It was late 2005 when it dawned on me that I was fat. Well, actually, it was pointed out to me by my neighbour Steve, who has subsequently expressed guilt that such an unkind suggestion might have escaped his lips in-between swigs of Foster’s lager. In the greatest traditions of matrimonial delegation, Steve’s penance is now being paid by his wife, Sarah, who has kindly agreed to act as ‘Treasurer’ for my charitable endeavour.

I had to admit, though, that Steve was correct. Earlier that year I had enjoyed a trip to Spain where I had met up with my cousin and my brother. I remember being a bit reluctant when they had proposed a late afternoon swim, and it was only later that I realised my reluctance was because I was ashamed of my pale blubbery body, clearly displaying the consequences of having spent well over 30 years in a sedentary occupation.

The next shock came later that year when the local Rotary Club offered free blood pressure tests to passers-by. Mine was 162 over 98, and the nice nurse (whose name I now know to be Jane) suggested I see my doctor, who promptly put me onto some suitable drugs.

I had, by then, decided that walking would be a very suitable retirement career, but became concerned that being both fat and having high blood pressure might thwart my plans, big time. So, off to the gym I went.

When I make my mind up about something I can be a right bore. Visiting the gym 6 times per week enabled me to reduce my 14½ stone bulk down to 12 stone in just 6 months. My friends told me I had gone too far and had made myself ‘gaunt’ and I should put some weight back on. However, for my height I was, theoretically, at my ideal weight. I stuck to my guns and, over a period of time, my friends desisted. They either got used to me, or my fat reserves redistributed around my body to make me look less anorexic. My blood pressure also came down to teenage levels and my resting pulse rate dropped low enough for the Army to classify me as fit.

I now continue with the gym regime of aerobics and weight training roughly 3 times per week, but also undertake some significant walking activity at least once per month. I have had some great times in the Welsh mountains over the past few months, including a walk across the snow-covered Carneddau in Snowdonia with a local outdoorsy group called The Outcasts www.the-outcasts.hampshire.org.uk. Their name makes me think of how I sometimes feel when I invite certain friends to join me for a walk. However, they are a good bunch and I am sure that they will be delighted that I am doing some free promotion for them.

On the run-up to my three-month-long trek I will keep up the gym training and regular walks, and in the Spring I will spend a preparatory week in the Lake District to test out my equipment.

One thing still puzzles me, though. Even before I lost weight, I could still walk pretty rapidly up hills when I wasn’t carrying a rucksack. Carrying a rucksack load of, say, 15kg (just a little under the 2½ stone that I lost) obviously slowed me down. After losing weight, I thought that I might be able to walk up hills as rapidly with a 15kg rucksack as I previously did without. However, I am sure this is not the case. I would welcome any explanations of this if anyone would like to CONTACT ME.