About three years ago I had a bit of a medical scare, one that turned out to be a total non-runner but one that terrified me for a short time.
Rather than go to my normal GP I decided that I wanted someone who would treat me with tender loving care so I went to another GP, an old friend.
Once we had survived this crisis the doctor looked at my spreading figure and told me to come back for a complete check up and potential overhaul.
I’ve always been a thin person, for the first forty years of my life I ate what ever I wanted to. I was the envy of all my contempories, ”Look at you” they’d say, “stuffing yourself and you never put on an ounce”
One of the reasons I became a chef is that I love my food, Gourmet I may be, I’m not at all sure, but Gourmand I certainly am.
I think that as I got through my thirties I had begun to put on a bit of weight, but nothing that shows up in photographs.
That all changed when I had a brain Haemorrhage, in 1991.
After that I was warned by a doctor that my chances of having another were much higher if I continued smoking.

Short sharp shock number one.

So on Ash Wednesday in 1992 I smoked my last cigarette.
I innoculated myself against relapse with nicotine patches, extra strong mints and copious amounts of strong coffee. I was one of the lucky ones, I successfully gave the fags up and have never looked back.
Unfortunately there was a little side effect no-one had warned me about.
I started eat more and to put on weight.

By the time I stood up on the scales in my new doctors surgery three years ago I was 17 ½ stone.
Furthermore my blood sugars were at such a high level that I was borderline Diabetic.
He told me that I should lose four stone.

Short sharp shock number two.

So I started to diet.
I did the whole weightwatchers thing.
Counting points, eating fat and calorie free meals, everyone has been there.
Mind you I stopped short of going to meetings.
The thought of the satisfaction of all the suffering weightwatchers watching a restaurateur being hoist with his own petard was more than I could bear.
In three months I lost 1 ½ stone.
Then I stopped losing weight.
That is the way it has stayed it has stayed.

My life as a restaurateur was a fairly physically active one so when I retired we bought an exercise bike.
This I have been using fairly religiously for the last six months.
First thing in the morning I do 16 kilometres on the bike, this takes me about a half hour.
I am still weighing in at 16 stone.
This year for the month of November I gave up all alcohol.

Yesterday I visited my GP.
I am still 16 stone weight.
OK I said:
I gave up the fags.
I gave up the drink but so help me god I can’t give up the food.
My doctor was sympathetic.
He offered me another alternative.
More exercise.
So from this morning I am upping the time spent on the exercise bike.
Before the week is out I hope to have increased my morning time from a half hour to one hour.
Maintaining a speed of roughly 30 KPH I usually manage to cycle 16 klms in this time.

This morning I stayed cycling for 45 mts.
I travelled 22.5 klm.
I’ll keep you posted as to progress.