Letters in the Attic
So that's our family Christmas tree stripped and loaded into the back of the car, ready to be driven to the recycling point tomorrow morning. Every year at this time I write a short letter which I hide with the tree fairy as we pack the decorations back into the attic. This tradition started as a weight-loss incentive four years ago. Along with general tittle-tattle and family gossip, we'd also record our weight and make a prediction as to how much we'd have lost by the time December came around again.
This year I hang my head in shame. At 16 stone 10, I'm the heaviest I've ever been. Nothing to do with festive excess. I blame my job! I was appointed Head of Radio on the 10th of January last year and all those weird hours and extra train travel inhibit the opportunities for healthy eating. Also, I'm addicted to dark chocolate. And fried breakfasts. And fish suppers.
So, logically, the fitness regime should start on the 10th January this year.
I've bought a new bicycle and I might even take up a new sport. I'll ask the Sports Weekly team to recommend something for me. Personally, I fancy darts.
