A couple of months ago I received an invitation from our Medical Centre to pop in with a sample of urine (mine I presume) and a couple of jars of blood, one to be taken after fastening for twelve hours! Apparently as I was about to turn 50 they wanted to check out a few things. Of course being a man I have not been yet. Mrs BW asks me every day when I will be making the appointment, and I reply unconvincingly that I’ll probably do it soon. She gives me the look that says – no you won’t. Stop telling me lies. I can see I am going to have to do this for you –
Of course I know I ought to go,and having to fast for twelve hours isn’t such a hardship. But I suppose I can’t face the facts. I am overweight, but quite fit, well not a total slob, I drink too much, eat the wrong things, can’t sleep, worry, and suffer pains in most of the major limb joints. I know what they will say. Cut down the booze, cut out the dripping and salt, take proper exercise, like running on a treadmill rather than puffing round a muddy field after a bag of wind, occasionally getting flattened by some large lump when you accidentally come into contact with the ball. They will try and make me come back to be checked out and they will tut tut and suggest that I am not taking this seriously, when the scales stubbornly refuse to show progress.
Of course they are right. I ought to go, I am after all at “that age”.
I’ll do it next week.!
Right time for a bottle of wine and a bag of crisps. I wonder if there are still chocolate biscuits left in the tin.