Fat Fighters

Well last night was my first night at the local Fat Fighters meeting.  I pretty much knew what to expect as maaaaaany years ago, before I was married even, I went along to a WW meeting in Geneva.  I only had a couple of kilos to lose, truth be told - oh how I wish that were the case now. Anyway, down to the nitty gritty.  Fully dressed (of course) and with my boots on I weighed in at 81.1 kg (180 lb - yikes, it sounds even worse like that - or 12.7 stones according to Mr. Google). (Frankly I don't like any of those numbers much but I guess I have to go with the kg as that is what we will be working with here.)  She asked me what I would like to weigh and I told her I was comfortable at about 65 kg so we are looking to lose about 15 kg.

Then I went and sat in on the cheerleading meeting, all the while thinking "I'm never gonna stick this out for an hour"!  But it turns out it was only 30 minutes so I guess anyone can sit still that long. After the meeting the other "newbie" and I - she actually gasped out loud when she was weighed - it was really funny - stuck around so that Chief Cheerleader could explain the points system to us.  I suppose I am being fascetious as the ladies were very nice but I have to admit I do feel like I was having to sit on the Naughty Stool because of letting myself go.  Still, the system doesn't seem that difficult really.  The only problem I have so far discovered is that having downloaded the French WW app onto my phone, it doesn't seem to recognize Swiss WW products, which is a bit weird.  But then again, it is only Day 1 (boy oh boy I hope I've lost 2 kg by tomorrow) so I have to give it time.

I see that in among all the other stuff they were selling "fitbits", which I guess are pedometres, as Fat Fighters want to encourage you to "get active".  I already have a pedometre which I have started using again and to be honest it is quite shocking how little I actually move.

So, thinking "in for a penny, in for a pound", I signed up on Ilona's blog with others who wanted to take the challenge of walking 1,000 miles in 2016.  I must be mad.  According to the Chief Cheerleader at Fat Fighters anything under 5,000 steps a day is considered "sedentary" (so that would be me), above that "average" and the real aim should be 10,000 steps a day.  Using my pedometre I am averaging only 6,000 steps a day so I guess I really have to up the ante.  Then, because on Ilona's blog they are talking about "miles" walked in 2016, I reckoned I had to convert my steps walked from km back into miles.  Not easy.  I don't use an app on my phone to calculate distance because, crossing the border from France into Switzerland every day I will be hit by data-roaming charges.  So I realized I had to simply use my pedometre.  First off, measure your stride - turns out to be only 40 cm (otherwise known as the short, fat, hairy leg syndrome).  Then calculate the number of steps taken daily, multiply by the length of my stride and convert those km back to miles.  (Honestly, I almost gave up there and then). But, I had to admit to feeling smugly superior when I worked out I was hitting about 20 miles a day! Of course my bubble soon burst when I realized I had put the decimal point in the wrong place and in reality was back in the "mobile blob" category.  Oh well, I guess I will have to go with what I've got and see what happens this week.  Fingers crossed.

This and that - oh and Fat Fighters

It's a strange kind of atmosphere at work at the moment.  All the hustle and bustle of Christmas is over and work has not really started gearing up yet - kind of the lull before the storm I guess, although frankly I prefer it when I am busy.

A funny thing happened on the bus on the way home yesterday.  As I have written before I drive to the Franco/Swiss border every day and then catch a bus for the 40-odd minute ride across Geneva. Since I am an avid reader I use this time to get quite a bit of reading in during the day.  You know, wedge yourself in at the back where you couldn't give up your seat for little old ladies even if you wanted to and Bob's your uncle.  Anyway, last night an older Chinese man got on at the station and ended up sitting next to me.  He absolutely reeked of garlic .... but I digress.  He looked over at my book and when he saw that I was reading in English he said "I see you on here most days reading. In China we have a saying that you are chasing time".  Now what the heck are you supposed to reply to that?  I took it to mean that I was "chasing time in my busy life to find time to read".  Not sure exactly.  So I just said "well I am a prisoner of this time so I may as well use it wisely".  (Can you feel a little "Confucius says" coming in to this conversation?)  He wasn't at all offensive (except for the garlic) and when he got off the bus my friend leaned over and said "I think you're in there".  But to be honest, I'm not sure if I understood what he was talking about or he understood what I was talking about - I guess we may find out in chapter two next time I bump into him.

Another thing that made me laugh today was a story carried by that bastion of truth in journalism, the Daily Mail.  They had run a similar item previously but their "journalism" never ceases to amaze me. It was a story on reports of how fearless Kim Jong Whatsisname had supposedly climbed up a mountain almost 3,000 metres high recently. While I have no doubt that he did indeed succeed, I must admit whenever I go up into the mountains round here I have a rather different style of clothes. It could just be that I'm a scaredy cat but what do you think?  Am I being overcautious?  Time to break out the brand new fearless me do you think?

And moving seamlessly on to other news, when I went to see my doctor six months ago it turns out that all of a sudden I had developed high cholesterol.  They did another test just before Christmas and it was still the same so she asked me if I had been under stress recently.  Hallooooo, doesn't everyone's ex just bugger off and leave his ex-wife and kids to sort out 26 years' worth of accumulated crap, empty a three-bedroomed farmhouse and get rid of the dog?  No? So it must just be me then. She also mentioned that I seemed to have put on quite a bit of weight lately and that that could also be the cause of my relatively sudden high cholesterol reading.  No kidding.  I think what probably gave the game away is that I am now at the exact weight I was when I gave birth to my second son - so the equivalent of 9-months' pregnant then.  Great.  Oh boy, time to do something about it I suspect, although in truth I had been feeling pretty uncomfortable for some time, especially this summer with the unseasonally hot weather.  So (drum roll please) I decided "oh to hell with it" and have signed up for Weight Watchers (affectionately known as Fat Fighters).  Actually I would have liked to go to Slimming World, but they don't have that here in France so Fat Fighters it is.  I have enrolled and will go to my first meeting tomorrow evening.  I suspect/hope it will be easier this time round (famous last words) since my kids have left home and I don't have to cook for anybody except myself.  So wish me luck and watch this space.  And now I'm off to shave my legs before the weigh-in.

Long time no speak

Well, it's been a while since I posted here as you can see.  Not that there's anything wrong with that but with Christmas coming and trying to get everything finished at work before that I was just glad of the break.  And what a nice break it was.  My company is very generous and we always close down for about 10 days over Christmas/New Year and it is not taken out of our leave.  Now how good is that!  On top of that, the weather was gorgeous.  Well at least gorgeous as far as I am concerned in that we had mild weather, lots of sunshine and no snow.  However, living in the alps I did feel sorry for the poor buggers I saw driving in with non-local number plates heading up to the slopes, knowing full well there was no snow up there either.  Such a shame to spend all that money and then not get to ski, and of course the resorts also stood to lose a ton of money.  I just hope those people like walking as the mountains are still beautiful but maybe not exactly what they had been looking forward to.

As for me, I had a long list of things I wanted to get done so just jotted them down as I thought of them and managed to knock out quite a number over the holidays.  I even managed to get to IKEA and buy new mattresses for my bed - that is quite an achievement for me as while I love the products I hate the store - the heat, the crowds etc.  While it was busy of course it was nowhere near as busy as if I had had to run in there after work or at the weekend.  On top of that a haircut (finally) and I got to try out a new local massage place.  What bliss.  And while I know it is true, when I finally looked at the figures I was still shocked to see how much cheaper these things are in France than in Switzerland.  For both the massage and the haircut things were about half price compared to Geneva. So I guess it is obvious why so many Swiss residents do their shopping over our side of the border! I also got to meet up with a friend of long-standing who had just come out of hospital and discovered a lovely new (to me) restaurant on "her" side of Lake Geneva.  On the way out we passed a realtor and I nearly fainted when I saw the prices over that side.  Crikey, because of the proximity to the international organizations, the banks and the big multinationals I would say prices are about two-thirds higher than over "my" side (i.e. south) of the lake.  What's more, prices were hit in the recession and have actually come down.  Jesus H. I looked at a couple of apartments (2, maybe 3 bedrooms) and they can run around €500-600,000 ($500-600,000)!  It's no wonder rents are high in Geneva.  And of course, I am still talking about France. To buy that same apartment in Geneva would set you back around CHF 1,500,000 ($1,600,000)!!!!!  I kid you not!  Prices over my side of the lake are considerably lower, although still not cheap by anybody's standards.  I guess I won't be moving anytime soon then (not that I want to anyway - I love it where I live).

I didn't get to see my boys on Christmas Day, which was fine by me actually, because I hate having to do something just because it is a particular day, but they all came over on 29th December and it was really nice.  I happened to be sorting out old photos before they came and they had great fun looking through them (as you do) and it was lovely to be with them.  I only saw OH before Christmas as he was trying to be with his children, although it wasn't possible for him to see all of them unfortunately.  Something he said was quite interesting though.  He went to midnight mass in his local village on Christmas Eve and outside the small church there were two armed police officers. He happened to look up and in some kind of scaffolding/crane just next to the church and normally hidden from view was another police officer, also armed.  How sad is it that we have to have armed police at our churches now.

New Year's Eve I spent quite happily on my own.  I usually like to stay up till 1 a.m. our time to watch the fireworks in the UK but didn't quite make it this time.  I think I was snoring my head off at 11.30!  But all in all it was a lovely break.

So now it's back to work and time to take down the Christmas tree (I didn't get round to it before). Apparently the snow is on its way and we will have to knuckle down till the end of winter.  But, if winter only starts in January I can hardly complain - it's just when it drags on for months and months that it gets me down.  So on that note, I wish you all a happy and healthy new year.  Till the next time.

By the rivers of Babylon ...

As I have mentioned previously, I love working in Geneva, not only because of the stunning scenery but also because it is a multicultural city, with all the added benefits that that brings.  A real Babylon.

Picture Cornelis Anthonisz

Switzerland has four official languages (bet ya didn't know that).  It is principally Swiss-German speaking (around 70% I think, maybe a little more), followed by French and then Italian.  The fourth language is a language called Romantsch, which is spoken in a very small part of the Grisons area of Switzerland.  In fact, here in Geneva, signs are pretty much written in either three or four languages (German, French and Italian, and very often English is also added).  Signs like "do not use the lift in the event of an emergency", for example, would most likely be written out in those four languages. Thankfully (for me), Geneva is French-speaking, as my German is "iffy" to say the least. But, with Swiss-German being so prominent, there are a lot of Germanic names, with lots of "zeit", "stein", "hoch", etc. in them.

Recently my company held a large meeting with different "interests" being represented from all over the world.  One particular European company had recently changed its representative, and we were trying to find the name of the new person representing them so that the Chairman could have the name available, if necessary.  I started looking through lists and had to stifle the giggles. There was one person whose Germanic-sounding name - had I had to read it out loud - I would have pronounced as "horse-shite".  My colleague took one look at the name and immediately came up with "oh shite"! I don't know what we would have done if this had turned out to be the new rep - luckily for us, it wasn't him.  Phew.

In a similar vein, many years ago I was on a training course in Geneva when I got talking to a woman who worked as an interpreter.  She told me that during meetings dealing with the Palestinian situation, the Palestinian peoples were referred to as the Palestinian population of the West Bank - forgive me if I got that wrong but it was quite some time ago.  Anyway, she explained that during simultaneous interpretation you simply don't have the time to refer to the "Palestinian population of the West Bank", so the interpreters had to shorten it to "West Bankers".  She was in the interpreters' both one day when one of her colleagues came out with the supreme Malapropism of "Best Wankers" - she said they didn't know where to put themselves but had to forge on and hope no-one noticed!

And finally, as my mom is Welsh I spent most of my summers up in Betws-y-Coed with family, and it was fascinating (to me at least) to see things such as signs written out bilingually in English and Welsh.  Of course not everyone speaks Welsh so when information was available in English and they needed an official translation into Welsh the text would have to be sent off to the translation department.  The sign below made the news some years ago and certainly gave me a chuckle.

The English text is self-evident.  The Welsh, however, apparently reads "I am not in the office at the moment ....".  Ha - lovely.  So it's not just me then!

A different post from the one I had planned!

Well as of a couple of hours ago Geneva is on high security alert with police actively looking for several young men who may (or may not) be deemed to have terrorist intentions.  It has something to do with a car with Belgian plates coming through the border Tuesday night (I think) and being seen leaving again 24 hours later.  The UN and other organizations under intense security, police outside the Russian and French missions, in particular.  The US mission is pretty well protected anyway.  Not a nice feeling at all, particularly when you think tens of thousands of people cross the Franco/Swiss borders here every day - me included.  Let's hope .....

Why you should always wear your Sunday best!

As I mentioned in a previous post, from a fairly young age my dad suffered from heart problems, having several heart attacks, numerous scares and two by-pass surgeries.  Indeed, as a young girl I remember lying in bed at night listening for the creak of the floorboards and just praying it wasn't mom running downstairs to call the ambulance again.  A horrible time for all of us of course but, in retrospect, it was funny on occasion too.

 

Now while I know I probably shouldn't be talking about my dad's underwear here it is central to the story.  Dad - and most men of his generation I guess - wore boxer shorts, for comfort and probably because there wasn't much by way of choice anyway.  One particular day when he was at work, the elastic around the waistband of his boxers and the actual material separated company but the elastic didn't actually break.  So dad, not really knowing what else to do, just pulled the elastic up and put it over his head in order to keep his "drawers" from falling down.

 

Well as (bad) luck would have it, that day he was taken ill at work.  They called the ambulance to take him to hospital and called my mom at her place of work to meet the ambulance at the hospital. Several hours later it was determined to be a false alarm and that dad had not suffered another heart attack.  That of course was when mom spotted his boxers in the little cupboard next to his bed.  Well she went somewhat "ballistic" - "oh for God's sake, of all the decent pairs of underpants you have in the drawer you had to wear those!  I swear you do this just to embarrass me sometimes!"  You get the gist of it. To be honest, I suspect it was mostly relief that he was all right and she was just letting off nervous energy, but poor old dad got it in the neck that day I can tell you.

Of course, he made matters worse when he was explaining to her that after they admitted him and the young nurse was trying to undress him as he was lying on the bed, every time she tried to pull his underpants off he sat up!  We all cracked up laughing, but I'm pretty sure he had to dodge a few expletives from mom all the same.  Ahhh tales from another era I think.
 

Picture by Dreamstime

Organ donation

I just recently discovered that in Wales, as from today, people who die will be deemed to have consented to becoming organ donors, unless they have opted out of the scheme. I'm not quite sure of all the modalities of it but (as I understand it), anyone over the age of 18 and who has lived in Wales for at least 12 months will be deemed to have given their prior consent to organ donation unless they have specifically opted out.  From what I understand, in the event of someone's death, if there is no "opt out" or if no close relative can be found to "opt out" on the deceased person's behalf, then organs can be taken and used for transplant purposes.  While the scheme  currently only applies in Wales, any organs harvested can be made available to suitable recipients anywhere in the UK.

And you know what, I think this is a wonderful initiative.  Of course people have every right to opt out for religious or whatever other reasons they may have, and I respect that, but for me personally making the assumption that organs can be taken in the absence of information to the contrary is a wonderful step forward to saving lives.  I know if my sons or someone else I loved were in danger of dying for lack of a donor kidney I would be so grateful to any grieving family who took the courageous and selfless decision to donate their loved one's organs, particularly at such a difficult time.

Many years ago I signed an organ donor's card and carried it in my purse.  That must have been over 30 years ago I guess so I am pretty sure that card is now shredded beyond repair somewhere. Which makes me think I must get hold of another one and do the necessary, or at the very least make my wishes known to my family.  Nobody likes thinking of this stuff of course and I'm sure many of us think that as soon as we "sign up", we will then be killed and used as a donor.  Just like making a will - "well if I make a will I'm sure I'm going to snuff it the week after".  But I for one want to be cremated when I die and want my ashes scattered in the mountains, as I don't want a place where my family need to go to feel sad.  For me the dearly departed are all around us so I don't need to be buried anywhere in order for my family to show respect.

Sadly in the last few days rugby great Jonah Lomu died suddenly of complications linked to kidney disease. He was only 40 and left behind two very young sons who now have to grow up without their dad.  Jonah did, I believe, get a kidney transplant but it failed and he died as a result of his illness.  I don't know if another transplant would have been possible for him or even if it would have done any good, but I personally believe that that option should be out there.  To be burying viable organs when our loved ones are dying for want of a transplant is somehow just wrong to me.  Of course I totally respect people's wishes not to be involved with organ donation, but in cases where people don't really have strong views one way or another, I for one praise the Welsh initiative and hope it will prove such a success that it can be rolled out UK-wide, thereby saving lives that otherwise would be lost.

RIP Jonah Lomu!