However I’m very goal oriented so I did, quietly, set myself the following goals:

• Read one book a month.
• Take a photo everyday.
• Lose at least 8kg (aiming for 95kg, just under 15stone).

Progress so far:

• I’ve read one book (Tinker, Tailor, Solder, Spy), and halfway through a second (Oryx and Crake).
• I’ve almost managed this one (the day I missed I remember but then forgot again! gah!)
• I’m cheating a little, but over the course of last year, I’ve gone from 111kg to 103kg.

I’m quite happy with my progress and here’s the thing, I realised recently that I am prepared to fail at the first two; If I don’t read a book every month, that’s OK, so long as I’m making the effort to read more (which is actually about taking a small amount of time here and there for myself). If I don’t take a photo everyday that’s OK too, it was more aimed at getting me to slow down and look at the world around me.

Losing weight is, unfortunately, not something I can ‘fail’ at. However as that’s more about eating healthily and being more active, it too is something I’m learning to accept small failures in. If I put on 1kg over a weekend, then that’s ok, I just need to adjust over the following few weeks.

I’m enjoying eating more fruit and veg, enjoying the after effects of exercise although it can still be a struggle to get moving, and slowly the weight is dropping. And yes, I bought Withings scales (and the blood pressure monitor too as that’s the main driver behind my weight loss).

All of this is helping me be better at taking time for me, and that has in turn lead to some other discoveries about myself. Things that have always been there but have lain dormant, things that I am now starting to explore and question, everything from my sexuality, through religious beliefs and on to politics.

I am also much more confident in being honest. That will include here in time (it’s still one thing to tell family and friends, quite another to spill with you lot), but by now the people who need to know already know.

One thing I am carrying over from last year is removing as much negativity from my life as I can. I wasn’t the happiest person (particularly at work) in the latter half of 2011, but I’m rectifying that. I have so little to complain about I really should just get on with living my life.

But I’m still not ready to write it, not sure if I ever will. Such is the downside of being ‘known’, for not hiding myself behind an online persona. There are people who I just wouldn’t want to read what I wrote, not friends or family as they know me well enough. No it is the individuals who would judge, who wouldn’t understand, or who may take my honesty and openness as an invitation to think that we suddenly shared an affinity of some sort through some weird presumption that our experiences are common to one another (they are not).

I don’t make friends easily – I’ve said this before – but I do have many acquaintances. Most of the people I work with I’d consider to be an acquaintance, people who share a small part of my life but who, increasingly (and this is due to either age or seniority, I’m not sure which) I don’t want in the main part of my life. Some of the people I’ve met via this blog, or via Twitter, are definitely in that camp too, I keep my relationship with them firmly in the ‘online’ world.

Luckily I’ve also met some people online who I now consider to be my friends, I trust them and it’s only been recently that I’ve figured out why I am happy to consider some people as friends but not others, and it’s entirely down to my how I was raised by my parents.

Growing up my parents were always keen that I kept an open mind and that I should learn about something before dismissing it. I didn’t always follow their advice, but then parental advice is rarely considered in the immediacy of youth, but as a man I can look back and be thankful for the outlook it has given me. The ability to not judge someone, to at least try to understand – not necessarily agree, people who make that mistake irk me somewhat – is one that I share with those that I consider to be my friends.

What a funny word that is today in this modern world of ours. Friend. I digress.

I’m still more than capable of making bad, snap, judgements but I honestly believe in the following two, somewhat overused phrases “live and let live” and “life is too short”.

Of course this is all easy to say, harder to do.

Last year, towards the end of the summer I realised that I was feeding off the bile and ire of some of my acquaintances (online and off) and I decided I would do my best to, gently, remove those influences from my life. I rarely set out to hurt people, if ever, and whilst I can be selfish and short-sighted at times, there is never any malice in my actions.

But not everyone shares my view of the world, this murky grey mish-mash of emotions, thoughts, desires and wants. And neither they should.

I’m in an open relationship with an amazing woman, I’m comfortable with my lifestyle, happy with my sexuality, and whilst I have depression for the majority of days it behaves and stays locked in its box. None of this defines me, nor allows you to say you know me.

But then – and I’ve said this here before too – those that matter don’t mind, and those that mind don’t matter.

And so it was that Kirsty and I spent a lovely day just wandering about, no real aim at all. We dumped our bags at Paddington left luggage (yes, we included a marmalade sandwich just to make sure) and decided we’d head for Convent Garden. On the way we stopped in this shop and that, had a coffee here, and then we stumbled across Artbox which prompted the following:

So after buying just about all the panda related goods, we meandered some more, walked past Gok Wan and then it was time to head back to the station. A bite to eat and it was time to go home

That said, it was nice to have no plans and just let our feet decide where to go. I do love me a good wander.

As ever I find myself conflicted about London. I love the diversity, the choice, the buzz of the place, can’t stand the sheer volume of noise and people. At present I also have more acquaintances down there than I do in my hometown (although that’s changing) and it does seem a better fit for my lifestyle. Not that I think a move is on the cards just yet but… who knows?

All in all it was a fab weekend. I do love visiting London, and it’s twice as much fun when you get to meet lovely people, and spend it all with a lovely woman (who was a little bit nervous at meeting all these new people but I don’t think it showed!).

We had a bit of a lie-in as we discussed what we were going to do, neither of us had anything we were particularly bothered about but having checked a few maps we decided the Design Museum would be a reasonable way to spend a few hours as we were planning to meet up with @jtopper, @lipsticklori and @manda_jones in the afternoon, and my mate Keith (he’s one of those weird people not on Twitter) in the evening. First things first though, breakfast!

The aptly named Breakfast Club wasn’t far from us but we decided to head to the station and see what we could find on the way. Glad we did as we had a delicious breakfast at Foxcroft & Ginger, well worth dropping in if you are in the Shoreditch area. After that we jumped on the train and headed to the Design Museum.

I’ve never been before and, if I’m honest, it was a tiny bit of a let down. Probably more due to the exhibition that was showing (Conran) than anything, I love the idea of the place and there is some fun stuff on the top floor. After that we wandered along the river towards Borough Market, stopping whilst @kittykirstykat bought a new hat and scarf (the wind was bitter on the riverbanks) and then onwards to the market itself.

I knew of Borough Market but, again, had never been. How we managed to negotiate it without buying anything is a mystery. So many delicious looking stalls, covering just about every kind of foodstuff I can think of, the smell alone was heavenly as you wandered along. Passing BBQ stalls, huge pots of soups and ghoulash, enormous wheels of creamy French cheese, fresh fruit and veg stalls, sparkling displays of fish, rich slabs of meat and that’s before we get to the breads and cakes. Food heaven and, in the midst of it all, The Market Porter. Nice little pub made all the nicer by being able to score a table and the arrival of Jon, Lori and Manda.

At this point I’ll only say that beer was had (tasty tasty ale from Devon I think), chats, laughters and other such frolics were partaken of, and tentative plans were made for another trip back to London sometime. We also learned the “on my penis” joke which about sums up the contents of that part of the evening.

Then, all too soon, they were leaving and, as if by magic, my mate appeared! No, he isn’t Mr.Benn.

More drinks followed and then talk of some much needed food prompted a wander back to the tube and back to… The Breakfast Club! Now, I say a ‘wander’ but my mate is 6’4 and is quite happy to motor through the myriad of tunnels and footpaths to be found in the London Underground, so let’s say it was more of a ‘focused charge’. Regardless, after a quick shoogle on the Tube we arrived at our destination. As well as dinner we were, apparently, going to ask to meet the Mayor.

Food was had, more chat and nonsense and, once again all too soon, my mate had to head off leaving Kirsty and I to meet the Mayor. Which we did. If you ever go, it’s probably worthwhile doing the same, or at least asking, he’s not always in…

And then, all of a sudden, it was Sunday.

First, a confession.

I’ve become increasingly glib about travel. Rather than stress about every detail of the entire trip I have a much more relaxed approached these days, presuming that each leg of the trip will take care of itself. I may need to revisit this attitude.

I booked our room for the weekend, at a new budget range of hotels called Tune, back in November last year. I knew I had the confirmation email so thought nothing of it until Thursday night when I was checking the location of the hotel to figure out the train journey from Heathrow. I do remember, on Thursday night, thinking:

‘Hmmm, that’s a bit further away from the Theatre than I thought… must’ve been a really good deal!’

And so it was that, after an uneventful flight, a quick train ride to Paddington and then a few swipes of our Oyster cards, Kirsty and I wandered out of Lambeth North tube station, crossed the road and went to check-in at a hotel where they knew nothing of my booking. We checked surnames, booking references and, finally, the address of said hotel.

Yes, that’s right, we were in the wrong Tune hotel. The one we wanted was just off Liverpool Street, which was considerably closer to the Theatre than the hotel were standing in. In my defense, the hotel I had booked has only been open for 3 weeks and didn’t show on Google Maps, hence my confusion… that and the fact I’m a knob, of course.

The show we were there to see was called Comedy Sex and was the ‘baby’ of Zoe Margolis who, according to her tweets, finds it very straightforward and relaxing to organise such an event. Or, you know, the opposite to that… regardless, the night was seamless, the acts were brilliantly entertaining and there was a definite ‘here to have fun’ vibe from the audience. It was all in aid of Brook, the UK’s leading sexual health charity for young people, so kudos to Zoe for pulling it all together for charidee (more on the stellar lineup in a moment).

Before the gig we met up with @miketd and his lovely partner @ktd, @jonnyb, @andrewviner, @stevenixon and @jtopper, a few light ales and some food later (in a rather nice pub called The Harrison) and we were on our way to Bloomsbury Theatre where we got to say hi to @lipsticklori and @manda_jones before the show started (more on those two later).

Not knowing many of the acts other than by name, I wasn’t really sure what to expect but Al Murray proved to be an excellent host, keeping the evening moving along nicely. Standout acts for me were Scott Capurro (tears of laughter!) and Helen Arney, but the calibre on display was excellent, not a dud amongst them: Al Murray, Helen Arney, David Baddiel, Mitch Benn, Scott Capurro, Richard Herring, Robin Ince, Shappi Khorsandi, Matt Parker, Jay Rayner, Kate Smurthwaite and Catie Wilkins. Billed as a “one-off” event, I sincerely hope it isn’t!

Post-show drinks in the Phoenix Arts Club (where we also met @encratica and bumped into @mrangry) was a fun way to round out a wonderful evening of filthy laughter in the company of  lovely, friendly, funny, and engaging people.

As no member of my family has ever said, Ye cannae whack it!

Knackered and at just the right stage of happy/tipsy Kirsty and I gave up about 1.30am, stumbled out into the cold London air and headed back to the (correct!) hotel.