Some blogs ago I wrote about how I’d compiled a ‘bucket
list’ of sorts, although I’d not called it that for fear of jinxing my
existence and hastening my inevitable demise. Looking through the list of 21
items I’d accumulated (so far) I realise that I’d only achieved one and a half
of them. The one I did complete and have repeated several times since is to
drink Sloe Gin. Let’s face it, that wasn’t too difficult to accomplish but who
said they had to be? It was a very pleasant experience so a big tick on the
list there.
The half achievement was in relation to visiting Edinburgh.
Technically I have spent time in Edinburgh but mostly changing trains at
Waverley station. I say mostly, there was a hectic taxi journey against time
down Princes Street one day but I was too busy watching the clock to take in
the sights and sounds of the Scottish capital, but that’s another story. After
careful consideration I don’t feel that I’ve fully met the criteria of visiting
Edinburgh so that’s still resolutely unticked.
However, this weekend I should get the opportunity to give a
great big tick to a more challenging item on the list, and that is to fly in a
helicopter. I say ‘should’ as there is a slight area of doubt in my mind. It’s
not directly to do with the thought of plummeting out of the sky like a rock
falling to earth but that also weighs heavy on my mind.
You see, helicopters like all flying transportation have a
weight limit. It’s not that relevant when we’re jetting off to Torremelinos on our
holidays as we fly on great big planes so no-one mentions it and no flight
attendant is stood at the airport guiding hapless holidaymakers onto a set of
bathroom scales prior to boarding. However, with a small helicopter carrying a
handful of passengers it creates an issue if one occupant has eaten far too
many of their fair share of pies and other assorted savoury pastries.
I was well aware of the weight limit of 16 stone when I
booked this excursion and I can quite confidently say that I am below that
weight……by a few pounds. Actually, whilst wearing nothing apart from a smile I
am well under, but with the addition of the obligatory clothes and footwear the
weight starts creeping on and I find myself edging ever closer to that limit.
Logic dictates that I should have nothing to worry about as
I’m irrefutably under the limit as of right now but the panicky side of my
brain is just worried that I’m a mere sausage roll away from being declared too
fat to fly.
With that in mind I have reduced my calorie intake this week
so that I may become airborne. Water, vegetables and certain fruit have become
my friends; all types of carbohydrates my mortal enemy. I had a complete eye
opener yesterday when I established the calories in just one slice of seeded
bread (130 if you’re interested, so two Bertolli-moistened slices embracing
some ham would have taken me somewhere near 400 calories). Next week I won’t
care a jot about any of this but, for now, I am determined to remain well under
16 stone come hell or high water.
Failing that I may have to paint clothes on me, although
that may be dangerous what with all those sharp blades twirling around. Either
that or I’ll just have to ensure that my bowels are working to maximum
efficiency on the day. That should lighten me up a bit. I’m told that all I
need to consume is a couple of Avocadoes and several boxes of Tic Tacs and the
job’s a good ‘un.
Heaven help the other passengers though. Things could get
messy.
