It's an effort of will, losing weight. A long, hard slog to fit back into the clothes I loved, to achieve the ability to run without breathlessness, to make the world see me as more than some big, jolly bloke who hides behind an even bigger laugh.

I know from experience that when I'm slim, I'm more productive and more easily excited by the prospect of going outdoors, so going back is the best thing I can do. That and ignoring utterly the people who tell me they prefer me the way I don't want to be...

Comfort, in small doses, is a wonderful thing, but if I have learned anything it is that too much of a good thing is wonderful, but only for a little while