I hated these harsh days of January. Everyone’s on the dry, the pubs are empty, there isn’t a sticky bun to be got and you’re at nothing if you don’t have a long face and a tale of woe to tell.
As you know, I was volunteered to take part in a local version of Operation Transformation. Against my better instincts I had to sign on for it. The weigh-in took place at the hall on 7 January and the news wasn’t too good. I hit the scales at 247lbs, that’s 17stone, 9lbs and 10 ounces for those born before the Apollo moon landing, and 112kg for those of you more familiar with the weight of bullocks.