Time to push the reset button…

It’s been a while since I dusted off my keyboard and put my thoughts down via this blog. In truth, I haven’t felt terribly engaged nor have I had much that seemed worth writing down. And that’s ironic, because the blog has never been a means of self-promotion. At least, if it was, I’ve done a pretty useless job of it!

There have been times when there has been so much happening that this was a useful means of recording everything that was going on - Ros’s wildly successful campaign to become Party President, for example. And, as a means of recording my travels, and my thoughts as I visited various weird or unlikely places, a blog is hard to beat, especially if you can include some photographs.

It hasn’t helped that I feel increasingly semi-detached from Party politics. That’s partly a result of events locally, but it also reflects a growing sense that the way our country is run is corrupted. How do you respond to a political scene where people not just seemingly condone dishonesty but actively vote for more of it? As someone who has a powerful belief in order and process as being core to the running of society and, in particular, civil society, watching this Government has been pretty painful.

And the pandemic has encouraged the slightly reclusive part of me that is always there. I like people, and find them never-endingly interesting, but can occasionally find myself comfortable with relatively little interaction. Not travelling to work has accelerated that process too.

In short, my world has shrunk, with me as a willing accomplice.

That makes it sound as though I’m unhappy, or depressed, but that isn’t really so. I find happiness in things that I might once have taken for granted - a home cooked dinner, prepared with Ros, or a nice walk. I’ve also gotten to spend more time with Ros, which has been one of the better impacts of the pandemic. Travel would be nice though…

And so, I’m going to try to reset things, and see if I can’t shake off some of the dust that has accumulated over the past couple of years.

But first, some running repairs…

Eight hundred and forty-six days, and still counting...

When I started my original “Building a Better Walrus” programme at the beginning of 2016, the intention was to walk 10,000 steps each day. It was, if you like, an aspiration which soon turned into something rather more serious. And, as the days went by, the idea of not reaching my target became rather like an obsession. That was, until I contracted food poisoning in Cuba and was confined to a sofa for three days.

I’d managed forty-five straight days of 10,000 steps and was feeling quite proud of myself, and was determined to get back into my stride, so to speak. My first day back wasn’t pretty as a rather pale and shaky bureaucrat ambled slowly around our beach resort. That was February 18, 2016.

I haven’t missed a day since.

Admittedly, I’ve had to be pretty creative at times. Walking around the promenade deck of a small cruise ship forty-eight times was one solution on the day we didn’t go ashore due to the lack of shore. Airports have become a means to cover distances rather than buy duty-free. And I am often seen walking up and down station platforms if I get to the station early enough. You never know, after all, what might stand in your way later in the day, so better to get those steps in early.

And one interesting side effect is that, as I am able to walk further, I become more likely to do so, and have taken to walking journeys that would have seemed onerous before. For example, when I come to London for FIRC meetings, I walk from Liverpool Street to Westminster, varying my route according to the time available. Last time, I crossed the Millenium Bridge for the first time and followed the South Bank from there to Westminster - it’s a rather pleasant stroll.

Best of all, everywhere feels so much closer, something which became obvious after two Spring Conferences in York. The first time, one tended not to walk as much whilst, a year later and somewhat lighter, on the second trip, we tended to arrive at places rather earlier than expected.

Now I acknowledge that walking isn’t for everyone - friends of mine have a variety of methods for keeping, or getting, active - but if, like me, you’re not keen on rushing about, a gentle stroll is quite a nice way of stirring the blood. And if you happen to have some leaflets, all the better...

Things that I have learned from being a member of a gym

Now that I've been a member of a gym for three months or so - and no, that's not showing off, as I'm still a walrus - some things are becoming apparent.

Firstly, I'm really not young any more. My fellow gym users are, for the most part, in their late teens and twenties, except those who are clearly there to build vast muscles that make them look a bit like bison. Each to their own on that one, I think.

Secondly, the music they play in gyms is suited to people who go to Ibiza to dance and party. That isn't me. However, unless I invest in some serious headphones, or find a gym that plays chamber music whilst one works out, I'm just going to have to put up with that.

Next, tattoos. I don't have one, and this clearly puts me in a fairly small minority, at least within the subgroup described as male users of Klick Fitness in Ipswich. Some of them have lots - it's the sort of thing that one can't help but notice. I'm still not tempted...

And then there's what to do to keep your mind occupied whilst you work out, especially if, like me, you are attempting to burn fat and rebuild aerobic capacity, rather than look like a bison. I tend, for now, to do arithmetic calculations in my head (yes, I know...), but if anyone has any better ideas...

Finally, and much to my surprise, I'm actually beginning to enjoy it a little. Not hugely, as the temptation to opt out is still there, but a little. Perhaps, inside this walrus is a leopard seal waiting to get out?...

Building a better walrus, one invisible cheese sandwich at a time...

I have remarked in the past that I am more walrus than gazelle, and those of you who know me (and are honest), will accept that this is true. And whilst I like walruses (and what's not to like?), being more gazelle-like is likely to enhance the quality of my life. Well. probably, anyway.

Not Ros, and not actually me. But isn't he cute?

And so, with more than a touch of apprehension, I have embarked on a quest to change from walrus to, if not gazelle, then at least something slightly smaller and more streamlined.

I started with a diet which, I must admit, has gone well. I have shown rather more discipline than I had feared would be the case, and have lost a quite acceptable amount of weight in just nine weeks. Indeed, I have lost the amount that I promised Ros that I would lose by Christmas already.

Alright, it has not been without sacrifice. I have given up quite a lot of red meat, most of the cheese in my diet and much of the alcohol that I might otherwise consume. I have found myself scanning menus for things that are less damaging, even though they might not be quite my first choice. It has, in short, not entirely been fun.

I have taken to walking during my lunch break, something which is less trying because I don't actually eat lunch generally anyway. When in London, I set off from the training centre in random directions to see what I can find - it's been rather interesting so far.

And now, in the most unexpected step yet, I've joined a gym, something which will bring some joy to my father. I've even gone, which is nice, and I'll write about that before very long.

The effect has been interesting. I have gained a little more confidence, and a touch more energy, and whilst I am no more than a slightly more svelte walrus so far, my clothes are looser and my pace a little faster.

I do kind of miss the cheese sandwiches though...

This is going to sound like goodbye...

It's been a bit hectic over the past seven years. Having returned to UK party politics after a number of years on the sidelines, I threw myself into the deep end and hoped that an inability to swim wouldn't be fatal.

And now I know the result. Six years as a Regional Officer, three years as first consort to the candidate and then  to the President, an election campaign of my own and all manner of stuff besides, left me seventy pounds heavier and vaguely annoyed that, despite the fact that I know that I'm making sense, people who should be paying attention aren't, this causing me grief in attempting to make up for their inadequacies. I've also begun to forget that Liberal Democrats don't have a monopoly on virtue.

Meanwhile, the rest of my life is happy, rewarding and increasingly seductive. I do things that are, whisper it softly, fun. I don't spend my weekends attending stupid meetings of English Council, or feeling guilty that I haven't carried out some task that nobody actually cares about but really ought to be done. Best of all, when someone tells me that it would be great if I did something that would help them out but does nothing for me, I simply don't do it (unless, like Auntie Helen, I like them). I don't have to do bureaucracy, but can instead think about stuff, the bigger picture, why the sky is so blue, random things that intrigue me.

This week, I'm on holiday. Now, for those of you that know me, you might expect there to be a big metal tube with wings involved, as Ros and I jet off to somewhere unexpected. Not this time. Instead, I'm having a Suffolk week - I'll tell you all about that another time. It's gentle, and we're catching up with old friends, seeing parts of the county I haven't seen before, visiting some of the places that make our little corner of rural England so special. And I'm not missing you. Not 'you' as in individuals - I'm rather fond of some of you, for different reasons - but you, as a Party. I'm still a liberal, I'm still a democrat, and I'm certainly not handing in my membership card, up for renewal in January.

But I'm a bit burnt out. I should have realised this, when faced with the task of getting my photograph submitted, I just didn't get round to it. Booking a hotel just seemed like an expensive hassle, for an event I wasn't thrilled about. So, I'm not going. I'm up for re-election as Regional Secretary in October. But actually, I don't want to do it anymore. So, I'm not standing for re-election.

Politics has been my life for seven years, and it has lost some of its appeal. But I am still a Parish councillor, something which gives me a great deal of pleasure, I have a life which has put a smile back on my face, I have my Suffolk activities, my family and my work with Unlock Democracy, a job which remains curiously fulfilling, and, most of all, I have Ros.

So, it's time to interact with the Party on my terms for a bit, to take a deep breath and slow down to a pace more of my suiting. There are some things that I'd like to do, if people will let me, and we'll see how those pan out. And, of course, I'll still be supporting Ros in what she does - and very important that's going to be too - so I'm hardly retiring into obscurity.

And then I'll be back, possibly with that slightly bemused look as I potter about, but with a twinkle in my eye, a smile and a kind word for my friends, and a proper sense of proportion for the vagaries of party politics.

It's official - I'm relaxed

So, as advised by the optician, I had arranged to have my blood pressure checked. Let's be honest, I'm out of shape, eat badly and enjoy the occasional real ale. My job is a sedentary one, and if it wasn't for the Wii Fit, I probably wouldn't get much exercise apart from leaflet delivery.

I was therefore, not unreasonably, expecting a bit of an alarm call, so you can imagine my surprise when the reading was 119 over 84 (normal being 120 over 80), with a resting pulse rate of 62. There is, it seems, no justice in the world...

Should seeing David Beckham in his Dolce & Gabbana scanties make me feel inadequate?

Yesterday's 'Observer' included an article that I noted with a somewhat jaundiced eye. Apparently, we men are being made to feel less than adequate by comparing ourselves with men like David Beckham and, especially for my old friend and irredeemable Gooner, Sara Bedford, Freddie Ljungberg in their expensive designer underwear. Hmmm... perhaps we might understand how some young women feel when they look at fashion magazines...

For all Gunners fans out there...

Well, no, not really. David and Freddie, to take two of the most prominent examples, are professional athletes. They are paid to spend their time training, working out etc, and they have no other professional obligation. Had I been a professional footballer, I would probably had a body like that. Instead, I have the muscular power of a bureaucrat, largely centred on my fingers and designed for pen pushing and telephone dialling. The rest of me needs work, that's true, but I prefer pork to press-ups, cheese to cross training.

So I'm one of the lucky ones. When I see a vast poster of David Beckham in his stylish but hugely expensive underwear, I think, "Heavens, he's been putting in the hours!", not, "I wish that I had a body like that.". There is something to be said for being realistic...

Another gorgeous day in the South Seas

Welcome to Nadi, where I'm taking time out from my busy schedule of sunbathing, reading, drinking the occasional dip in the pool and drinking the odd cold beer or two to do a little light shopping and reconnect with the outside world.

Of course, I've never been terribly good at doing absolutely nothing at all. However, I have another two weeks of this booked in August so it could be looked upon as orientation. So, you see, I'm actually working very hard. You're not convinced, I can tell...

I did do a little shopping in Lautoka, buying two shirts intended to frighten or blind my fellow colleagues at the office and elsewhere, but my biggest success was to get my hair and beard cut - very short. I look reasonably good, I think. The locals were a bit surprised to see me wander in, but I slotted straight into the vital conversation taking place (England or Argentina for the World Cup?) and, for F$5, I thought I got a good deal.

Next stop, Las Vegas, where it is 106 degrees. I'm not planning to go outside unless it's absolutely necessary...