I came back from Hong Kong to the inevitable mountain of mail, including one small Jiffybag, hidden amongst a heap of catalogues and circulars.
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| Rubber tips for my hiking poles |
I gave a wry smile as I opened it up and tipped out the contents. Two small rubber caps that fit on the metal spikes of my hiking poles so that the poles can be used in an urban environment without slipping and sliding.
This was a symbolic moment, because you may remember that when I was living in Italy, my use of hiking poles had been met with much hilarity from the locals and cries of "You've forgotten your skis!"
The charity runners who raced past my front door in Lincoln last month had included Nordic Walkers, who strode effortlessly along with their rubber-tipped hiking poles. They had inspired me to think again about tackling my girth and my overall lack of fitness. I decided that it was time that I should put away my bus pass and walk, not ride.
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| The last time I'd carried a back-pack I was a 16 year-old, hiking from Sarajevo to Jablanica in Bosnia /Herzegovina |
With this in mind, I'd ordered these rubber caps on-line before I went to Hong Kong .
Now I had no more excuses.
However, it wasn't until I reached the checkout and started loading my purchases into my back-pack that I realised that a bargain 5kg mini-sack of onions actually weighed 5kg.
Once I paid for my carrots, cheese, cabbages, milk, strong flour for bread-making, and tins of tomatoes, my little back-pack was fast approaching the weight limit for a suitcase on a Club Class air ticket.
LIDL tries to persuade customers to put their purchases back in the trolley and then wheel them across to a packing area where there is a wide shelf for sorting out your shopping. For me, this proved to be a godsend, because once my shopping was stored away, there was no way I could lift the pack. I had to crouch down with my back to the shelf and wriggle my arms through the straps. Then I stood up and wobbled slightly before stabilising myself with my hiking poles and making my way out to the car park.
I set off homewards, but was seduced by the sight of a bus-stop. I was afraid that if I slipped and fell I would just lie on the pavement waiting for a robust, weight-lifting Good Samaritan.
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| Rescued by my little green bus |
I flagged down the little bus and the driver waved me in without asking for my bus-pass. It must have been clear to him that this breathless, staggering man was of pensionable age. He probably thought that it might take me 5 minutes to fumble around through my pockets for the relevant document, and he wanted to get down to the bus-station on schedule.
I had to keep my pack on my back, so sitting down was not an option. Thanks to my shopping, I was totally unstable, and stood, clinging tightly to the rails as the bus veered round corners. I did my best to maintain an air of casual nonchalance, not wanting to admit that the vertebrae of my back were in danger of rearranging themselves. I loosed my grip on the rail just long enough to press the bell, and stepped off with a smile that disguised a pale grimace.
Next time I shall buy less. And there will be lots of next times because, though I hate to admit it, I feel really good for having taken the exercise, and I've been out every day since.
And it's so much healthier than doing the ironing.
