Last week I and a few friends bade farewell to another one of our friends as he returned to the land of the long white cloud. We'd met up in Victoria station, which doesn't sound too glamourous I know, but trust me the bar in the Thistle Hotel in the station really is pretty good. Head and shoulders above any of the other pubs and bars in the immediate vicinity of the station. Highly recommended.

After some time, we retired to a local Lebanese restaurant, Noura where we enjoyed a fabulous meal and enjoyed each other's company. After we'd eaten, I leant back in my seat and reflected on my friends. We'd gone to the same school, and stayed friends ever since. I remarked at the time how impressed I was that I was sat in a fine restaurant with a talented author and photographer, a historian and a scientist.

The funny thing was I'd never really thought about them in those terms before. But as I thought about that, I felt both humbled and inspired that all three had followed their passions and interests thoroughout their lives and still pursue them as adults and I have no doubt will continue to do so for the rest of their days. I felt humbled as we talked about this, as one of them mentioned that it would be sad to go through your life and not leave anything behind to show you'd once lived. At the same time, in some small way I felt inspired to follow my own passions myself. I suppose this blog in a way is a step in the right direction, but I feel quite sure there's a whole creative side to me bubbling under the surface wanting to break out. It's never too late.

So here's to you chaps. Keep up the good work and keep doing what you love.

Regular readers of my blog if they haven't seen me lately might be wondering how I'm doing after my unexpected trip to hospital.

The answer is pretty good. On Friday, I thought I'd give myself a little work out, so seeing as the weather was good, I got up earlyish (for a day off) to do my usual route to Epping, but with the express aim of doing it quickly to see if I was feeling better. And I have to say it went pretty well, and I felt better than ever. The weather was great, I was in a great mood and the air smelt wonderful. And I was going at quite a pace that I think I got to Highams Park in record time, despite the mud, which makes walking fast a little problematic.

In fact, I practically skipped up a small incline, between the trees, such was my enthusiasm. Which was then tempered by the painful pinging of one of my muscles in my lower back. I don't know, you get one thing sorted and another thing goes wrong. But I thought it was better to carry on, which I did. But by the time I got to Epping station about 4 hours later, my back and legs were complaining.

The good news is that my chest felt fine though, which was what I set out to reassure myself of. So that was good. But it got better, as I was meeting up with the guys from work for a night out at a Greek restaurant. The meal wasn't bad, but I didn't much want to get involved with the slightly naff disco afterwards (it doesn't help when you're not drinking). Fortunately, the pain in my back prevented me from getting involved. What a shame.

After that, a few of us went to Langleys for Jon's birthday. Now admittedly I was sober and I did turn up at about 11.30, but boy that place is nasty. It actually smelt of sick. The service was poor, and even the glasses weren't clean. Absoultely disgusting. I will never set foot in that place again. Bad back or no bad back.

It's not often you find yourself hooked up to a heart monitor, wearing an oxygen mask staring up at the lights in the resuscitation area in hospital. But that's where I found myself on Wednesday night, bewildered and somewhat concerned about my health. I don't want to end up there again. Well, not for a long while anyway.

I'll start at the beginning. I played in a Inter Regulatory Body football tournament a week ago last Wednesday. I played in goal as usual. It was a fantastic evening. The football was good and it gave me a chance to catch up with old friends. And we did pretty well. I think our team's average age must have been about 35, which meant we were probably lacking in a bit of youth over the other teams. But we got to the semi finals where we met the GMC. Oh how we wanted to beat them. Even though as a regulatory body the NMC is (we think) the biggest such body in the world, it always seems to me that we sometimes live in the shadow of them. So there was a bit of an edge to the match. So obviously it didn't help that we quickly conceded two tame goals. It was uphill from there, but there was some fight left in us. After conceding a third we got one back, and tried to force our way back into the game. But they caught us on the break. They fired a shot to my left which I dived for and got my fingers to, but unfortunately the ball went in.

But I'd hurt myself. I'd taken a hefty blow to my left hand side, and I remember feeling the judder of pain. But it's a man's game right? So I got up and carried on, and the score finished at 4-1. But the pain didn't go away. I put that down to either muscular damage or a cracked rib. Over the next few days it seemed to get worse. But the worrying thing was that it felt worse when I was walking. Then last wednesday, I walked my usual 10-15 minutes to the tube, and I was struggling for breath. And it didn't stop when I got on the tube. In fact, I only felt better after I'd been at work for a few minutes.

So it was with a certain sense of trepidation that I set off home that night, and I found the same thing. My chest felt painful, and I was struggling to breath again. It was scary on the tube, as for the first time I can remember I had to sit down. Standing wasn't an option. Anyway - I made it home eventually, and I thought about what to do. I was going to see the GP in the morning, but I checked the NHS direct website to see what they had to say about my symptoms.

The interaction went something like this:

"Chest Pain?" Yes.
"Breathing Difficulties?" Yes.
"Phone 999. Now. We mean it. Now."

Oh dear. That looked serious. I checked it again. Maybe I'd made a mistake.

I hadn't.

I didn't dial 999, but I got a taxi, and off I went to Newham General not knowing what to expect. I think the triage system favours people with my symptoms as I didn't wait long with the usual bunch of nutters you find at night in an A&E department. It didn't take me long to be hooked up to an ECG machine for initial assessment. It got worse when the nurse took more and more readings "just so the doctors can be sure". Oh. My. God. Shit shit shit. What was happening?

After about half hour, I found myself in the resuscitation area. This was beginning to look serious. I was wired up to the heart monitor. Constant observation. Then came the oxygen mask. I really thought this was looking bad at this stage. I talked to some nurses, and to a doctor. They took blood tests. Lots of them. And Chest X Rays. They prodded, listened and talked. And all the time I couldn't begin to imagine what was going on.

After what seemed a life time, the doctor spoke with me. She told me that she thought it was most likely damage to my rib cage. I asked her why I was struggling for breath though. She told me she didn't know. Then she went off to ask the medical registrar.

Bugger. The registrar? Basically she was unsure. After a long while she told me that she'd need to take some more tests, and they moved me from Resus to an area called Clinical Decision Unit. This was better, but it was an area for observation where they collect data to work out if you're ill enough to get admitted. So it was back to the ECG, and back to more blood tests.

And then at 6 in the morning, I was discharged. I was fine. They'd found nothing. My tests apparently were "unremarkable" apart from inverted T waves in AVF whatever that means. But the medical registrar was unconcerned. Thank God. The only thing that they had found was that my blood oxygen level was down, which at least confirmed my breathing difficulties and dizzy episodes. They told me to take it up with my GP.

So - it turns out that my problems were relatively benign. I'd most probably damaged my ribcage which was causing pain, which meant that my breathing was much shallower, causing me to try and breathe more adding to my chest pain. It also transpires I was catching a cold again, so my breathing capacity was much reduced. My GP also told me that rib injuries generally peak in terms of pain 7-10 days after they occur. Whether that's true or not I don't know, but at least I've got nothing to worry about.

Still, in a way it's been a bit of a blessing. I was told once more that my blood pressure is higher than it should be. The nurse in the CDU asked me about it, and I told her I kind of knew about it, but I'd not really done much about it. "Wise move", she muttered as she walked off. She's got a point though. It's about time I got on top of it. Which gives me all the more reason to lose the weight I'd set out to last year. If I need any more motivation than casting my mind back to being in the emergency ward then I don't know what else will persuade me.

At the turn of the year, I really thought it was going to be a good year for me. For a brief moment this January I thought perhaps not. But now - in a strange way I'm more convinced than ever. I'm now looking forward to the rest of the year more than ever.

This isn't really a review of the film as I don't think I'm up to writing a decent film review. What I can say about it though is that it's not often that I watch a film that is as good as the book it's based on. But I do think in this case it's true. It's beautifully shot, and is incredibly moving. The cinematography brings Afghanistan alive just as the prose in the book did before it. The soundtrack is superb. I whole heartedly recommend it.

As I was watching the credits - I was thinking about the comparative value of what I pay for. I paid nearly 12 quid to watch this movie. I paid 10 quid to watch the football yesterday. What was better value I thought? I came to the conclusion that this was a stupid question. They are so far apart in the way that I am entertained.

What appeals to me for the football is complex yet astonishingly simple. Theres a lot of different emotions that a fan will go through especially on a day like yesterday, especially as it was a long journey to an away match. Theres the anticipation, the banter, the excitement, and the chat about the game and past performances on the way up. The sounds and smells of a football match, and the excitement of walking in. The singing. The shouting. The cheering and the inevitable moaning. Then there's the long journey home. But what it really boils down to is spending time with your mates. And hopefully meeting new ones. And if there's some decent football to watch so much the better. And it's difficult to put a price on that. Whcih is why some people will pay a lot of money following their team I think.

The movie was a completely different experience. I'd spent the day with a friend, and after she left, I decided to go see the movie as I want to watch it and I thought rather than try and persuade someone to go with me (which I think is a little bit silly seeing as you're sat in the dark and you can't talk) I'd go and see it on my own. It was once again an emotional experience, far less a visceral one, but a much more engaging intellectual one. Not that I'm saying that this film is intellectual or high brow. My point is that film and football engage with very different parts of me, much as music does as well. Which means I think it's a rather pointless exercise comparing the value of one to the other.

Mind you I'd not hesitate in recommending "The Kite Runner" to anyone. I think I'd struggle to do the same for the Barnsley game next week.

As with a lot of people at the moment, I'm keeping it quite quiet after Christmas. I fancied reading a book when I went to bed the other night but I don't have one to read.

So does anyone have any suggestions? Let me know...

I found myself in Lewisham the other day, and I caught the DLR to Stratford on my way home. Perhaps it was because I was in a really good mood, but as I sat on the train, I started musing on London and what a really quite fabulous place it is. It was the diversity of the place that really struck me as a one of the special things about the city. Take the DLR route that I took. Starting off from Lewisham, the train heads north through Deptford, then onto picturesque Greenwich. From then it travels up to the Isle of Dogs, and through the striking modernity of the architecture of the homes and offices there. As the train moves out from Canary Wharf, it heads in to Poplar, which is a proper slice of East End life still thriving in the shadow of Global commerce just as it always has. I nearly stopped off in Chrisp Street market to wander about, but I realised that was just an excuse to get some Pie and Mash. So I carried on up through Bow and on towards Stratford, where I saw the already impressive earth works for the Olympics. And finally I got off at Stratford itself, which is surely heading for great things as a result of those same Olympics.

As I went to catch my bus home, I bought a paper and I read this article. Basically it said that London for a number of reasons is the best city in the world.

And I found myself agreeing. I often joke that I'm not the most travelled person in the world as I let the world come to me here in London. And when I considered this that morning, I don't think it's that far from the truth. But it's not just the diversity of the people, but it's the sheer diversity of the places, the environments and the communities that strikes me. Just look at the list of places that a typical Londoner (ie me) has been to in the last few weeks.

East Ham
Chinatown
Islington
Shepherds Bush
Covent Carden
Woolwich
Richmond
South Bank
Crystal Palace
Epping Forest
Dalston
Hammersmith
Hoxton

You may know all of these places, or only some. But if you know any, have a think about them for a moment. And think about how different they all are to each other. Thats what I'm amazed about. All of this on my doorstep in a relatively small area. And it's not just the areas of London, it's also about the sheer number of things to do, the parks, the cafes, restaurants, pubs, clubs, sporting arenas, museums, galleries, shopping, and business. And all of them are world class. Its unbelievable that there's so much and all so accessible with a very flexible public transport system.

But we all have our gripes about London. Even if we don't live there. There's the crime, the traffic, the cost and even the little things like the crowds and the times when our tube is delayed. But I do really think it's a small price to pay to live in one of the greatest cities in the world.

So, is London truly the capital of the world? I don't know. I haven't visited nearly enough other cities to know. But I do know that when you sit down and think about it, it takes your breath away.

I was going to write a little diatribe about what I can't stand about Christmas. On the grounds I can't stand all the nonsense and the commercialism. And the hassle. The tinsel. The secret santas. Piped Christmas Carols. Pissed office workers in Santa Hats. Slade. The endless supplies of bad food in the office. And the shopping. Especially the shopping. And..

...and then I had the strangest feeling. I realised despite all of this crap there really is a lot about the season that I love. For instance I'm not going to pretend to anyone that I love the shopping. I despise it. But oddly enough yesterday through the evil that is Christmas shopping, I spoke to my brother, my mum, my dad and my sister in law. All in one day. And the only other day that's likely to happen is on Christmas Day itself.

And between now and then, I'm going to have met up with, written to or emailed some wonderful friends in this country and around the world. Some I haven't seen for quite some time. Some of them are only in the UK for a short visit. And all because of Christmas.

I'm not a religious man. But there is something special about this time of year for most people. And I recall one year telling my Mum I'd want to spend it at home on my own having a quiet one. This year? Despite my grumblings, moans and general grouchiness (or even Grinchiness) I think I wouldn't have it any other way than what I'm doing this year. I think it's good to remember how lucky we are to have loving friends and family around us.

Then again, all this love and joy might just be down to the fact I've finished my Christmas shopping...

I've been bugging some of my friends this week with a bit of a puzzler that's been bothering me lately. It's a question I've been asked a few times by different women* over the last 2 or 3 months. And because the question is the same, but that it comes from different people and in different circumstances, it got me to thinking why I'm being asked the same question.

The question in (ahem) question? "How come you're still single?"

OK. That's a simple question. But I find I have great difficulty answering it. I think the first thing that I find tricky is whether the question itself is a good or a bad question to be asked. I mean, it could be interpreted as something like "Wow. You're pretty amazing. I'm actually staggered that a man like you hasn't been snapped up. What is wrong with the women in the world?". And that of course would be good. On the other hand it could be interpreted as something like "Wow. You're pretty weird. I'm actually staggered that you haven't found a woman yet. What in the world is wrong with you?"

The fact of the matter is I couldn't quite work out all by myself, so off I went to my friends and asked them a very simple question about this. My question was this:

"If a woman asks me 'How come you're still single?', is this on the whole a good or a bad thing?". No context. No names mentioned to protect the innocent. That's all they had to work with.

And the results were pretty interesting. I asked men and women. And all of them said pretty much that the question was on the whole a positive one. However each and every person I have asked has then followed it up by asking me why I was still single. Oh dear. This was getting complicated now. All I wanted to know was if it were a good or a bad thing, not to have the same question back from a few more people.

Which brings us back to the same question. If on the whole it's a postive question, then thats a good start. But that doesn't help me in answering the damn thing. And what do I mean "on the whole" it's a positive question? What are the negative aspects? And are they the root of me having difficulty with the question in the first place? And why's everyone interested in why I'm single? And why the bloody hell am I that bothered I'm writing it on my blog?

Back to the question. What are the potential negative aspects? Whilst I don't think that anyone sees being single as in itself a bad thing, it would appear that remaining single for some time (short term interludes excluded for the sake of this discussion) has potential for raising perhaps a question or two. Does this person actually want to be in a relationship? If not? Why not? If they do, how come they're not actually in one and haven't been in one for a while? What are they doing (or not doing) to find themselves in a relationship?

Wow. That's some pretty heavy stuff there. So I thought I'd meditate on it, which for me is a brisk walk through the woods, and I had a good think about why this question is difficult and what my friends have told me and what I've learnt about myself.

So here goes. Do I want to be in a relationship? Yes. That was easy, but I don't think it's actually occurred to me to say something like that to myself. And I think without saying that to yourself then unless all women are mind readers (and God knows I wish they were) then it's going to be a little tricky to find me the right woman. But I looked back over the past 2 or 3 years, and I think it's fair to say that I haven't always wanted to be in a relationship during that time. In fact, I think rushing in to one or two when I wasn't ready put me off. At what point that situation changed I don't think I know. But it has changed. I'm ready now but what is clear to me is that without recognising exactly what it is I'm looking for, then simply hoping for something to happen is somewhat of a silly thing to be doing.

As I was walking yesterday, some quite simple things came together in my mind. I know what I want. I've known what I've wanted for years. I thought I found it once. But it didn't work out. That doesn't mean you stop trying. It means you try harder the next time. That doesn't mean that you settle for second best. I'm not going to waste mine or anyone else's time being in a relationship that I don't think has some kind of future. Which is great, but when you consider that for two people to find "the one" for them is still fairly difficult, then obviously you've got to make efforts to try and find one another. Or at the very least be a little bit more upfront about what (and who) you want. In fact, thinking about this now, this seems to be a fairly common complaint about men from women. A lot of us men just need to be a bit bolder I think. And, well, stop writing about it on a blog and get out there and find that woman.

So, what will I answer next time I'm asked the question? "I'm still single because I can't answer this damn question". That should sort it.

* This doesn't include my Mum, who asks pretty much the same question whenever I see her, although it usually asked in a way that only a Mother can ask her son

So I rather boldy set and made public my goal. I thought it was about time for an update. So how have I done? Well, the good news is that I have lost weight. And apparently it shows as a friend of mine did say I looked skinny the other night (bless you, you know who you are!). And I'm ahead of my schedule. Which is great.

On the other hand - I haven't been quite as good as I'd set out to be. I've had a few beers. But not quite as many. And I've had crisps. But a lot less. And there's been other times where I've just caved in, like the day we decided we'd all cook some nice food for work. I of course didn't cook healthy stuff (and rather unexpectedly realised that cooking tasty buttery biscuits is splendidly easy). And nor did anyone else. But I have been eating and drinking a lot better on the whole and I have lost some weight. Trouble is, we all know that I'd be expecting to lose more at the start and less at the end. Which probably means I can't be complacent. Which probably means that those roast potatoes I cooked on Sunday need to be the last for a little while.

So how much more do I need to lose to meet my target? 30 of your English pounds. Will I make my target? Place your bets...

It's been a bit of a good weekend all told. Friday was spent with the boys playing poker, and I only sulked a little bit as I parted company with 40 quid. I obviously played well but the cards were against me. Honestly.

And then on the Saturday I went to an old university friend's wedding. I have to admit I wasn't really looking forward to it. I was going on my own, and I only knew the bride and the groom. And I was going to miss a home game against Ipswich, and also (shock horror) the rugby final. But, as with most things, the reality was much better than I hoped. I had a great time and met lots of nice people. Most of them married (sigh) but you can't have everything. The venue was also amazing. It made me want to take up golf.

As for sunday, I thought I'd take a different walk instead of the usual one, so I went to see how long it would take me to walk to Charlton. And I actually enjoyed the walk. I walked under the thames through the Woolwich tunnel, although it's actually quicker to take the ferry. But it was a lovely day and I'm glad I got out. But the really interesting thing is that doing this blogging and walking has reminded me how much I enjoy photography, so I'm going to get a new camera at some point (or dust off my old film slr). My current digital camera's broken, but I'm feeling the need to take some photos. I've put a couple from woolwich in my photos section.

I ended up getting to Greenwich, so I popped into Chris's new place there. And they kindly fed me Roast Lamb. And then I had the most amazing surprise. I had peas with my dinner. And they were tasty. I had seconds. For anyone who knows me there's not much I don't like, but nuts and peas are the things I don't like. Until now.

So what's the magic? Well, the secret is to cook them with Leeks. Butter. Leeks. Fry. Add frozen peas. No water. Cook. Serve. Watch Rob go back for seconds. Be amazed. I know my family will.

I went on a walk today on my usual route to Epping. I usually go on a Sunday, so the mix of people out in the Forest was a bit different to what I was used to. The usual mix is families out for a walk or on their bikes, or couples taking a stroll. On a Monday, the place is taken over by dog walkers. Lots and lots of dog walkers.

Anyway - that's not the point of my post. I'm sick and tired of hearing about how unfriendly London is. What utter tosh. It's impossible to say hello to everyone you meet in the course of one's day in London. No matter how much northerners think they can. But I really don't think people are any less friendly here at all. Just go regularly for a walk in Epping. There are people there who always say hello. It's simply because there's just more time and space between each hello. Otherwise we'd be saying "Hello" and "Goodbye" like Frank Spencer in that Scottish dancing scene from all those years ago.

And while I'm on a rant - I couldn't believe that Newham is the 3rd worst place to live in in the UK. I admit that I wouldn't mind moving at some point. But to tell the truth the more I think of it I wonder why. It really isn't that bad here at all. If only that refurbishment next door would end I might actually like it. And besides. How many people can walk up to Epping from their doorstep. Channel 4 can preach all they like. Newham isn't as bad as the figures would suggest. So there.

I've been told that the best way to achieve something is to do 2 things.

1 - Set a target that's both challenging but achievable
2 - Tell people about it.

So, here it is - my target.

Lose 3st in 6 months. Yes. I want to be 3st lighter by my 36th birthday. That's half a stone a month. Which is possible. I think I can do it.

There will be 3 simple rules

1 - No booze
2 - No crisps
3 - Much reduced (but still some) carbs.

OK - and no other unhealthy stuff, but you get the picture.

I'll record my progress over the coming months. Should be interesting.

Well, I actuall can't remember the last time I went to the dentist, so I thought I had better see one. So I registered at the local one on Tuesday. Now, it's fair to say I haven't really had a problem with my teeth, but would you believe it? The very night that I had registered a crown came out! So lucky I could go to the dentist today and have it put back in. I don't know how long it will last for though.

Still it was nice to have no problems getting an NHS dentist.

Oh - and one filling required. Not bad I suppose.

OK so in my last post I said I wouldn't go to the pub. But the very next night I did. Then I went to the pub and then on to a gig. Many beers then missed the last tube home. And true to form I've eaten badly again. Dear oh dear.

Better luck tomorrow hopefully - It's Ruth's leaving, but I'm going to a DotNet London User group meeting for the first time in ages. Dino Esposito is speaking about Ajax. I'm looking forward to it. Then I'm going to try and hot foot it over to the pub for Ruth at about 9 I think. And no beer.

It's not that I'm unhappy - far from it. In fact I'm reasonably comfortable with life, but here's the thing. ...   more »

It's just like me to arrive at something that was once fashionable and cool just after it becomes a bit ...   more »