Now, I like a drink as much as the next girl... (27.09.08)

...OK, probably a bit more, if we're being frank. Generally I like drink. I like wine (good wine, especially, but I'm not a wine snob - I long for France and Italy where you can buy decent vins de table in tetrapaks from the supermarket and not have it strip all the natural coverings off your insides), beers (real beers and ales generally - I loved Bruges - I'm not really a lager girl) and cocktails (although I like the more savoury or citrussy ones, I've never really been overly keen on the sweet, over-fruity or creamy).

My friends like a drink too. And a lot of our socialising - whether at each others' houses or out and about - while it doesn't revolve around, it generally involves booze. We're not a drink to get drunk gang, but it is part of the scene.

So, more or less giving up the booze for a while, while I get into the swing of running again and try to get my base-level fitness back on track, adds an interesting dynamic. Of course, it means my friends get a chauffeur much more often (although that's a mixed blessing given the state of our car!), but it has been quite odd not having a drink when everyone else is. It's not that I miss the drink itself, but it's essentially a social habit that I'm breaking, along with a whole raft of learned responses about wine being good after a stressful day, for getting the party started, for treating yourself and so on and so forth. It's all a bit like giving up smoking.

I often wonder at this country's attitudes toward booze. How young people can go out with the aim of 'getting pissed' baffles me (she says from the ripe old age of 28) and there's an expectation that you can't have a good time without drinking. This is blatantly untrue.

This was epitomised tonight when I went to the leaving drinks of a friend who's about to move to New York. Don't get me wrong - all my and his friends were lovely and I had a really great evening - but the attitude of the bar staff really threw me. It was a members' bar, (serving a wide range of really REALLY tasty looking cocktails - I was very glad I'd driven, as I couldn't weaken my resolve in the face of all the 'muddled' goodness. Yum. But I digress...) and the barman was very friendly, knowledgeable and evidently good at his job. So, after pouring over the menu for a while and finding nothing fit for a driver, I said to him 'do you do anything non-alcoholic'? And he just looked at me, paused, and said 'there's a juice bar down the street'.

He did eventually rustle me up something tasty and inexpensive, but I was just astounded by the attitude. When a friend later went to buy me a drink,he asked for 'something interesting and non-alcoholic', and was told by two separate barmen that there was no such thing. Is it any wonder that the British public have such a screwed up relationship with alcohol, when the people who sell it (and who, incidentally, by law, are responsible for ensuring it's consumed in legal and acceptible limits) have such an attitude?

Harrumph. I'm probably just being over-stroppy. What I really need is to chill out, and have a glass of wine...

xx

Do you know if the men in your life are at risk of prostate cancer? (22.09.08)

The fates have conspired. Again. Bloody fates, they have a habit of doing that...

There are three things, of various importance, that mean that suddenly I find myself filling in some rather terrifying forms:
1) I have long said that I want to complete a marathon by the time I'm 30 (I just want to finish - speed no object).
2) I would like to start trying for children at some point in the not too distant future (not that near folks, don't get too excited!) - and again, preferably by the time I'm 30.
3) I have just turned 28.

Now, to the uninitiated, it may seem that these things are relatively unconnected. But, hear on... The problem is that in order to complete a marathon before I'm 30, I have to do it in the next year and 11.5 months. Ditto the kids thing. And the likelihood of me doing 2) and then 1) is extremely slim. And doing a marathon in the first 9 months of 2010 really doesn't leave me enough time to have a baby (or even to get pregnant) before the big 3-oh hits. So, (and I know the more astute of you will have got there before me) it looks as though I'm going to have to get the marathon thing out of the way next year. Oh, heavens.

So here I am, surrounded by training schedules and potential interim races and - scariest of all - the application forms for a Golden Bond place with my chosen charity. I'm not COMPLETELY new to running - I did the GNR a couple of years ago, and have run on and off since then (with varying levels of devotion) - so I don't think it's utterly unfeasible. I'm aiming for a half this side of Christmas. And then will complete a 'get you round' full marathon training schedule from early next year. But MAN is it a terrifying prospect!

But I have got a good cause. Today is my Dad's birthday. Most of you reading this will know that last year my Dad was diagnosed with advanced (metastacised) prostate cancer. It's not a nice disease (is there such a thing?!), and if caught early enough is eminently treatable, and in most cases curable. Unfortunately, my father was diagnosed aged 55 - extraordinarily young - and it was already past curable. It is manageable though - he is about to start a trial of a brand new drug, and exciting advancements are being made all the time in the treatment of this sort of cancer.

There are, however, a few things everyone should know about prostate cancer, other than that if it's caught early enough it's usually curable. These are:
1) It is the most common cancer diagnosed in men in the UK - one man dies every hour from this disease.
2) It is fairly easily detectable (in most cases) with a simple blood - or rather, Prostate Specific Androgen (PSA) - test. This takes a matter of minutes and can be carried out by your GP.

If I am successful in securing one of their Golden Bond (charity) places, I will be running the Flora London Marathon 2009 for The Prostate Cancer Charity. I'm hoping to raise at least £2000 for this very worthy cause. I know that sounds a lot, but think of it this way - if I can get 100 people to donate £20, we're laughing. That money will go towards raising money to combat this terrible disease - for research into treatments and cures, and to raise awareness of (and reduce the stigma attached to) this form of cancer. The FLM itself next year will be run on 26 April - two years to the day that my Dad received his diagnosis.

I haven't got the place yet, so you can hold on to your moolah for a little longer, but consider this fair warning. Oh, and also, I'm going to need all the support I can get, so if you see me out pounding the streets of London - or Catford - give us a wave (and a jelly bean if you have any on you!) and then - and much more importantly - promise yourself to nag your husband, father or grandfather, or any other men you know (generally over 50 except for black men, who are a higher risk and should be tested from 40) to get a PSA test from their doctors.

xx