I had my first Christmas dinner yesterday. This morning I topped the 200 pounds mark. This year has been a poor year for the Hamblin shape. Last year I was down below 190 having reached 210 in 2004. I even had 2 inches taken in from the waist of every pair of trousers.
I know the remedy. Eat less and exercise more. The problem is, I like eating and dislike exercise.
That's not entirely true. Exercise can be exhilarating. When I am fit, a brisk walk on the beach, a cycle through the forest or even a jog to the hospital sends the adrenaline zinging round the body and leaves me with a warm glow, but getting fit: there's the rub. I gave up my gym membership in 2005; my daily cycle trip was sufficient to keep me losing about half a pound a week while cutting out bread and limiting potatoes to one a day. Then came Christmas. I like nuts. Nobody else does. Someone had to eat them.
If you were brought up under post-war austerity you were taught to leave nothing behind on your plate. It is hard to drill yourself into tasting a bit of this and a bit of that and leaving the plate fairly full, especially at Christmas. But that's what must be done.
Today I am fasting. Tomorrow as I sit in the British Airways executive lounge waiting for my flight to Orlando I must avoid the smoked salmon sandwiches and the claret. I must eschew the free glass of champagne as I get on the plane. I must get up and walk around the cabin.
I must keep repeating this mantra: Let it go to waste or else it will go to waist.