One stone lost with Slimming World, though it's taking longer this time

When I stepped onto the scales this morning my weight was 12st:0½lb – exactly one stone less than on January 6th. That was the day on which I admitted the error of my ways and rejoined Slimming World, though not my old Slimming World group in Whitecroft.  I wrote:

The thought of my chosen group closing again at the critical moment was just too ghastly to contemplate, so this time I've gone for On-Line membership.

How prophetic that was!  As the dreadful coronavirus rages around us, all Slimming World groups have suspended their meetings and are functioning online and through mutual phone support.  There is the very real possibility that, had I joined the Whitecroft group, there would again be no-one to rejoice with me when I achieve my goal.

I'm still angry with myself for allowing my weight to stray so far from the target of 11st:6lb that I set myself in 2016. I knew I was losing the plot and I knew what to do about it, but allowed myself to believe that it would all come right in the end. It didn't.

Comparing my progress to 2016, it's not gone quite as well this time, but I know why and I'm not over-concerned.  This time I've decided to come off diet every Saturday and fully indulge in the candlelit evening meal to which S-- and I habitually treat ourselves.  Consequently, I'm apt to gain a pound or so by Monday morning. Nevertheless, I expect to cross the "-20lb" line in about 7 week's time.  That will put me back within 3lb of my original target weight, and qualify me for a free return to my old Slimming World group (or indeed any other group that meets weekly).

On that happy occasion I will blog here again. Having experienced Slimming World group and online membership, I expect to be well placed to compare the two systems.  For now, I'll simply say that, if taken seriously, they evidently both work.

Day 8: The last long walk?

Yesterday we had planned to relieve our imposed isolation by climbing Skirrid, but then feared that myriad others might have the same idea. I really am trying to be a good girl and socially distance myself as much as possible in these challenging times.

Consequently, we chose to climb the more modest Coppet Hill, near Goodrich – a walk much nearer home. I described this one back in October 2018, shortly after Stowfield Viaduct was repaired, so will spare you a repeat.  If you'd like to read the old post, click here.

As we drove through the Forest I noticed that New Fancy and Speculation car parks were closed. "How odd," I thought. "Perhaps the guy whose job it is to open them has had to self-isolate."  How wrong can you be?

Here are some views from the walk; places that didn't feature last time.

Monday's weather was perfect for a ramble; brilliantly sunny but not too hot.  Soon, though, thoughts turned to lunch.  This is the view from where we ate our picnic, with the houses of Lower Lydbook visible on the other side of the Wye.

Onward and upward, we joined a quiet lane that took us in the direction of Goodrich.  This time (amazingly) I remembered to take along my Canon camera, and with its zoom lens managed this shot of Goodrich Castle, some 2½ miles away.

Waste not, want not seems an odd sentiment for a drinking point with no tap. It also has a notice declaring that it's not drinking water, so we left it for the horses. 

High on Coppet Hill now, this is the view of Goodrich, 380 feet below us.

Finally, from a little further along the ridge of Coppet Hill, here is Huntsham Bridge and the road to Symonds Yat.  The aftermath of the recent floods is still in evidence. Rocklands Farm, in the trees next to the bridge, must have been a very damp place indeed.

For the record, our efforts at self-isolation were successful. Only 2 people passed us (at the prescribed 6ft separation) and we saw one other walker in the distance.  On returning home and reading the BBC News website, the reason for those car parks being closed became clear, though the number of cars we saw clogging every available off-road pull-in did cause me to question the wisdom of Forest England's action.

Now, as this dreadful C-19 virus rages around us, we must stay at home, except for essential shopping and one form of daily exercise.  Is an 8½ mile ramble, 11 miles from home in the spirit of that restriction?  Perhaps not, and I must be content with 10,000 steps on forest tracks nearer home.

Day Three, and the walls are closing in

As the dawn broke this morning, I lay in bed, fully awake, and felt trapped – a prisoner in my own home. Though I often do spend a day indoors, it's hitherto been out of choice or illness, not because I've been instructed... and not with the prospect of it continuing for weeks and weeks.

The government's advice is unequivocal:

We are advising those who are at increased risk of severe illness from coronavirus (COVID-19) to be particularly stringent in following social distancing measures. This group includes those who are:
aged 70 or older (regardless of medical conditions)... ...

Avoid gatherings with friends and family. Keep in touch using remote technology such as phone, internet, and social media...  

You can go for a walk outdoors if you stay more than 2 metres from others.

At a stroke my social life has been decimated. My church has closed its doors on Sundays, a group of friends who gathered in my home every week can no longer do so, and my beloved ukulele group, which includes some of my most treasured friends, has suspended its weekly meetings.  No worship, no fellowship, and no music!  I'm not even supposed to visit friends in their homes.

I've just cancelled a short holiday in North Devon, which was to have included joining a working party on the Lynton & Barnstaple Railway. Unsurprisingly, the working weekend has been called off.

I suppose I can count myself fortunate that I'm married to someone who is a youthful 68 years old, but that actually makes me feel worse.  Never has the 2¾ year difference in our ages seemed so great!
Damn it all, I am fit. I ramble for miles, I climb mountains, my coronary health (according to my FitBit) is excellent, as is my blood pressure, and my weight's pretty good too.

When I read this in yesterday's Independent, I shouted "YES!":

Professor Karol Sikora, a physician specialising in oncology who is in his 70s, said communication from the government on the issue had been “appalling” and accused ministers of “playing it by ear”. 

“It’s not the age that’s the cut-off, it’s the medical vulnerability of someone. People with lung problems, cardiac failure, diabetes, obesity, smokers, these are the people who are most vulnerable. Vulnerable people should avoid crowds, but there should be no age cut-off,” he said. “The government strategy and their advice had been great until now, but ... this has not been thought through. They want to be seen to be doing something, but it’s not evidence based.”

BUT
There is another side to this, is there not? COVID-19 is a killer, and yesterday the government's chief scientific adviser, Sir Patrick Vallance, told MPs the hope was to keep the death toll under 20,000.  That sounds an horrendously high figure, though, to put it into perspective, every year seasonal flue claims about 8,000 lives.

A rogueish voice in my head says, "Why not throw caution to the wind, get the virus, recover (as you surely will) then rejoice in your newly-acquired immunity?"  But even if I live to tell the story, there's a quantifiable chance that, in the process, I may end up further burdening an overburdened NHS.  That would not be responsible behaviour.

SO
I am resolved to make the best of my forced isolation, and have drawn up a list of fulfilling activities, including frequent local walks, my model railway, decorating a couple of rooms, working in the garden, trying new cooking recipes, continuing to learn French and reading some of those books that have been languishing on my Kindle for ages.  Oh, and blogging (of course!).

Importantly, I want to make each day as different as I can from the day before, to ward off monotony. Consequently, I went for a lovely walk yesterday with my friend Bridget, so today has been a Blogging and Model Railway day.

Looking further ahead, our next big holiday, in celebration of our 50th wedding anniversary, is planned for southwest Ireland in mid-August. Will we be able to go? We live in hope.

The Newland Meander

The Romans named the River Wye "Vaga", meaning wanderer, on account of its many twists and turns, or meanders. In times past there were a few more of these, but in places the river has straightened itself, cutting through the neck of the meanders.  There are a couple of good examples at Ross-on-Wye and Bigsweir.

The Ross-on-Wye one is interesting, as it's still possible to detect much of the scar left by the old meander.

From a talk by Moira Jenkins, "The Geology of the Wye Gorge"
geology.malvernu3a.org.uk/talks/2012/Wye%20gorge/index.htm

The grand-daddy of them all, though, is the Newland Meander, which I set out to explore on a 4 mile walk from Redbrook, about 2½ miles down-river from Monmouth.

The walk started with a pleasant climb through Forge Wood, once an important source of wood for charcoal production, needed for smelting iron ore. There were signs of recent activity by Forest England...

... which became rather more obvious at the top of the hill, where their vehicles had turned the track into a mud bath. Oh the joys of rambling in the rainy season!

Leaving the mud behind, I was greeted with this colourful sight. After Storm Ciara we had to replace a couple of fence panels, but they're very dull in comparison with these.

Soon the distinctive V-shaped valley of the Newland Meander came into view.  It's time for a bit more geology – a subject that fascinates me.  If it bores you, skip down to the photo of me, sitting on a bridge parapet.

The present course of the mighty River Wye is on the left of this map, whilst Valley Brook flows on the course of the old meander. It all looks clear enough, even though Valley Brook is some 90 metres above the Wye, but there's a problem...

Zooming out, you can hopefully see that the meander scar can only be traced to a point near Newland. It's logical to presume that it should rejoin the Wye somewhere near the top of the map, but where? There's a lot of high ground in the way.

I'm little more that a fumbling amateur when it comes to geology, but if I'm interpreting a collection of scholarly articles correctly, it would seem that the Newland Meander is much older than the Ross and Bigsweir ones. Millions of years ago, long before the last ice age, the plateau on which the Forest of Dean stands was much higher, but over time the upper layers were eroded away, taking with them traces of Newland Meander north of Newland itself. Only the deep incision, where the ancient water flow cut through the carboniferous limestone remain.  If I've got that wrong then maybe some more learned soul* will enlighten us.

* A learned soul has indeed commented. Take a look at the second comment to this post by someone who clearly knows their subject. 

End of attempted geology lesson.  Here's the promised photo of little me near Lodges Farm, where the track crosses Valley Brook.

Below Lodges Farm the V-shaped valley continues past a series of ponds. A couple of local residents posed for a photo.

Finally, here's a lovely view of the River Wye, photographed as I approached Redbrook. The old railway bridge has featured on this blog before (here), when I went hunting for millstones.

Cleeve Hill

Cleeve Hill is about 1½ miles northeast of Cheltenham and rises 800 feet above it. A road leads almost to the summit, so it's easy to park up and take in the magnificent views without too much effort. That's where we parked though (predictably) found a way to make it harder.  Read on.

To start with, here are a couple of view of Cheltenham; not as sharp as they should have been as (once again) I forgot to bring along my Canon camera with its lovely zoom lens. I conclude that the solution to this persistent forgetfulness is to keep the darned thing in my rucksack.

 I wonder whether this place gets extra-popular during the Cheltenham races? With a good pair of binoculars it's surely a good place to watch free of charge.

There are remains of a substantial Iron Age hill fort on Cleeve Common, together with lots of other interesting earthworks – evidence that this place has been occupied for thousands of years. I'd love to come back one day and explore them in more detail. This time, though, I contented myself by running down the grassy slopes and singing Over the hill came the swords of a thousand men. My friends in The Ukes of Azzard will understand why.

There are two trig points on the Common. The higher one is described as 'dull and uninteresting' on one website. Here I am, gracing the lower one. Behind me is Bishop's Cleeve.  Here's a better view from the ridge behind me...

What a view! If you click to enlarge it, you'll hopefully be able to make out the houses of Great Malvern, at the right hand end of the Malvern Hills, 19 miles away.

By now thoughts were turning to lunch. When the days are warmer we take a packed lunch, but feasting in a biting wind, whist wearing hats, coats and gloves to keep warm, can quickly lose its appeal. Consequently we headed for The Rising Sun, which meant descending 400ft, then climbing it again after lunch.

I can think of many an Inn with worse views that this, though on this day not even the smokers were braving the garden furniture.

Back on the Common, we followed a rough track past the golf club and down into the aptly named Watery Bottom. It was also a rather muddy bottom, but I wasn't complaining. It was just lovely to be sheltered from that cold wind.

Lastly, here's the view from above Watery Bottom, with Withington in the middle distance.