WHEN I moved to the UK my alcohol intake dramatically increased. In turn, my consumption of late-night kebabs also skyrocketed, while the number of workouts I did each week plummeted to an all time low.
I blamed this on London and its ‘unhealthy lifestyle’.
I found icy, dark evenings to be more enjoyable in warm pubs with a bottle of happy hour wine, rather than pounding the pavements of gloomy, overcrowded Acton and Clapham J.
I would often reminisce of my healthy days in sunny Australia – where the weather and lifestyle made a run in the park more appealing and salads easier to face.
After an hour on an overcrowded Tube, where standing with my face in the armpit of a stressed suit wasn’t uncommon, hitting the grog just made sense.
So as my time in the UK drew to a close I was rather excited about the concept of finding my healthy Aussie self again.
After five months back in the land Down Under, I’m still looking.
I’m afraid the 24-year-old who LOVED running and managed to balance the pub with work, exercise and domestic duties hasn’t suddenly been reincarnated in my post-UK 27-year-old body.
For some reason I naively thought I’d land in Australia and return to my disciplined ways. I had visions of suddenly having the strength to refuse that lip-smacking glass of red wine after a hard day at the office. And for some reason I am not loving those 6am workouts as much as I did in my early 20’s.
Weird, I know!
I’ve since realised that I might have been a little harsh on poor old London Town.
Perhaps my declining interest in exercise and my heightened enjoyment of nights spent in pubs, surrounded by great company, hearty food and feel-good alcohol could have been better attributed to the ageing process, than the weather.
And thinking about it, it’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Many, many memorable moments were created in those pubs. We laughed until we almost wet ourselves and while we often felt a little worse for wear the next day, the friendships that were formed made it all worthwhile. I wish I could say the same about the hours spent alone in a sweaty, stuffy gym.
So, on that note, I’d like to publicly apologise to London.
Sorry I blamed you for my ‘naughty’ habits. Instead, I should have been thanking you.
Without such carefree, fun behaviour, my time in the UK wouldn’t have been so memorable.
So on that note, I’d like to propose a toast to good friends, big meals and a few stubbies. Because life’s pretty dull otherwise. Cheers!
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