The UK...what a jol! PDF Print E-mail
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Written by Lester Ash   
Wednesday, 29 June 2005
Ever since a rather fortunate trip to London in July last year, I have been bragging to my wife about what a lukker time I had, so we decided that we should bite the bullet and go together in June of the following year. This way, she could experience it for herself. It had to be in June or any time in the summer so that I could again enjoy those long summer days in London where the sun sets after 9 and it only gets dark at 10. We had people that we would be staying with, so the biggest expense (accomodation) was covered and it would'nt be that harsh on the pockets. Plus, I organised 6 litres of alcohol at the duty free before we left so the alcohol department was covered too, or so I thought...

Downtown London

We took in a number of sights, and one thing we both acknowledged is that if we were to move to the UK we would lose a hell of a lot of weight! You don’t actually have a choice. In SA we are really spoilt because we go to work and get into the car that is parked in the garage, then get out in the basement at your company. It’s then into a lift that takes you to within 50 metres of your desk. You repeat this in the evenings and in total, you have done about 100m of walking, maximum (give or take a few metres depending on how often you smoke and have to wander out onto the balcony for a puff.) With normal SA life you have to make a conscious decision to keep in shape and to do some form of exercise each day. In London, between running for the bus and train (which amazes me as they are so frequent yet people still sprint after them; in fact, trains arrive roughly every 2 minutes on certain lines) keeping in shape is not an option! Add to this the fact that food is so expensive and besides, there is so much to do that you will hardly be eating. So without much effort, you would have shed a significant amount of weight. I actually found that after a week in London I had lost a few centimetres. Stuff that had been tight before was “not as tight” by the time I left (I wouldn’t go as far as to say that it was loose, though.)

Breaking bread in London



 
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