Abandon Hoop, All Ye That Enter Here

"Nic has given herself more bruises, bumps and scrapes in one hour attempting to learn how to use a weighted hula hoop than in all 3 years of getting healthier-related hurts. (And yes, that includes the weighted wrist weights/punching one's face Wii-boxing debacle!)

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Hope so - Death By Hula Hoop would look really naff on a tombstone..."

Many years ago BE (before exercise), when my home town still had an Argos, (a UK catalogue retailer), I was convinced that buying a Davina McCall soft foam, jointed exercise hula hoop was the way forward in whittling down my waist. And it would have been, too, had I not fallen for the biggest con in the book: that one size fits all.

So. Not. True.  

I had no idea that a basic 'hoop diameter - hip girth = optimum rotation' formula existed. Well, it doesn't per se, as I just made that up, but there will be someone with a head for figures both mathematical and corporeal who can make sense of the fact that if you have a small hoop, and a large body, the chances of making more than one rotation before the thing falls to bruise your heels are small to none, and no amount of gyrating will keep it up around your hips, or waist, or wherever it's likely to fit. There's just not enough inner hoop space. Or whatever it's called.

I really must get round to learning the technical language of hooping.

So that blue and yellow Davina hoop spent the next mumble-mumble years separated into its six sections, trussed up in a cotton bag, no doubt admonishing me for my waste and neglect in its own broken-down, hoopy way before I finally came to terms with the truth; that going by my own weight/height/frame ratio I'd have to be about a size fourteen to really benefit from its use.

We took an emotional trip to the second-hand shop on the corner, hoop and I, but I know it's in a better place now, being loved by someone who won't ignore it and leave it languishing between empty suitcases and old decorating paraphernalia.

And in the spirit of of our modern throwaway society, I replaced something that still works, with something that is bigger and shinier.

Oh, okay, I'm being a little hard on myself here, but I have to admit feeling a little ashamed having spent money I didn't really have on something I barely used, then giving it away to a charity shop. But 'tis true, I did find a bigger and shinier model on eBay, a weighted hoop of a much larger diameter, complete with half rubber balls on the inside to, and I quote, "massage the waist".

I'm not usually one to fall for the massage your fat away rubbish, so I feel the need to point out that the reason I bought this hoop was purely a monetary one: it was cheap, and the postage was free! (I believe the phrase you're looking for begins with "You can take the girl out of Scotland...")

But bumps and scrapes? Oh yes, in painfully plentiful supply. I think the first ten minutes gave me a good sample of the many ways and means in which an innocent hoop can inflict injury. I won't give you a list, but let me say that the rest of this first learning experience was made with your new hooper standing in a circle of sofa cushions, tube bandages protecting her ankle bones, and all loose clothing thoroughly and closely bound.

And it still wasn't enough. The Hoop. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Please Wait - Bluebells Loading 80%

The custodians of the park weren't wrong when they told me, back in January, that it was known for its displays of snowdrops and bluebells. The snowdrops were beautiful at Winter's end, and the bluebells that are here to usher in the final burst of Spring are only a week or so away from full bloom. Their colour is already flooding the park, and the light there today was so soft and bright that I couldn't stop taking photos. Of course, I got home to find that my phone camera had done a good job, but I couldn't quite capture the ethereal nature of the sunbeams streaming through the branches.

One day, one day I'll have a photo-taking machine that is so fabulous that I wouldn't dare let it bear the brunt of my picture-taking woes! Until then, I'll try not to lament the abandoned long shots and close-ups, and instead do some research into ways in which I can make the most of what I have!

But when the subject is as wonderful as this, I think there's some truth in saying that no matter how amateur the picture-taker is, the beauty of the subject will find a way to shine through!

Blossom, And Tree-Stumps, And Bees! Oh My!

Beachy Clean

It was absolutely WILD outside! Blowing a gale, but there was nary a cloud in the sky, so I decided a little jaunt up to Scheveningen and a stomp along the beach was in order. It certainly blew away the cobwebs, and Spring-cleaned the old soul!

It has to be said that there is one down side to losing a hundred pounds: it's much harder to walk against (or even with) gale-force winds than it used to be... It is, however, much easier to run out of the way of a tricksy incoming tide! And there's not a trace left of any cobweb; they've well and truly been blown away!

One Hundred Pounds

"My little sister, the inspiration behind, and biggest cheerleader of my attempts to lose weight, sent me a rare and wonderful dark Terry's Chocolate Orange a wee while ago in preparation for a certain event that she wrote about on the top of the box... The rest is self-explanatory, I think!

And in the immortal words of Dawn French: "it's not Terry's, it's mine!"

If you can't read it, it says: "For 100lb celebration coming to a flat in Holland soon!" Yes indeed. As of today I've lost 100 pounds, or 7 stone 2 pounds, or 45.3kgs. And if you can't celebrate that with some seriously lovely chocolate, when can you?!!)"

I have to add that it's not's so much about trying to finally fulfil the common (mis-)conceptions of female beauty (mainly because so many are manufactured and blatantly unattainable without surgery or photoshop), but more about not dying at the age of 50 to a massive heart attack, or being so big I can't get out of my flat without the fire brigade coming round to tear down a wall first.

I was going to wait a few more pounds so I could make one of my arbitrary amount of pounds lost post, but you know, one hundred pounds sounds so fabulous just like that, that I had to celebrate it just as it is.  

Bloesemtijd

I keep seeing patches of green on the map of the city, and taking off to see how pretty they are in real life.  But the prettiness of the green bits is only half the story, because in a very nineteenth century ideal, I like to include the journey in the overall experience, and if the getting there detracts from the destination, chances are I won't make the trip again.

But I'll be going back to Poot's Woods; there were pretty canal-side houses, flourishing magnolia, secret corners of colour and texture, and the bosjes themselves were lovely to wander around, and just starting to burst into blossom. I'm intrigued to see what it's like once leaf-time is here!

And As If By Magic, a Sand-Dune Appeared.

A story in 7 parts.

It was a day much like any other March day. The sun was out, and although it was not making much of an effort to chivvy Spring on its way, it managed to pull me away from my scores and outside in a direction of a park I hadn't visited before.

Part one was easy, through a park already traversed many times, and along an avenue of trees much to be found in many a Dutch public place.

Part two took me opposite Madurodam (of model village fame) and across the perplexing mini spaghetti junctions of the Hubertustunnel. Then finally to the entrance of the Hubertuspark, with its beautiful view of traffic and the Hubertusviaduct, working my way up through to the dizzying heights of three hundred metres above sea-level. Oh my. Oxygen was provided half-way up.

Parts three and four, the discovery of so many conifers and firs in a city full of deciduous trees, gave a real tug on the home-sick heartstrings...

... but in part five there were signs of Spring alongside the evergreens to gladden the eye, too.

Then suddenly part six.  Nobody expects the Den Haagian Sandquisition!

Yet, confused as I was at finding sand dunes at the top of the highest point in the city (and on further research it appears this area has been like this forever, used at one time for hunting, then as a training ground for artillery practise, which might explain some of the interesting terrain at the top, until now in its current incarnation as a nature preservation) I was delighted to be able to hide myself in the shade of a not very big tree at all!  Huzzah for part seven!