I had managed to keep the drinking in check last night (and thanks to walking, half-running and dancing had only gone over my calorie goal by a couple of hundred calories), but still felt tired and befuddled today. It wasn't the five drinks that had done me in, but the dancing. My feet and tendons were aching. I was hobbling, which I thought might have serious implications on my exercise regime. Injury is my big fear in the battle to lose weight. It seems I need to burn off at least five hundred calories a day through exercise to have any hope of losing weight.
By the time we'd got home I just wanted to go to bed, which didn't augur too well for the two gigs I was committed to doing this evening. But I decided to take my fatigue head on and decided to walk most of the way into town. And after an hour's walk I felt revived and now in sensible shoes my feet did not hurt at all. It was relaxing and enjoyable stuff, apart from a point where I walked in front of a car waiting at a junction and the driver angrily beeped me. I turned round and flicked the Vs. How dare he or she be so rude to me. But I knew, even as I was doing it, that if I had been in the car rather than on the road I would have been pissed off by the cavalier actions of a pedestrian who acted like that. Perhaps I have lived in Shepherd's Bush too long. In this suburb no one looks when crossing the road and everyone lives by the rule, if I am in the road then you have to stop. I had already witnessed a man at a pedestrian crossing amble into the road as the red man was still showing despite the fact that a car was hurtling towards him. Even by Shepherd's Bush standards this was blase. I nearly jumped out of my skin at his self-assured and self-destructive arrogance. He didn't even glance at the car, but either his judgement was very, very accurate or he had correctly ascertained that the driver would slow down. Whatever the case he got to the other side unscathed, with a smug smile playing on his lips. He had won this round of Bush Roulette (not as much fun as it sounds) and hubristically could not even contemplate that one day he might encounter a driver who was not paying attention. This was the very same crossing where I had recently witnessed a car crash into the traffic light for no reason. Why would you risk your soft body when there are such idiots out there protected and safe in their vehicles?
I also picked up more life points (as I like to call them, viewing my diet as a video game, but it works in a literal sense too) by walking between my two gigs in Leicester Square and Oxford Circus. It's quite a good way of digesting the work from one set as you prepare for another. I have been doing a bit about all the different creatures and objects that live under the sea, not just Mermaids, but every kind of animal. I started wondering whether everything on earth has a mer-version of itself, not just creatures, but individuals. Was there a Mer-Jesus for example, a creature with the body of a Jesus, but the tail of a fish? And then I wondered if somehow 2000 years ago things got messed up and we on the land ended up with the Mer-Jesus rather than the human one. It would certainly explain how he appeared to walk on water and how he fed the 5000 when he had so little food - he could just cut a few slices off his hind quarters and serve up some sushi. I may have found a subject for a new film in the Splash franchise. I've had a look at the Turin Shroud. People have assumed that Jesus has legs and feet, but I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility to interpret the lower half as fish. "Come with me I will make you a fisher of men"? That could easily be a misquote, "Come with me I will make you a fishman." Early Christians used the sign of the fish to mean Jesus. It all makes sense now.
I was able to try out some of these ideas on stage within minutes of having them. Walking is good for mind and body. There's no man like a nomad.