Poetry

Sometimes to struggle not to get distracted at home. So far today, for example, I have made myself multiple cups of tea, surfed the internet, tidied up a bit and I even fell asleep on the sofa for an hour (in my defence I have a banging headache and am quite tired).

In order to focus my mind I thought I'd have yet another cup of tea, but this time in a cafe while reading my new book about poetry and making notes (so I look like I'm doing something important). The nearest cafe to me is Seraphins' on Abbeydale Road so I popped in and sat down with my cuppa.

For the next hour I drank tea, ate the most delicious salted caramel brownie probably in the world ever and pretended to read my book. I also had a chat with the owner about how to help the lady behind me remove a stuck ring and watched a video on You Tube.  I posted a photo of the delicious cake to Instagram and Twitter. A little boy arrived and distracted me further by being flipping cute and having a garbled toddler chat with me.

On the way out I was requested to give the little boy a fist bump which I did, with panache frankly.

The whole thing was extremely lovely. But not very conducive to me concentrating. I've decided if I want lovely food and drink I'll go to Seraphin's, but if I want to write poetry I may have to find a cafe with worse food, less customers and miserable staff.

Moving More

Two weeks ago I decided I would put my Fitbit back on. I haven't been wearing it for the simple reason that if I drive to work, which I have admittedly been doing for months and months now, I only ever walk about 5,000 steps in a day. There are few chances to exercise in a small HR office. When I wore my Fitbit it told me on a daily basis how I hadn't walked 10,000 steps. No-one likes to be criticised that regularly.

As a result of a freakish moment of commitment the Fitbit is now back and I am walking to work most days. This means I manage 10,00 steps most days too. I managed 13,000 on a day where I barely left the house but did shed loads of cleaning. I could do this instead of walking but the cleaning thing only works if I don't do any for at least 3 months prior which leaves me with a quite a few days where I'm a bit under target.

On the days where I've had to drive I have been guilty of syncing my Fitbit in my pyjamas and running on the spot because nothing is more satisfying than the three seconds when your wrist buzzes before you collapse into bed sweating.

One day in the pursuit of steps I even went running. That was until I met a friend walking her dog in the park. We spent so long talking I'd quite lost the enthusiasm for running but I still had to walk home. Since this is the same amount of steps I figured it didn't matter all that much.

My best day yet I wracked up 18,000 steps by walking to work and going to a Bellowhead gig.  In reality I suspect there were  quite a few claps plus a few air punches added in for good measure, all increasing my total. Maybe clapping is as good for you as walking.

Today I was hopeful of achieving a good number of steps by walking around shops on Abbeydale Road (I accidentally ended up eating a scone and coming home with a pair of boots and a new handbag but the numbers all add up don't they? ). It was only mid massive walk around Longshaw this afternoon that I noticed the Fitbit was actually flat and thinks I did 70 steps today. Brilliant, what a waste of time all that walking around waterfalls was.

It's back on charge overnight, which actually isn't a bad thing because it seems to have also set me a target for sleeping. It's bad enough being criticised for not moving enough, but being criticised for not sleeping enough seems very unfair. One day out of fourteen it flashed up with "Hooray you have met your sleeping target today". I felt buoyed for five seconds until I realised it really isn't that much of a success and, in fact, the 13 days weren't in any way an actual failure. Yey go me I slept eight hours last night. Anyone want to sponsor me?

So I'm trying. Moving more and in the process shopping more and eating more cake in tea shops. Win.

Cycling

You know that thing about it being like riding a bike? Half true.

I think it's been about 15 years since I rode a bike.Well apart from a brief weekend at Centre Parcs four years ago where I was left with a numb arse and no real desire to repeat the experience.

It's certainly been forever since I rode on a road. Largely because traffic in Sheffield is mental.

But car parking charges, petrol and my lack of waistline made me rethink. My husband cycles. People in Sheffield cycle. What's wrong with me?

I bought a bike.

I stood for thirty minutes in a well respected bike shop in Sheffield with cash in my pocket. I was completely ignored for the whole time while both of the only two members of staff on a Saturday afternoon discussed a very expensive bike with a customer who was clearly going to go home and try and buy one on Ebay. The difference was she cared about suspension and gave them the opportunity to show off. I wanted the cheapest bike they sold that would get from a to, well, b. I'm not trying to enter the Tour De France or anything.

So I took my money to Edinburgh Bicycle Company. It only took five minutes there before someone realised I needed help and I rather bluntly stated that I had £300 and five minutes to buy a bike to get me to work. I bought the cheapest bike in the shop. Everyone was happy.

It was only when I went to pick it up  a few days later that the commitment I had made hit me. This wasn't going to be all that easy. Obviously I knew I wouldn't have forgotten how to ride a bike, but I live off Abbeydale Road and even at 2.30pm the traffic is challenging.

I wobbled round the car park and cycled to the curb. I got off and walked it quite a long way up the road. I waved at some staff from work playing football and tried to pretend there was some reason why I had a bike but chose not to ride it. I was unconvincing.

Around the corner I braced myself and pulled out. Apparently I had gears. It was just a shame the one I was in was not the best for setting off in traffic. I tried to look like I knew what I was doing and deceived no-one. There is no bus lane at 2.30 so I wobbled and weaved around parked cars in fourth gear while frantically trying to work out how to change down and what on earth that other lever was for.

I got off again and crossed the road at the pedestrian crossing.

I didn't feel terribly confident so it was a while before I got back on the bike and set off up Carterknowle Road. Which is far too steep. I got off again.

A bin lorry filled the road so I decided to cycle on the pavement. Which is clearly illegal. I ran out of puff. I got off and walked home.

But you know what? You have to start somewhere. In my case I started half a mile from my house and mostly walked.