save her life, the group find Woodbury. The town seems ok but has a sinister underbelly and some seriously dubious entertainment. We meet The Governor again, and we get to see how he’s been getting on since the last book.

After a bit Lilly gets sick of the way things are run and decides to rebel with some pals. It doesn’t go to plan, and although some changes are made to Woodbury’s systems she ends up cleaning up guts in a sort of undead gladiator arena in the final chapter. Yeah, great.

I honestly struggled to see the point of this book. I think we were supposed to be enthused by following Lilly on her journey from nervous nellie to courageous curmudgeon, but it was all a bit futile. The most enjoyable parts were the ones focusing on The Governor and getting to see his mask slip occasionally, which made me feel sorry for him for a while until he did something horrific again. Poor Governor.

I suppose the book does support the overriding theme of The Walking Dead in that the Zombocalypse will transform humanity and only those who adapt and fight will survive, but I felt that the ending was rushed which just made Lilly’s struggle and character development seem pointless. I’m glad I read the book so that I could get a little more detail about the evolution of Woodbury and its inhabitants, but I think that focusing so much on Lilly was a bit of a mistake. I’d have much preferred to follow the alcoholic doctor or Mr Log Chopper, who seemed to be far more interesting characters with more depth, but what’s done is done.

In conclusion: Yeah it was ok. Not as good as the first book.

SPOILAHZ COMPLETE

And that’s the story of how the little pig that thought it could fly found out it couldn’t.

I was 15 and just starting my adventure into the great wide world of PC gaming. For the first time my family had a system that would actually play modern games in all of their blocky, muddy glory. Up until then my only exposure to racing games was playing Micro Machines on my cousin’s Mega Drive and Outrun on our clunky Commodore 64. I was loaned a copy of Carmageddon (which I couldn’t even pronounce properly, much to the chagrin of my pals) and OH MY GOD.

I’d never seen ANYTHING like this before. A game where you can race if you want to, but there are pedestrians (or zombie cows) to run over, you don’t have to stick to the course and you can interact with other cars?? Of course by interact I mean “smash the bejesus out of them”. I felt like my eyes were being opened to all sorts of new possibilities and a whole new gaming experience, albeit a fairly destructive one

Of course as I got older new hardware, games and ideas came along, but Carmageddon has always had a special place in my polygon heart. I moved on to Burnout and became quite adept at vehicular destruction, but I missed Carmageddon’s slightly clunky interface, swearing drivers and all out carnage.

Now I hold in my hand (literally) Carmageddon for iOS. Maybe it’s just because I can remember installing these games onto spluttering desktop PCs but I’m still slightly awestruck when a game is ported over to a mobile device and ported well. I’ll probably feel the same way in another 15 years when I can play Skyrim on my FuturePhone or SpaceiPod (patents pending).

The controls for Carmageddon iOS on the iPod Touch 4G (I’m not typing that out again) are basic but work quite well. Acceleration, brake, handbrake and steering are all in the bottom corners of the screen, but you can choose different steering modes if you don’t fancy wearing out your thumbs.

I was quite excited to try tilt steering, but it’s not great. It felt very clumsy, jerky and quite horrible really. I went back to thumb-jabby steering as soon as I could, but not after spinning around uncontrollably on a road and accidentally ruining some people’s lives.

There are three ways to win Carmageddon: By racing for real and coming in first place, by destroying your opponents, or by squishing every pedestrian on the map. I much prefer the second option.

I think that for £1.49 you could do a lot worse for nostalgia. The graphics aren’t great for 2012, but they look exactly the same as they did on the PC. I’d say it’s a fairly decent price for being instantly transported back to a simpler time before you had to worry about jobs, rent payments and adult situations.

And I always worry about adult situations. You never know when one might strike! Terrifying.

This novel is written by Robert Kirkman (the creator of the comic series and producer of the TV series) and Jay Bonasinga (writer of various supernatural thrillers and independent film producer) and details the origins of The Governor, one of the most notorious TWD characters to date. I’ll do my best not to spoil things, but be warned that if you’re not familiar with the TWD universe you may read something you don’t need to know just yet.

!!OMG SPOILERZ!!

The Governor’s real name is Philip Blake and he hails from Burke County in Georgia. If you’re following the comic series you’ll know him as this cheery chappy:

If you’re just watching the TV series The Governor will be in the next season which is due to land on 14th October. Woo! He will be portrayed by David Morrissey, a scouse lad who has been in all sorts of things including Poirot and Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. He’s a good actor though so don’t let that put you off.

The Rise of the Governor follows Mr Blake, his brother, closest pals and young daughter as they try to ride out the zombocalypse and find a safe place to hide out. Along the way they meet all sorts of people, although most of them seem more interested in eating soft flesh than making friends. After some scrapes, japes and a mixture of good and bad times, they eventually stumble across the town of Woodbury and that’s where the story ends to be picked up later in the comic.

Well, not quite. Throughout the book you get the feeling that something isn’t quite right, and if you know the character at all it’s quite uncomfortable reading about his origins and eventual transformation into the not-so-nice guy he becomes. You can definitely draw parallels between Ranger Rick and The Governor while reading the comic, and it becomes even more clear in this novel. Both start out as family men who just want to protect the ones they care about as best they can, but somewhere along the way the horrific situations and being forced to make quick (and often disastrous) decisions make them veer off onto completely different paths. Red oni, blue oni. Yin and yang. Laurel and Hardy: the undead version.

The book itself is a pretty easy read, and while it doesn’t tax your brain too much it can be pretty creepy in places so perhaps it isn’t one to read alone on a blustery night if you have a tendency to jump at shadows and imagine faces in windows. Even if you live on the 15th floor. Hey, that would be really really scary!

I enjoyed this book immensely because I like digging around in the back stories and lore of my latest obsessions, but I can see that some people might find it frustrating if they’re just a casual observer. On the other hand it might pique your curiosity to find out more about TWD’s universe and widely-spread tendrils. I’d say that if you’re a fan of the series and want to read about what else is going on during the same time frame covered by the comics, give it a go. If you’re just following the TV show I’d recommend that you hold off until it is deep into its next season; there are some nods to The Governor’s motivations and personality that are best experienced after he’s introduced. That way the surprises kick you squarely in the gut as they should.

The reason that this entry is the first part is because a second novel, The Road to Woodbury, is due to be released on October 16th, and seems to detail the origin story of one of the Woodbury residents that eventually gets to meet Ranger Rick and his crew. If you know what I mean, keep it shut

!!END SPOILERZ!!

Then at the end they all have ice cream.

The world’s biggest sports day kicked off last week. I hope you saw the opening ceremony (or at least caught a highlights reel later on). It was, in the words of Dizzee Rascal, bonkers. Given the fact that this time it’s being hosted in Britain, could it have been any other way? Would we want it any other way? Hell naw.

British people may seem serious and stuffy out the outside, but that’s just a façade. Underneath you’ll find that we’re all absolutely barmy, but we are very much aware of this thank you very much. It’s part of our national pride. It’s how we carry on and get things done. I wouldn’t swap it for anything in the world. Being able to laugh at oneself is a skill, and I feel quite lucky that I was born in a country where it’s an innate behaviour rather than something that has to be learned.

Still don’t believe that we’re all certifiably insane, bonkers, barmy and nuts? List time!

1. White Van Man

You’re just driving along (on the left, of course) doing your thing, when suddenly your rear-view mirror fills up with a terrifying sight. A man driving a large vehicle seems to want to overtake you, but why is he riding your rear bumper first? You meet eyes with him and give him an “Excuse me?” look and he returns your gesture by flicking the double Vs. He eventually overtakes and passes you, just barely missing your side mirrors, then veers in front of you forcing you to mash the brake pedal to avoid careening into his rear doors.

Congratulations, you just survived an encounter with White Van Man. An ubiquitous phenomenon in Britain, although nowadays the vans don’t have to be white and the drivers don’t have to be men. A good rule of thumb is that if you spot a vehicle large enough to be used for commercial use, BE AFRAID.

Another great British trait is that rather than tackle an issue head on, we’ll eventually just learn to live with it and accept it as one of those things that you dismiss with a roll of the eyes and a nervous chuckle. Then when you come across somebody driving a van who actually obeys The Highway Code and is a courteous driver it’s a nice surprise and makes us feel good for the future of humanity, while forgetting THAT’S HOW IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE. At least until we turn a corner and another chap threatens to smash your face in for indicating a right turn, and then we’re back to “Oh I know, isn’t it awful? Oh well, can’t be helped, teehee”.

2. Pride/Hate/Love/Hate

“That building is a monstrosity”

“How much is this national event going to cost??”

“It’ll go wrong. We can’t do anything right.”

“Woooo Union Jack flags woooo!”

“National treasure!”

We’re a nation of contradiction. We want more effective law enforcement, but we hate CCTV and strict policing. We want to celebrate our history and heritage, but we hate pomp and circumstance. We invented pomp and circumstance. We want to show the rest of the world what we’re capable of, but we don’t want to pay for it. What do we actually want? I’ve been a Britlander for 30 years now and I think I’ve worked it out; we just want to confuse people. That’s it. Then maybe have a nice cup of tea and a sit down, but we mostly just want to mess with other people’s heads. Muwahahahah!

Oh and a quick tip: if you’re visiting Britain and a citizen starts complaining about the skyline, the buildings, the politics or even just the lack of street lights, DO NOT JOIN IN. You don’t get to disparage Old Blighty, that’s our job.

3. Voting for a London mayoral candidate “For a laugh”, turns out to not be such a bad idea after all.

We love the underdog in this country. We also love the buffoon. Which is fitting considering how crackers we are anyway. In 2008 everyone’s favourite floppy-haired overgrown public schoolboy Boris Johnson was a candidate in the running for London Mayor. I don’t live in London so I get to view the role of Mayor as a bit of old guff and can’t vote for my favourite candidate (although it didn’t stop me writing “RED KEN FOR MAYOR” on my school textbooks in 2000… oh dear), I have to admit that the “lol this will be a laugh” movement to get Johnson into power actually worked pretty well.

The London Mayor is responsible for looking after policies and budgets in London while championing the city around the world. Keeping a barmpot in charge of all that means that we get to show other countries what we’re really like, even if some of his buffoonery is clearly for show. It’s like a Barmpot Sampler. Look at what you could win. Be our friend, we’ll make you laugh.

Oh Boris, how did that happen? Oh you!

So yes. British people. We’re all nuts. But don’t point it out if you’re not from here or we’ll tut and you won’t get any biscuits. Well you will, but they won’t be the fancy ones. Yeah.

However, some things are inescapable truths, so it’s best to be aware of them so that you can be prepared to deal with them. In the previous installment of “What the Diet Books DON’T Tell You…” I talked about some of the effects I’d noticed from embarking upon an adventure in Eat Less Crap, Move Around A Bit More. Today I’d like to add some extra little bits and pieces, including a couple of observations I can’t really voice anywhere else.

WARNING: The following text may include rambling, harsh judgements and sweeping generalisations. 

1. Exercise and nutrition-tracking apps are very useful, but they’re also evil.

One of the most nifty things about modern technology is that if there’s a task to be done, there’s an app for it. We use apps to wake up in the morning, to tell us what the weather might do later in the day, and to bounce a little dude with no arms up a height for some reason. For the past five weeks I’ve been using Nike+ with my iPod and a little sensor thingie that sits in a special pouch on top of my shoe. It’s a really useful little tool; it tracks your steps, plays music at you, and gives you vocal feedback on how you’re doing. There’s just one problem… it’s evil.

I’m not saying it’s sentient or anything like that (although it’s only a matter of time…) but I keep finding myself pushing myself harder, speeding up and going for longer just so I won’t disappoint the lady who tells me how far I’ve run, how long it’s taken me and what my current pace is. It’s ridiculous. It’s like having a lobotomised personal trainer who has retained the key phrases from their job but might not even know you’re there. I guess I could choose the male voice, but I think having a stern lady telling me what to do gives me enough annoyance to try harder. Note: this is not advised if you’re driving with a satnav. When I was driving in the States I wanted to strangle our GPS unit. The judgemental cow. Yeah, I’ll do a U-turn. I’ll U-turn you right in your smug mouth.

Still, it bloody works. When you break a personal record and get an achievement (achievements! Those cunning sods!) you feel brilliant. Even if you flag a little some days you can usually figure out why and make a mental note to try and fix things for next time. Then you’ll show her.

2. Gaining entry to an exclusive club that you never wanted to be part of in the first place.

Ah, women. We do love to belong. Most of us, anyway… I’d rather read a book in a quiet corner, but hey. When word gets out that you’re making some lifestyle changes and it’s working, you’re suddenly expected to join in with the fellow diet-fans. “Oh great! I can swap tips and recipes with people who also care about feeling good!” Sorry, that’s not how it works. See, the reason these people are such experts on practically every diet in existence and can tell you within half a second how many calories are in a fun-sized Mars Bar is because this is their life. They don’t aspire to make long-lasting changes, they aspire to be on a diet. Forever.

It’s quite disappointing, but if you stay vigilant you can spot the warning signs:

• Referring to food as either “good” or “bad” with nothing in-between. Example sentences include “Oh I’m being good today” or “I was dead bad at the weekend.” Perma-dieters  see the world in black and white. “Moderation” is an alien concept.
• Shrieking loudly in despair whenever anyone mentions biscuits.
• Terrible food choices or a lack of basic nutrition. Four Ryvita crackers is not a healthy meal.

I’d like to end on a positive note here. The best part of keeping an eye on what you eat, taking time to prepare good food and taking note of what your body needs is that when you fancy a little treaty something (whatever your treaty somethings are; mine are chocolate, pizza, craft beer and cake) it tastes so fantastic, so earth-shatteringly awesome that you can almost feel the dopamine flowing through your system. If you have treats all of the time, they’re not treats any more. You become apathetic towards little pleasures, and end up trying to find it in more and more places. People go shopping, they spend money they don’t really have on trinkets and widgets that they don’t really need, or they do something utterly deranged, hopeless and world-ending such as get into the Fifty Shades of Grey series. Anything to try and recreate that high and feel special.

The thing is, if you feel special all of the time, nothing is ever special ever again. Plus you’ll end up becoming one of those mad people who think it’s ok to talk about poorly-written BDSM fanfic in public. Not good.  Keep it simple and you’ll find pleasure in even the smallest things.