Crikey I’ll tell you what, I know I was leaning towards feeling mardy about the fact that I was only going on holiday for a week this year instead of two, but as it turns out that’s probably a good thing. I reckon one more day and caution may well have been well and truly thrown to the wind. We’ve had a great holiday but staying on the straight and narrow was much much harder than I thought it was going to be.

I’d love to be able to tell you that I didn’t put a foot wrong whilst I’ve been away. I mean, I talked a really good game before I left, didn’t I..? I was a woman with a plan, and I was going to stick to it. And I did on day one, and mostly on day two but then as the week’s gone on, I’ve fallen out of the naughty tree and hit quite a few branches on the way down. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being really disciplined and focused and one completely flipping the bird to anything resembling self-control, I started the week around an eight or nine and probably limped across the finish line scraping a three. Dammit.

Pretty much as soon as we got on the ship I headed up to go check out the gym and all the fitness facilities. My head was full of all the things I was going to do. But then I met the fitness woman and she managed to talk me through all the classes that were available whilst at the same time giving me that look…you know the one I mean, where someone’s eyes contradict what’s coming out of their mouth?

You’d be very welcome in the spinning class are the words I heard, but the eyes said don’t even fucking think about it, my gym isn’t for people like you, in fact we’re way out of your league, now run along…go and be fat and old somewhere else.

And I let it get to me, which in hindsight was more than a bit stupid. But it put me right off, you know? I did still intend to go the next day, but I got the times wrong due to switching off mobile data on my phone which then didn’t update the time change on my watch overnight – duh – so I missed the first class, which made me then feel even more awkward about going to the next one…the Asshole voice definitely had a hand in all that because whatever was going on was one hundred percent in my head.

So anyway, to cut a long story short, I decided to stop stressing about it and walk instead. Whenever we cruise, my friend starts her day off with three miles around the promenade deck, and I joined her this year for the first time…hell, I even jogged a little bit of it. At pretty much first light we could be found outside on deck seven, with the wind in our hair and fresh air in our lungs which to be fair was much nicer than the stupid gym anyway. Three times around was one mile, and we just carried on walking until we’d hit our three miles target.

Most days by the time we went to bed we’d walked seven or eight miles, and especially on days where we’d walked around our ports of call we’d done even more. In Alesund there was a viewing platform on top of the tallest peak in town, which was reached by a little tourist train that buzzed up and down the hairpin bends snaking their way to the top, or by four hundred and forty four steps cut into the hillside.

My friend and I went up together on the little train, intending to leave it at the top and walk down the steps but my friend wanted to stay on for the rest of the tour so that’s what we did. Once it dropped us off having shown us all the sights we had a good walk around the town, poking about in little shops and doing our holiday thing, which was lovely. The fact that I’d not even walked down the steps was bugging me though. It kind of felt like a missed opportunity.

So, when we went back to the ship I got changed into my exercise gear and went back on shore, and I walked those steps on my own, every one of them, right up to the top . I swear the views were better second time around, after I’d earned the right to sit and enjoy them. It was steep and tough but I loved it, and more than that, I loved knowing I could do it, you know? Without actually dying. If you’ve been following the Facebook page you might have seen the pictures.

Thing is, knowing I’d done it somehow made me feel like I had license to take my foot off the gas where my food was concerned as we went down to dinner that night. And that wasn’t a good move…if it wasn’t nailed down, I ate it. I’d been fairly sensible up to that point but I’d just walked the steps so in my head that meant I’d earned enough brownie points to take care of however many fucking calories chef could throw at me. Appetiser, soup, main, dessert…cheese board? Hell yeah bring it on…I climbed the steps.

And that’s the point at which I sort of lost the plot…we were halfway though the holiday at this point, it was Tuesday and the wheels were starting to wobble.

I’d carry on telling the tale right now if I wasn’t now in full damage limitation mode, however my walking boots are waiting along with my enthusiastic fur-baby who’s reaping the benefits of me trying to make amends to myself for not quite pulling off the plan…don’t worry, I’ll pick up where I left off next time. You know me, I have to ‘fess up and cleanse my soul to you lot, it’s part of the deal 🙂

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