Half way to . . . Paradise? or redemption.

When I started this Blog I was sixteen months away from my 50th Birthday; it seemed like far enough away, at the time, for some sort of target date . . . Now it's eight months away. The target is half the distance away. Question is, do I feel that I've made half the amount of changes I intended . . .  Putting it another way . . . If as many changes were to occur in the second eight months as those that have occured in the first eight months, would I be satisfied? Hmmm. Well, No . . .  OK, Yes and No . . . OK, No.  Alright, I'm not sure. Let's see.

Weight wise, yes I would be happy. Five kilos have gone, another five would be just fine; another ten would be twice as fine but five would get me to target. I'm still only eating the foods on my list, with one treat a week. This week I got a meringue nest, filled it with chopped strawberries and cherries and covered it in whipped cream. I could eat one now. Or two.

Gear wise, it's hard to say really. Yes, there has been progress. Back at the beginning of this Blog, I couldn't bear the thought of one day without using gear. . . now I can go for 5 or 6 days. It seems I have to learn to deal with the bigger "trials and tribulations" that inevitably come my way, being a single parent of three kids (with as many different Dads as Anon is want to remind me), without running back to my comfort blanket . . . Grow up? Maybe. So yes, another eight months might get me there. I am trying, some days harder than others, some days I don't even have to try. I'll keep going back to N/A as I can see it works for some. I've booked Stropster in for "Hamper-sitting" tomorrow so I can make it to this week's gathering; AKA eat all you can, as loudly as you can, in one and a half hours.

Health wise. Tonnes better. I can breath, I can walk four miles a day, I can skip (jump rope) three hundred+ a day, lift weights and do sit ups again. I'm still working on the press ups  . . . well no, I'm not really but I will be. I will be able to do them by the time I'm 50. Won't I.

The garden has improved, the house not so much but Hamper G has only been in school for three weeks (and now it's half term) so during the next eight months with Hamper in school, I think the decorating could begin.

I've started playing the piano again, I will draw again. I have my first half-portrait lined up.
I guess I'm saying hoping the next eight months will be more productive than the first eight months, as I now have Hamper G in school, have improved health and have finally started the ball rolling in the right direction. Like the first half was preparation or something. Something.

I've written, deleted, re-written, and now have four drafts of Professor Higgins part three. Too much detail just sounds terribly sordid, too little doesn't capture the atmosphere . . .  I might just fast forward to my escape and then flash back later. I suppose having never spoken about "those days", other than with Higgins, it's a tricky one. I don't want to get all hung up on it, as there are so many "eras" that I do want to write about. We'll see.

So, on reflection, I'd say I'm in a better place than I was last October and by my reckoning, progressing this way for the next eight months could lead me to the results that I set out to achieve. Of course, we never know what's round the corner. The best laid plans and all that . . . Full moons and all that . . . Now, this was a surprise; a nice surprise.
Stropster came home early this evening having spent a few nights at his Dad's house (keep up Anon, there are 720 Dads! one in prison, two in heaven) . . . he was carrying a guitar, said his Dad had been teaching him some chords and a few tunes . . .  said his Dad told him that I'd taught him how to play . .  . and that I was pretty good. And could I teach him some redemption song?  . . And how come he didn't know that I played so well . . .  How come? I'd forgotten, that's how. Not forgotten how to play, I was straight to it; even Hamper G listened and she never shuts up . . .  I'd forgotten that I knew how to play. Yeah well that just about fucking sums it up, doesn't it?

I'd forgotten that I knew how to play. And I'm not just talking guitar here, but you knew that. We had a good three hours with me showing him some redemption and, more importantly, him showing me some redemption. Yeah Man.
It's the best evening that I've had with Stropster in years. Totally unexpected and amazing.
I  have to be up at seven am, as Stropster is back to work tomorrow. Imagine if I missed the alarm, perish the thought . . . I'm off to bed. Goodnight and thanks for eight months of progress. If you weren't reading, I doubt it would have happened. It would not have happened.