On a hot, Saturday morning I made my way into work to join Royal College of Midwives members, their friends and families and a handful of work colleagues to march in London Pride 2018. As soon as I emerged from Oxford Street Underground Station I knew it was going to be a great day. There was still another two hours (allegedly) before the march set off but there was already a feel good atmosphere. Most of the shops were displaying some sort of support for the event and the baristas in my local (to work) Starbucks were dressed up to party.

Apparently over 30,000 people took place in the march with and estimated one million  lining the streets to support it. Not bad given that a certain football match was kicking off sometime during it.

But getting 30,000 people lined up is a logistical nightmare. We never found our ‘spot’ and the event organisers seemed as baffled as we were. We finally positioned ourselves between a Brazilian organisation and the Chartered Society of Physiotherapists. The former being the most flamboyant. Exposing  a lot of buttock and teetering on breathtaking high heels.

Although you get told that the off is at 12.00 it was well pass 1pm before we set off. And ​​standing in the 30 degree was a little uncomfortable so we needed consoling with lager.

But then we were off. Due to how the organisations are  fed into the main parade we found ourselves behind the vehicle of an, allegedly, well-known DJ. Not that I had a clue. The only DJs I know are Tony Blackburn, Noel Edmonds et al. The list is longer but I’ve not included any historical sex offenders. This DJ had ‘cool’ or ‘kool’ in his name. Unfortunately his banter and playlist were severely limited which became a little irritating after a couple of hours. And every few minutes he would exit his van dressed in a brocade dress coat to strut about and high-five a few of the crowd. Definitely not  ‘cool’ by my definition but what do I know. But can anyone enlighten me as to who he is?

On a positive side being behind him meant that we had music to dance to. We had a great time. We received  a lot of cheers from the crowds as we walked by waving our flags. I think people are still surprised to see us at Pride.

It was an amazing atmosphere. One big party.

The Great North Run is now nine weeks away so I need to get into some serious training. I had thought when I got a place that training in the summer was going to be some much easier than my preparation for the half marathon I ran last year in April. I can recall running in cold, driving rain one Sunday afternoon. None of that this time. But I hadn’t factored in the longest heatwave for 42 years. I’ve managed 3 runs this week. One along the canal in Leeds and two around my local park. All at 7am. And it has been hot. I return red of face and dripping. I’m hoping for it to cool down a little so I can get my long runs in. I need to be running for 10 miles by the time September comes. I’m currently only at 3 miles.

My fat loss ambitions remain unachieved so I’m going for a different approach. I’ve downloaded the MyFitnessPal app onto my phone. I’m counting calories. Already I can see that I have been eating too much. The mindless eating being the main saboteur.

Finally, a sad anniversary. It is two years tomorrow that my best friend lost her life to bowel cancer. I still miss her. I think I always will. I still find myself thinking ‘I must tell Denise’. But her determination to fight the disease and live to be 60 is why I write this  blog. Life is precious. It is to be enjoyed. Never regret getting older. We are the lucky ones.