Back to the grind. After a brief hiatus I’m back on the exercise kick, running and cycling this week. For the cycle I rode over to Laxfield to visit the King’s Head, otherwise known as the Low House. The ‘bar’ such as it is, hides at the back of the pub. Lined with casks, it’s a real-ale drinkers paradise. I’m such a connoisseur that I can’t remember what I had. Whatever it was it tasted good and complimented the steak sandwich a treat. I could easily have stayed there all afternoon but that wouldn’t have been good for my waistline or my wallet. I like the quirkyness of the Low House. Well worth a visit if you’re in the area.
I’m walking and running rather than running for 30 minutes non-stop. It’s less daunting and therefore I’m more likely to do it. Shorter stints also mean that I can run faster, which feels better, strangely. It’s all in a good cause. My weight has been nudging upwards since my holiday in Norfolk. No more sweet stuff until I’ve lost a further 2kg. I’ve already lost around 7kg but shedding the extra required to get my BMI down below 25 is proving to be a struggle.
Now that summer is over I’m looking for work. Half-heartedly, I must admit. I’m not relishing the prospect of commuting five days a week, not even a few miles. But needs must, as they say. But do I really need a job? I could survive on what remains of my redundancy pay for a good few months yet. So why don’t I? Good question. I’d still like to write but if the last few months are anything to go by I’m not convinced that I have the commitment – or maybe I haven’t come up with the right idea yet.
I have an incentive for finding a job. My personal pension is intimately linked to the stock market and I’m stuffed if there’s another crash. With Brexit looming I would say that it’s highly likely. A braver person would transfer the lot into cash but my previous attempts at second-guessing the market haven’t worked so I’m reluctant to change anything. That’s the bugger of private pensions. There’s no guarantee. Still, no point in regrets now. I’m luckier than a lot of people, at least I have a pension.
Talking of Brexit, I have to come clean. I think it’s insanity. I have no idea whether we are going to better or worse off outside the EU but then neither does anyone else. Frankly, I don’t trust our government or the fat cat FTSE CEOs to do anything other than look after their own interests, leaving the rest of us well and truly stuffed.
Just looking at the Brexiteers (I won’t roll call their names) tells me all I need to know. If there had been a plan for leaving I might be more sympathetic. But it seems we’ve voted to jump out of the aircraft without a parachute and we’re hoping that we can put something together on the way down and the best we can hope for is landing in a soft pile of shit. The impact for those with offshore accounts won’t be too bad (they may even benefit) but for those without, hitting the ground is going to hurt.
I know Europe isn’t perfect but I look at successive British governments over the decades and I really am hard pushed to think of anything they’ve done to make my life better. Health, transport, energy, education, social services – you name it – they’re all screwed up in one way or another and they’re all up for grabs once we’ve left Europe.