The pains of letting go...

I guess most of us will have experienced the pain of someone we love not loving us back the way we'd like them to, at some point in our lives.

Michelle and I met properly on a Salvation Army corps retreat some years back, and immediately tuned into each other's sense of fun and playfulness. At that time, she worked in the corps' charity shop and, largely thanks to her encouragement and friendliness, I began working in the adjaccent cafe shortly afterwards; and as a result of this, many people began to put two and two together...

Of course, this appealed to our sense of humour and we decided to play along, and wind them all up! We had weekends away - in Brighton and Llandudno, discovering our deeper selves as we also got to know each other, as we were each able to stimulate the other's somewhat latent self-confidence. Amidst all our uncoventional behaviours - such as walking along the seafront from 2-5am and sitting alone on the back seat of an open-top bus through Snowdonia on a cold damp day - waving and gesturing at strangers like a pair of schoolchildren; we helped each other grow in faith. We share the hobby of people-watching, the characteristic of restlessness, the desire to be on the go as much as possible, discovering new places and yet, all the time just soaking up God's wonderful creation. And we're also rather partial to eating...

Those of you who've been reading through my posts will know that I've lost quite a bit of weight through the Slimming World regime in recent months. It was Michelle that put me onto the idea originally as she herself went a few years back and lost over three stones initially - much to everyone's relief as she is very probably the fattest person that most people will have ever seen, and very is obviously hugely at risk of all manner of serious health problems in consequence.

Alas, it didn't last, and she put it all back on - and more. There have been numerous subsequent attempts - she does it for a few weeks, relapses, and end up heavier than she started out in the first place. I've no real idea how heavy she is these days - people keep asking me this when I share my worries about her with them; the only guide I have is several years old, when she was 28 stone. But as she said herself just the other day, at that time she was able to cycle to and from work, then all around Gosport and back - but for the past couple of years she's not been able to use her bike at all, because the tyres become flat and the wheels buckle, as soon as she gets on board...

What I can offer, by way of size indication, is her dress size - 32. This time last year it was 28 - so perhaps you can understand the extent of the problem, and how much I and others who love and care about her are concerned. Last New Year's Eve, she arrived in Edinburgh with just an old baggy fleece, which indeed she had in St Bees this week too - it's the only item of outer clothing she has that fastens. She looks in vain for a waterproof jacket designed for either sex as mens' clothes are often made bigger and when you get into those sizes it doesn't matter much anyway, but of course she rarely if ever finds anything.

In her better moments, she reflects that what she really needs to do is to lose some weight so that she can fit into her expensive, rarely worn waterproof that she managed to buy from a specialist outlet in Bournemouth a couple of years ago. She did so the other afternoon in fact - adding that she knows how much her weight resticts her and giving opportunity for encouraging interjections about how better her quality of life could be, and how many more places she could go and enjoy; and she even admitted that it will probably take a heart attack or stroke to give her sufficient impetus to do something about it. The trouble is of course, that's always assuming she survives such a attack - which is an outcome that she - poerhaps understandably - doesn't seem to want to consider...

As she was leaving for home at new year, I did tell her that I didn't want the next time I saw her husband and friends to be at her funeral, and she did agree to have another go at losing weight then. Her husband even tried doing it with her, even though he doesn't really need to - but to no avail. She's started, aborted and restarted the slimming plan three times since then...!!

I did moot the idea of contacting Overeaters Anonymous the other day - and it seems her doctor has already betaen me to it, offering a referral to her local group. Alas, she knows some people who already go there (and who, at just over 11 stone, really don't need to), and she doesn't want to go if they're there, which I can understand. That's the trouble with such groups - they really should offer specialist services for the really obese). I might just send her the contact details anyway though. She does qualify for gastric banding on the NHS - she has been offered it umpteen times by various doctors, but refuses to go down that route...

As we were talking about this the other day, it occurred to me that I need to start letting go. I'm not sure exactly what tht entails at this time - but quite clearly, the chances of Michelle seeing the end of the decade are really not very great. Every time we meet and say goodbye, I can't help wondering whether it is for the last time - and I really don't need that kind of pressure in my life. I don't want to lose contact with her of course, and she is the last person I'd want to hurt in any way - but maybe that could be part of a solution? I don't know - I guess I'm just desperate enough to consider all of these thoughts.

She is planning to visit me again in August. Perhaps I need to make it conditional, upon an agreed amout of weight loss, and some exercise? I feel awful for even thinking along these lines, as there's a risk we won't meet and she'll hate me for it - but as it stands, there's an even greater risk that unless somebody can find some kind of bargaining chip that she values more than endless eating out and take-aways, that we won't be seeing each other again anyway.

And yet, who do I think I am? Everyone hoped she'd do it for her new husband, who she married four years ago. But if anything, she's got worse in that time - not least because he does everything for her, and she has even less exercise than before - and of course, greater availability of money to buy yet more food. She is already unable to travel by coach or air - and dislikes modern trains that don't have opening windows, while most of the others are impractical because she simply doesn't fit into any of the seats. Increasingly, this is no longer a matter of mere comfort - it is actually that she quite literally does not fit. The same is true of accommodation - hotels they've booked have turned them away more than once, having mysteriously lost their booking when they've turned up to claim their room. When they visit me, they very considerately choose to sleep upon just the mattress of my bed, on the floor, rather than risk the bed frame. She is even restricted in her choice of cafes and restaurants, as the seating used by many simply will not accommodate either her shape or weight.

What I do know is, I can't handle waiting around for her to die. I need to think of something!!

Cumbria & the English Lake District

I have just returned from a short break in the Lake District with my friend, Michelle. We had a caravan at Seacote Park, St Bees - a beautiful setting indeed, spotlessly clean, well equipped, nice and warm and staffed with people that just couldn't do enough for you - highly recommended, in other words!

Apart from a short distance to the south of Ravenglass - of which I'd no real memory as it was over 20 years ago, I'd never been along the Cumbrian Coast before. That's no mean feat for me as I like to travel along the railways - and there's not many bits of the UK network left that I haven't done at some stage! It is quite an experience - jointed track, mechanical, semaphore signals & signal boxes, pretty stations, old signs, lanterns, buildings etc - all with the usual atmosphere of advanced decay; especially around Workington, which was obviously heavily industrialised until quite recently. And unlike the majority of so-called 'coast' lines, this one really does hug the coast for much of the way - built quite literally upon the sea wall in many places. And to cap it all, the southern part especially has a backdrop of wonderful, dramatic mountain scenery - all of which is absolute paradise as far as I'm concerned!

My one and only previous trip to the Lakes was in June 1985, just before my 21st birthday. I'm afraid my memory had faded rather more than I'd thought. All I remember of the jourmey there is a fleeting glimpse of the Windermere branch railway as it descends from the main line at Oxenholme! I know we did catch the 555 bus from there to Keswick, and then the 77 to the youth hostel at Longthwaite (Borrowdale), where we spent the night - and I got up early in the morning and went outside to wash my hair in the stream that runs in front; yet I don't remember actually making that journey...

Then I remember our walk - it must have been on the 17th June - the day before my birthday - very clearly indeed. Up the dead-end road past Seatoller to Seathwaite, then up a track to a mountain col, where there was a big tin box which, according to the map, contained a mountain rescue kit - I assume it's still there; then down a long path on the south slope of Green Gable with views of a helicopter rescue taking place on the north slope of Sca Fell - near a waterfall known as Taylorgill Force; and eventually down to Wasdale Head, where we stopped for lunch; before ascending again, over to Boot, and the narrow-gauge railway to Ravenglass...

We'd arranged to meet friends there - who were staying with another friend of theirs, who had one of the four cottages between the two railway stations - it is still instantly recognisable. I shared a birthday with one of them, and he did a joint meal for us - which I don't remember a great deal about, save for it having many courses including sorbet, fish, and an enormous, extremely boozy pavlova with mountains of cream. And, late at night, we wandered outside for fresh air, looking over the darkness of the sandy river estuary...

And on the Sunday, we were driven to Ulverston to catch the train for some reason. Perhaps there was no Sunday service to Barrow-in-Furness (there still isn't); and I've a vague idea there might also have been engineering works between there and Ulverston. But which route our drive took is anyone's guess, as I retain no memory of it whatsoever!

It's funny how your memory plays those tricks on you, isn't it...?

Mobile phones again!

Having left saying that she might put some credit on it and use both mobiles until she got use to the new one, I had a call from my mum last night - she'd discovered how to check how much existing credit there was - and there was £19.92! Methinks she's done rather well out of this!!

Mobile phones - and suchlike!

It is only 6am, and my head is already buzzing...!!

It seems my mother's mobile handset is no longer cool - even for a 65 year old. All her friends have newer, smaller, lighter models apparently - supplied by family members who have themselves had upgrades. Whether any of the said friends are actually able to see - or work - these new handsets, she hasn't actually said...

Now, inadvisedly I'm sure, I've always had contract mobiles - so I'm just assuming that the theory is the same with pay as you go handsets. You charge the new handset, get it unlocked if it is designed to be used with a different network from the one you normally use, swap the SIM cards, and away you go basically - am I right?

And if you want to keep your original phone number - which I can guarantee you my mum will, you have to ring your network for some number that I can't even recall the name of, right?

You see, one of the reasons I have a contract phone is, they do all this stuff for you! Because I just don't understand all this at all!!

Unfortunately, knowing that doesn't stop my mother expecting me to be able to advise her - and all I can really say is, 'we'll take it to the shop'!

I'm very much an 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' sort of guy you see. All those folk out there claim to be totally committed to recycling - but not, it seems, to mobile handsets which, so far as I can see, they change every five minutes...

The fact that the last time something went wrong she took it back to the shop for repair - and ever since, has suspected the handset that was returned isn't the same one that was deposited, really doesn't help - it could only happen to my mother!!

Anyway, it occured to me the other day that Winnie - an old lady at church - had given me two new mobile handsets a few months back, despite my best protests that I didn't need them. Not only that, but also a camera and MP3 player - and I can't work them, either! Hence they've all sat in their boxes, in the back of my cupboard ever since - I'd all but forgotten about them, and indeed only found them whilst looking for something else the other day...

(At 82, Winnie's expectations of my ability to understand what all these things are for - let alone how to work them - are even worse than my mother's. She keeps arriving with CD-ROM drivers and manuals, insisting I take them because I have a computer. I just can't get her to understand that they're absolutely no use unless you want to use the appliance they refer to with your computer, and that they're no use otherwise. But, as far as she's concerned, I have a computer and she hasn't, so they're more likely to be of some use to me...).

So, the upshot is that both new handsets are now charged - I did that overnight. Neither will so much as turn on without spending several hours browsing through instructions - that I really don't have; and of course, neither are on my mother's (Virgin) network so far as I can make out - though one of them seems to be locked in German language anyway - so I've not a clue what it says!!

"So why doesn't she just change over to one of the other networks," I hear you say. "What's so special about Virgin?"

Well, she has £27 credit on her existing handset you see. This, for the woman who sends at best, two or three texts a week and only ever makes any calls in an emergency. There really is nothing like obsessive 'just in case' topping-up, is there?

And you know what? As soon as she realises she'll have to use some of her credit to advise all her contacts of a number change, she'll decide not to bother anyway...!!

And if on the offchance she does start to use one of them, she'll be on the phone every five minutes asking me how to do this or that - and I won't have a clue, nor any way of finding out - as she'll have the instructions by then as well.

So I'm just consoling myself here with an earful of Shirley Bassey as I type! It's going to be an interesting day, I fear. Better nip out for some migraine pills, I reckon...

new shoes

Why are new shoes always so difficult to break in? Is it compulsory that they have to redden, then skin both your heels and show you who's boss, before they start feeling remotely comfortable?

For the past few years I've had no such problems - Millet's has supplied me with Pennine walking Shoes - 100% waterproof, polishable black and brown lace ups which I fit into like slippers. Alas, they've stopped making them; and so here I am in a surprisingly tight pair of Clark's.

"Wear them in the house for a few days," said the shop assistant, "and if they still feel overly tight you can always bring them back."

That was fine - I've worn them all evening twice now with no problems. But even just nipping to the end of the street to collect my laundry has resulted in sore heels!! Am I missing something, here??

It had to happen sooner or later I suppose...

As of yesterday, I am the proud owner of TWO pairs of glasses - one for distance and general use, and one for reading. It was either that, bifocals or varifocals - neither of which I fancied learning to walk in just at the moment - as I'm reliably assured that seeing through your first pair is the least of your problems...

Added to the grey hair and missing teeth - I suspect I may be getting old.

But hey, I'm still 2 stones lighter than at the start of the year - and with a bit of luck I'll be 4 stones lighter by the end of it!

Brace yourselves, world, the new me is heading your way!!!

They don't call us 'the barmy army' for nothing...

'Barmy' isn't a word you hear very often in Scotland. Maybe it was a regional thing - and in any case, I reckon it was probably some time ago now, back in more innocent times - when The Salvation Army was referred to by some as 'The Barmy Army'.

But, never let it be said that, whatever it may jokingly be called these days, The Salvation Army doesn't deserve such a description - which I suspect was always more affectionate and light-hearted, than critical; as I arrived at DHQ this morning, just in time to join the assembled team in a ten-minute discussion about spiders - featuring overgrown boys doing their best to scare female colleagues with their suggestions that their biggest, hairiest clockwork specimens might just make an unannounced appearance at some point in the future...!

I suppose it at least it proves we're as human as anyone else - and hopefully you'll be pleased to note that, we did get down to prayers eventually.