Fortunately I’m not dieting. I’m not a fan of such things and think that they are unsustainable. I just want to be more healthy, make sure I get a break from my desk and generally just give myself a bit of time to clear my head each day. I was doing this at the end of last year anyway and so, fortunately, this is not a New Year’s resolution or else it would be very depressing. There is no way that I am eating to excess, it just seems that eating more healthily and getting regular exercise seems to have pretty much no impact on me. Perhaps I defy medical science? Perhaps I am just a bit slow on the take up? Maybe my body needs to catch up with itself and understand that what I am doing should make a difference?
For years I used to go for an hours walk every lunch time and then, basically connected to stuff going wrong with A, I stopped and took up rather more of a sedentary lifestyle. But I’m hopeful that by walking for at least half an hour on my lunch break, plus the walk to and from the station each day might actually begin to get me back to where I was at a couple of years ago. If all else fails though, I will have to consider starting to amputate limbs. Perhaps I’ll go for a few more walks on my lunch break before making a decision on that one though.
Anyway... reading The End of the Affair is going ok so far and it is a very engaging and really well written book. I think I’m heading towards the more traumatic bits though. Without going into the whole plot of the book, the main characters in the book Maurice Bendrix and Sarah had an affair a couple of years back and Sarah suddenly and unexpectedly breaks off contact with Bendrix and he never has any idea why and it has tormented him ever since. Then one day they see each other briefly, in the presence of her husband and they then speak on the phone and arrange to meet in a few days time.
“I sat with the telephone receiver in my hand and looked at hate like an ugly and foolish man whom one did not want to know. I dialled her number, I must have caught her before she had time to leave the telephone, and said “Sarah. Tomorrow’s all right. I’d forgotten something. Same place. Same time.” And sitting there my fingers on the quiet instrument, with something to look forward to. I thought to myself: I remember. This is what hope feels like.”