Tag Archives: diet

Kinder Scout

Giving up Kinder Bueno for Kinder Scout has been three years in the making.

6:15am Sunday: I’m stood in the kitchen in my pjays making an epic packed lunch. Tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches, roast chicken salad sandwiches, mini Soreen bars, flapjack(shop bought, I’m not mad), cookies (also shop bought) lots of water, grapes, two packets of Sainsbury’s rainbow laces, chocolate buttons, cheese and onion rolls and coffee.

An hour and a half later we pulled into the car park at the foot of Kinder Scout, a mountain in the Peak District, just a stones throw from the pretty village of Hayfield. It’s bright and breezy an rain is forecast for 1pm so without further ado, with my pocket bulging with rainbow laces, me, my boyfriend and my Dad, set off.

The first thing that struck me, or rather it, was a massive squirrel which had fallen victim to an electricity pylon and was hanging, bat like from the wires, by its melted back feet. I almost chucked up, rainbow style. I hurried past and refused to look up for the rest of the trip.

Passing Kinder Reservoir, the abandoned pump house and secluded £3.5m estate (many conversations about lottery wins ensued.) we started to climb. There’s something really peaceful about falling into step in comfortable company. The odd sheep interjecting, a cuckoo, skylark and goose adding to the chatter.

Having reached Kinder plateau in 2 hours, running on rainbow laces alone, we stopped to take in the view and snap some outcrop photos. Dropping my Canon EOS 1300D camera on the rocks, I vowed to listed to my dad’s expert safety advice of “Kaaaaattttteee maaaaannn, (he’s a geordie) stand still before you take the bloody picture.” Don’t worry, the camera survived to tell the tale in the photos you see here.

Kinder Downfall waterfall allows for some epic shots too and having inhaled a chicken salad sandwich and a handful of grapes, I was back to arsing about, slipping, splashing and snapping in the water.

We touched lucky and missed a huge rain cloud which dropped it load all over neighbouring Stockport and Manchester, to reach the Kinder and Kinder Low trig points at lunch time. The views are incredible. Mam Tor at Edale to the east and on a good day, Snowdon and Cheshire out to the South West. Kinder Reservoir on your right hand side, glistening in the sun.

I was surprised by and awe-struck by the amount of people hill/fell running. Their bodies highly tuned to withstand the uneven ground conditions and steep inclines/declines of the mountain. At 663m above sea level, Kinder Scout is no Snowdon, but it’s still a hefty challenge.

I’ve put so much weight on over the last three years and more so during lockdown and my current role which involves me sitting at a desk for 7 hours a day isn’t helping either. I don’t want to look nor feel like this any more and having picked up on the fact that historically, May is an active month for me (Superhero challenge and charity abseil ) I didn’t wan’t to miss an opportunity to pick up on the momentum. I’ve chosen Kinder Scout over Kinder Bueno’s. It’s time for a change.

We made the circular trip in 5 hours, dodged the rain, chatted, laughed, said a hundred friendly hello’s, slipped, tripped but didn’t fall and definitely didn’t get electrocuted like that poor bloody squirrel by the car park.

My dads dodgy knees still in tact, we arrived home in time to watch the Grand Prix and put everything in the wash before tucking into a sensational Sunday roast. Sundays well spent and a cracking start to my May movement plans!

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Unholy

Getting by on half a Kinder Bueno for breakfast isn’t ideal, but Ellie had forgotten the last time she ate anything normal before midday.

Coffee, chocolate, and the endless supply of biscuits on offer in the newsroom kept her going most days. It also kept her waistline expanding. As she walked towards the Town Hall, she wondered if that was the root of Nick’s problem? Maybe she should make more effort to get some exercise and knock Greggs in the head for a few weeks?

“I don’t see why we have to have these meetings at this unholy hour.” a councilor complained to Ellie as he ambled into the meeting room laded down with files. She smiled and shrugged. Is 9am really that early? Or had all the daily grind of council bureaucracy gotten too much? She suspected the latter for this time-served civil servant. 

“Ellie!” 

The City Mayor, Anna Carvell caught Ellie’s attention and strode over with a broad, photographer-pleasing smile. 

“Lovely to see you again, thank you for coming down. I know these weekly meetings are pretty hard going but it’s important our constituents know we’re dedicated to discussing the issues that matter to them.” Spoken like a true pro. That entire spiel was straight out of PR 101. 

“Good morning Anna, it’s a pleasure really. Like you said, it’s all about the readership.” Ellie was about to take her seat when Anna stepped closer. 

“Will you be covering the press conference at the training ground this afternoon?” Anna tried to keep her tone light, but Ellie could tell there was something there. 

“Yes, of course. I’m hoping for some good news for Daley, that was a horrendous tackle.” Ellie had seen the challenge with her own eyes and gasped along with the press box as the right-back crumpled to the floor in the dying seconds of last Saturday’s game. 

“Yes me too, but I hear the recovery is going well. I’ll see you there.” With that Anna took her seat, shaking hands and offering smiles to everyone around the room. 

Why is she going to the press conference? Ellie wondered. It was no secret that the city mayor was a blue and was regularly seen in hospitality at home games. But the slog up to the remote training ground was an unusual diary booking for the Mayor. 

“Ellie took out her laptop, set up the voice recorder app, and readied her pen and paper to take notes, her stomach rumbling.  

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May I?

I’ve failed my exams this month, spectacularly. I’ve so much respect for print journalists who can knock out 100 words per minute in shorthand, especially when dealing with sensitive subjects, noisy environments and random accents. You people are like, magical or something.

Sadly I’m not sure I’m cut out to join the elite, despite my brilliant shorthand lecturer persevering with me, I have hit the 80 wpm wall and cant seem to block out all the nonsense long enough to hit that coveted centenary mark.

I bowled into college, 12 minutes late last Friday morning, amid a flurry of phone calls that wound me right up, only to realise I had no pen (not even my trusty Army, Be The Best biro) or paper to transcribe on to, urgh.

shorthand

One emotional meltdown and four and a half minutes later I had failed my 100 wpm exam. Undeterred by the fact I was busy trying to concentrate, the drama continued through-out the break and into the 80 wpm re-sit exam an hour later. Plus some kid was sitting in MY seat. Failed again, head was most definitely elsewhere and not in the world of Teeline.

I’ve stressed myself out so much this month that the stomach ulcer I cultivated back in October decided to make an unwelcome return resulting in horrendous sickness for three long weeks. I didn’t even lose any weight, no need.

My daily diet of strawberry laces, Costa and cake wasn’t helping. I routinely resort back to the usual excuse; single mum of three, studying, working to build contacts, reputation and an attractive portfolio, plus running a home…..oh and my cat popped four kittens out on Sunday morning. I’m a bit busy to say the least and I’ve survived for too long on nervous energy and sugar!

So on to the positives! I now eat food, proper grown up food, and the biggest surprise is…..I actually like it! (munching porridge with grated apple and banana in it right now in fact). I feel so much better in just 4/5 days its remarkable. If you see me loitering around KFC, you have permission to kick my ass.

And because I feel better I’ve been able to get involved with some awesome events. I spent four idyllic days in Barcelona and sat in the press box and conference room at the Nou Camp. I’ve solved a murder mystery at the The Empire Theatre with Agatha Christie’s The Mouse Trap.

I’ve (unsuccessfully) tried to nick a lamb from Farmer Ted’s ( they’re so bloody cute) and held an Amazonian tree frog! I’ve rocked out with a bunch of ten year olds at a disco party and ate my (substantial) body weight in Army field kitchen chicken jalfrezi at the Liverpool Food & Drink Festival, Sefton Park.

I had a bit of a snog with Paddy McGuinness (sorry Woernee) at Madam Tussauds, Blackpool and tickled a stingray at Sea Life Centre. Watching the Kop come alive at Liverpool V Chelsea a couple of weeks ago was phenomenal, I’ve never experienced anything like that atmosphere, and the die hard fans tell me it was rubbish at that game

I had the privilege of cuddling brand new baby Elliot and feeling so much love for my wonderful friend Lisa who brought him into the world in a convenient 20 minutes! The same day I had root canal, two fillings and a cocktail for lunch…..and a 3 hour mid afternoon nap as a result!

My little dudes have had a blast in Blackpool, 518ft up in the air at the top of the Blackpool Tower, gasped at the awesome acrobatics at the circus and built their very own tower replica from Lego. We went back to school and walked the corridors of Broadgreen International school, 17 years after I left, whole separate blog post on this shortly.

I’ve photographed my own fantastic city from the roof of the Hope Street Hotel, had a brew with the new Lord Mayor of Liverpool, Roz Gladden and begun work on my first ever complete fashion collection, ready to show in Autumn 2016.

Ulcer schmulcer. Thank you so very much to the Alice and Greg, Jay Hynd and Amanda Moss for your continued support and thrilling opportunities to write. There are tonnes of new photo’s in the gallery here and check out my most recent work with The Guide Liverpool here.

Bring it on June!

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Eat Sleep WAHHHH Repeat

This weekend I suffered the ultimate shame. I had to listen to a stranger apologise for MY behaviour. I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life. This is how it came about.

I started the NCTJ course in early September and since then my feet have barely touched the ground! I’m on the go from 5am until 8pm most days, furiously scribbling shorthand exercises all over the Metro paper en route to college and consuming every possible headline on Twitter. Lessons involve British history, political debate, discussing media law cases and commentating on football matches, plus learning hieroglyphics……no wait sorry…I mean shorthand (which after four weeks I’m finally beginning to get my head around).

It’s hard work and I’m not ashamed to say some days I feel like I’m struggling to keep up. I come tearing out of college after hours of lessons to collect my three kids from nursery and school to go straight home and start dinner, feed them, clear up, tell them to quit bickering and pulling hair, start the bath and bedtime routine, throw the hoover around, while soaking up the tidal wave in the bathroom and wiping sticky finger marks off the TV and then pack bags for the following day and set out clean uniforms. Once they’re all in bed after four requests for a drink, a wee and yet another raucous rendition of Room on The Broom I can finally sit down to look over the days notes and try to retain least a little bit of the information I’ve learned. Sound familiar? It’s all go……well until it all stopped, on Saturday.

I was taken to The Royal Liverpool Hospital by paramedics Eddie and Rich, who after learning that I’m a trainee journalist, went on to tell me just how deeply the NHS cuts were being felt by staff and patients. It’s a sorry tale, and one I intend on writing up in detail in the coming weeks. (See Eddie, told you I’d give you a mention)

The medical staff in A&E worked out I was suffering from some kind of virus and left me with a dainty little cardboard pot in a busy triage while they prepped my paperwork. It was at this exact point that I lost control of my faculties. Feeling a wave of heat rising rapidly from my feet I tried in vain to get my Superdry hoody off over my head……only to faint forwards out of the chair and vomit all over the shoes of two ladies sat to my left. The last thing I remember is a nurse running towards me saying ‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry about that’

I came around a minute of so later laying on a bed feeling utterly horrendous and being glared at by two angry-looking ladies wiping their shoes with paper towels. Not my finest hour. It turns out I have a stomach ulcer and coughing up blood all weekend is a symptom of doing something wrong! I’d run myself into the ground, my diet was pretty disgusting and trying to be the best at everything clearly wasn’t working out.

Armed with a medicine haul Walter White would be proud of, I’m now back at home resting up. I’ve come up with a better strategy to still be awesome at everything but also to take better care of myself too. And the silver lining….easy weight loss!

Thank you so very much to everyone who looked after me. Paramedics Eddie and Rich, A&E staff Laura, Kayleigh and Rob and especially to the lovely catering lady who said she’s save me chicken curry and rice in case I got my appetite back. Legends!

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