Allotment, weight, exercise

Sunday saw me back on the allotment. It's peaceful down there: there are trains going past and planes and cars in the distance, but the birdsong is clear and the area is in enough of a cutting for the air to be quite still most of the time. I've planted the other two sets of potatoes (early Charlottes and Epicures), built my very first raised bed frame (well almost; I miscounted the timber slightly so it's a frame minus one plank at the moment) and put Hwngos sorrel seeds into it (they'll need the protection; they're tiny onionseedy things that look like they wouldn't survive a fight with a miniature carrot). I forgot to hide the big tools so they'll probably not be there when I get back, but at least they didn't cost much (Asda are good like that); I'm starting to accept theft from an inner-town allotment as a normal fact of life.

My weight? Well, I'm about to go running as part of my grab exercise when I can strategy (busy night tonight and a short lunchtime means that now's the time today); the weight today is -tada- 174.6lbs. So. Under the 175 and aiming now for the 165 via the 170. Each day, another challenge. But today a chance to be a teeny big smug about having met the first one. Inch by inch, block by block. But seriously, this is a good thing for sometimes the strangest of reasons: like the pattern I'm using in my needlework class being big enough for my bust but a centimetre smaller than my waist. And jokes about becoming square aside, it's little things like that that form the basis of fitting properly into ones world. And if the only thing I need to do to do that is get a little fitter and lose a little weight, well hey, that's hardly a big penalty on my life. Onwards...