My apples…

Back in March, when I started this latest blogging journey, I wrote a post called ‘Planting Apple Trees’. I used Blogger to publish it (I didn’t get on well with Blogger, so here I am), and the full article can be found here.

In essence, the post was about my overcoming depression to move my life along and try to build for the future. It was triggered by a quote: “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree” that spoke to me quite deeply. I summarised what that it had done for me: “studying is my version of planting apple seeds in spite of what’s going on at the moment, ready for the time when I can use the fruits productively”. However, study was not the only me-project I was working on.

Toward the end of last year, around November I think, and into this year, I started working on my weight and physical fitness. In March last year, I weighed in at 98kg (about 15½ stones…way overweight for my height and build).

When I started this work, I’d improved and weighed in at 89kg, which is still too much apparently. I hadn’t done much in truth, just started taking the calorific content of my food into account when selecting stuff to eat. I didn’t monitor weight (didn’t have any scales) nor did I track consumption verses energy usage. I had no exercise regime except to occasionally go for a walk ‘round the block. However, I’d set myself a target of 85kg initially, and now a final 80kg.

One measure of my unfitness always amused my daughter and I while we were in Brighton. I may have mentioned that we walk a lot in Brighton, and encounter lots of hills, ramps, and stairs. One set of stairs in particular is the subject of at least an annual photo: it’s the stairs that take you from Marine Parade down to Madeira Drive just be for you get to Concorde 2, where we visit every August Bank Holiday Monday for their Alternative Notting Hill Carnival

The 84 Steps

These are the stairs in question, from the top taken in July when I visited with my son, Antony. Antony and I didn’t try to walk up, but we did walk down to Madeira Drive, then along to the Palace Pier. In August, Fiona and I counted the steps…there are 84 in all.

When we first started going to Concorde 2 for the Reggae, we used to try and climb those stairs. I needed to stop at least twice to catch my breath and to rest, and I would often have to pull myself along just to get to the top. I guess it didn’t help that we’d consumed lots of Guinness, but I know I couldn’t have managed them sober.

The alternative off-ramp…beaten

Fiona and I took to avoiding the stairs and walking along toward the pier and walking up some slightly easier steps further down…just opposite the Volks railway. Those steps were bad enough, and I always needed to rest when climbing them too. The first inkling I had of improved fitness was in July with Antony when I climbed them without stopping, without pulling myself up the handrail, and without being so out of breath at the top, that I had to wait before moving on. I recorded the steps as I was so very proud of myself.

So, in August Fiona and I decided to test me a little further. After our visit to the Alternative Notting Hill Carnival this year, the first such event for a couple of years due to Covid, we went for it. The photo on the left is the view from Madeira Drive of the 84 Steps, you can see it’s quite a height.

The view on the right is the sunset at the top of those steps after my uninterrupted, unassisted, and fully functioned lungs climb. Note, there’s no shake, I was steady, breathing well and took that photo without leaning on anything. I was so very proud of myself, as was Fiona, so we treated ourselves to dinner at the Thomas Kemp pub (the call it the Kemp now), followed by a very pleasant evening in The Hand in Hand, my favourite pub of which I have written before.

There is one more obstacle that needed to be overcome…there is a hill that is an extension of Trafalgar Street; it passes under the main station in Brighton. It is short, but very, very steep…and when you’re dragging baggage behind you, it’s really hard work to climb. Even when sober and well rested I have to stop and rest part way up. We always stop off in a grand café called Bread and Milk to fortify ourselves from their marvellous menu before that climb. This year, I went for it: I climbed that hill, ‘at pace’ as they say these days, dragging my luggage, without stopping. That was proof that Fiona’s advice (she is my personal trainer) and my hard work had paid off. You can see some of Fiona’s work on Instagram at fh_sport_massage

In the Fortune of War, by Fiona

So, where am I now? What is my ‘apple tree’? I’m averaging around 80kg, obviously that varies but it’s in the right ballpark, I have reasonably decent muscle definition these days and I no longer have an ‘overhang’ at my waist (in fact, it’s almost flat). I exercise daily (almost), only at home, no need for gym membership, alternating between walking and callisthenics one day, and cycling and weights the next on a 14-day cycle.

I watch the calories…not a diet, just keep an eye on calories consumed, and calories expended, there is generally a deficit. I drink (ESB and wine) most days, but not to excess…and yes, I count the calories for them too, and I’m not hungry. I do try to make sure I have an appropriate amount of protein daily. I use two monitoring apps, Google Fit and Lifesum, along with some fitness apps for Dumbbell (Dumbbells) work, Exercises (Lose Weight App for Men) and Stretches (Stretching Exercises), all of which ‘talk’ to Google Fit. There’s also a Cycling Diary app for the cycling. All the apps are available from Google Play.

I also monitor my weight using Quality Management tool, SPC, to ensure I’m ‘in control’ and that I’m neither too heavy nor too light. The tool shows you when there’s abnormal variation, and when that variation is within the bounds of a normal process (i.e., living in this case 😉). You can see, Brighton trips take a toll, but it was fairly easy to get back to where I want to be,

And more importantly, I can make those steep climbs in Brighton, and I think I make Fiona (at least) proud of her dear ol’ dad.

My favourite pub: The Hand in Hand in Kemptown, Brighton

Now then…it’s nice to be back.

I’ve been away to Brighton with my daughter for our annual extended Bank Holiday weekend. Just before leaving, I published a Blogroll, which is my review of ‘facilities’ provided in various hospitality venues I visit, with a promise of further posts to come. This concept (as explained on the site) was born out of an alcohol fuelled conversation with said daughter in an Oxford pub with great facilities…I intend to return and write them up. I had intended to write up about the ‘facilities’ at the Hand in Hand, but an event there on the Thursday night developed into this.

We have been going to Brighton now since 2008, and our first stay was in 2009. We stayed in an exceptional hotel in Charlotte Street in Kemptown called Brighton Pavilions and we both loved the place. Unfortunately (for us at least), the two guys running the place sold up and have now retired to Spain; we still (sort of) stay connected. We still stay in Charlotte Street, but our chosen hotel is now Paskins Town House.

During our stay, we do a lot of walking, a fair amount of drinking and eating, and a lot of talking. We have got to know some great people, mainly musicians and folks in the hospitality trad profession, and we visit lots of places, including Concord 2, the Marina, the Pier (obviously), The Sussex (pub), The Fortune of War, and of course The Hand in Hand. Some more that once!

We first got to know the Hand (as it’s lovingly known) from our musician friends. On asking about more music, beyond what we heard at the busking in East Street, outside the Sussex, they told us about this pub in Kemptown that had live jazz on Sunday evenings. That Sunday we went there, and we are now well and truly hooked.

Sunday jazz is just one feature of the Hand. The people, at and behind the bar, are the friendliest you could meet. They play ‘Toad‘, a pub game played (I’m told almost exclusively) in Sussex…easy rules, but difficult to master. They brew their own beer: my tipples for this year were Bird, their bitter and Otto, their Stout…both extremely drinkable (too much so sometimes).

The décor is unique in my experience, although they do borrow the ties idea from the Bear in Oxford. The ‘facilities’ that I was going to write about in the Blogpost are, to say the least, bijou. The event however that led to this blog post is held every year to remember departed friends and is known as Staggering in the Dark (or Sid, after whom the evening is named). Hopefully, you can see some of what went on Instagram, here, or you can look on Facebook.

We first started going to Sid by accident, we’d decided one weekend to arrive on Thursday rather than Friday so that we could get a full Friday in. We popped in the Hand, and lo there was music to be had. We now start our annual weekend on Thursday so that we can go to Sid.

It is a poignant evening that remembers death and life in many forms. It is a candlelight evening, which can be interesting (certainly until the ‘facility’ lights are turned on). The darkness is also useful for hiding the tears that you just can’t help as you listen to some of the presentations. Its format is open mic, but open mic that you wouldn’t believe.

The evening was opened by a duo on Saw and Piano (yes, a saw…not sure if it was rip or crosscut, but a saw), we had poems in English and Welsh, we had songs and readings the like of which you have probably never heard. There were pianos (well one…with its own poignant story), guitars, double bass, trumpet, and Welsh harp not to mention the Saw & bow. There was music you may have recognised (only just in some cases) to brilliantly improvised, what I called “f**k it”, music. This year, subject matter ranged from strange bar talk to unloving mothers, from the death of a much-loved sister to the assisted death of a seagull, and much in between and beyond.

While this is an evening founded in death, it is a celebration of life. The lives of loved ones, the freedom of birds, the creativity of humans (we’re all humans at Sid, not “ladies and gentlemen”), the ability of humans to overcome hardship and sorrow, the remembering and sorrow but not being beaten by loss (a lesson we can all learn methinks).

This was my third Sid, and I’m hoping for more to come. Each year I tell myself (as you do) that I will prepare something for next year…this time, I mean it.

As to the Hand, if you’re in Brighton, it’s worth taking a walk-up St. James’s Street until you see this place. Pop in and have a drink and a natter. If you’re there on the last Thursday in August, go to Sid. If you’re there on Sunday evenings, go hear some great jazz.

My favourite pub.