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Column: Right, Margo! You can lose that weight
How many times do we make promises to ourselves?
But deep in our heart of hearts we know that, having been down this road so many times, there is little chance of us keeping that promise.
Almost every Monday morning I promise myself that this is the week, Margo, that you will lose weight, but by 10.30 I am already weakening.
The kettle goes on and it’s a case of ‘well, just one small biscuit won’t hurt’, and already the battle of the bulge is being lost once again.
The trouble is that food and drink are such big pleasures, pleasures that are not only needed and wanted, but also wanted when not needed.
It’s not that I long to be thin (she said lying through her teeth) it’s just that I don’t want to be fat.
This wet, cold weather makes you think that it would be nice to live somewhere warm, somewhere different.
But, you know, no matter how much you knock it, there’s no place that’s quite like where you were brought up, places and people you’ve known all your life, things that are comfortable and familiar.
I have lived in lots of places, some very luxurious, but there is something about Blackburn.
Now I could say that it is glamorous, exotic and architecturally pleasing, but that would be pushing it a bit, but it’s home and no matter how corny that sounds, that counts.
There’s also an old true saying — the best part of going away is coming home.
Here’s another — ‘progress doesn’t always take you forward’ and that’s the way I feel. I still miss the old market, so I salve the pain by taking weekly trips to other market towns.
The difference between shops and markets is the element of surprise, you can mooch round on a market never being quite sure as to what you will find there, and the friendly stall holders are there for the company as well as the money.
By the way, my Blackburn coat of arms badge is still missing.
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