The scales move downward, but only at the slowest of paces. Sometimes they go back up again. But the overriding trend is a downward grind over a period of months and I tell myself that’s all for the best. A slow loss of weight will make it easier to keep it off. All bullshit, of course. Any slight decline in poundage can so easily be undone by a couple of double size Mars bars and a litre of 7-Up.
Still, on we go.
My methodology is low key and old-fashioned logical. Eat
less and exercise more, with neither of these things being done to any great
extremes. Rather like a smoker (which I’ve never been) I have one big vice which it
immediately benefits me to give up. I’ve already alluded to it and we’re only
three paragraphs in. I will eat loads of rubbish and sugary things, if left
unchecked. So I’ve checked it. The rubbish is out of the equation and, like the
smoker, I can feel better by making that one adjustment alone. Add to that a
drive to eat smaller meals with no in-betweens and that’s the full extent of my
calorie-reducing regime. As for exercise, I do what I’ve always done except I
try to do a bit more of it. I walk. I always walk quite a bit anyway but now I
throw in an extra quota of walking whenever I can.
That’s all I do. You can tell I’m no expert, nor am I a
person driven to weight loss excellence. I just want to continue a slow decline
into Christmas then hope to fuck I can get through that festive season without piling
it all on again in one short week. If I had one word of insight or help to anyone
who is thinking of doing the same, I would offer that fact that every half
pound lost feels like a victory and evokes a little increase in self-esteem. You
don’t have to become Where’s Wally to feel like a success at this game, however
misguided that may be.
None of which is the point of this week’s post.
Some of the walking I do is around our local lake. We have a
designated pathway around half of the lake, a circuit with two bridges, and it
is the best thing since sliced bread. Peace, nature, a view of the reek in the
distance, ducks, swans, reeds gently swaying in the breeze, wild flowers,
little dogs, big dogs, smiling people… it’s a good place for a walk. There’s a
car park you drive into, along with all the other cars, and you set off in one
direction and you arrive back from the other direction (in the nature of
circuits all over the world) and it takes about 25 minutes to get around so you
go around twice or even three times. It’s all good.
But, just lately, as an added bonus, I’ve started parking in
another car park which adjoins the lake path in an altogether different
location. This public car park is much less used and parking my car there gives me the feeling
that I have my own private access to this most public of places. It also has a
remarkable, hard-to-define bit of loveliness that makes it a slice of heaven for me.
Gravel. It has gravel.
You heard, the car park is finished with lovely, crunchy,
loose stone rather than the utilitarian tarmac of the main car park. And shoot
me if you want, but I bloody love gravel. That crunch underfoot is one of my
favourite things in the whole world, seconded only by the crunch under my tyres
as my car pulls in. I can’t really say why. That crunchy, cornflake sound just
makes me feel as if I am off the beaten track and away from all the concerns
that come with being in a town or a city. I’m on the gravel, dude, and life
couldn’t be better. Since re-discovering this quiet, tree-lined parking area, my
walks are exponentially better. And, no, I’m not telling you where it is. Sod
off.
As I walk the lake circuit, I’ve got my earbuds in and I’m
listening, listening. What is Ken listening to, the entire population of the lake
wonders (as if!). Is it the very latest scientific or political treatise? Is it
some in depth analysis of the current stare of the Arts?
(Guilty secret incoming.)
Nah, it’s Reacher.
I listen to Reacher books. Not all the time, obviously, but
quite a bit. I’ve often got one on the go and, of late, if I’m on a long drive
or walking our esteemed lake, I’ll have Jack Reacher in my ears, kicking ass in
stereo.
Part of the attraction of my listening to Reacher audiobooks (which I get free from Castlebar Library via Borrow Box) is the person who reads the books. Jeff Harding is the absolute voice of Lee Child’s Reacher books and his rather harsh, uncompromising tone eminently suits the material and, after listening to quite a few, has become like an old friend to me. Jeff imbues Reacher with a voice that is an utterly American blend of capability and wariness and it brings the character to a life in a way that no visual adaptation has come close to doing. Not even that enormous guy on Amazon.
Of course there’s no such thing as a guilty pleasure. Any pleasure we can extract from the world is okay as long as it’s not hurting anybody or putting on weight. Although, if there was one element of the Reacher audiobooks that is a little guilt inducing, it would be the way that Jeff portrays the females in the Reacher books. Jeff is either an extremely macho person or else he is really good at portraying a really macho person. The ladies in the book suffer a tiny bit from this fact because, as Jeff switches from Reacher’s trademark machismo tones, the ladies all fall into a similar vocal pattern that is slightly prissy, matter of fact, and declamatory.
In smaller words, all of Reacher’s women sound
the same. Similarly, the bad guys and authority figures all sound the same too.
They all get a rather weaselly borderline belligerent voice. The overall effect
is that, as Reacher traverses the United States and the wider world in search
of justice and fair play, it sounds rather like he’s meeting the same people
over and over again. Don’t get me wrong, I like all this very much. There is a
comfort in knowing that Reacher’s next lady will sound just like his last one
and the next bad guy will die making rodent noises, just like the last one did.
Reading back, this has been a rather random trek through weight loss, loose gravel, and
voiced anti-heroes and it seems to be of limited value to anyone right-thinking person.
What can I tell you? This is my mind.
'Welcome to it.
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