a challenge. It’s hard to avoid
carbs and alcohol when hotel
minibars are stuffed with
chocolate and wine, and there’s
often complimentary biscuits
provided with the tea and
coffee-making facilities.
However, the choice was
clear. Carry on as before
and face a lifetime of medication
and health issues or radically
alter my diet to try to nip
Type-2 in the bud.The diabetes epidemic is
a global problem, mainly down
to a sharp rise in the levels
of obesity. I know it’s ultimately
down to all of us what we
eat, but my God, there’s a lot of
sugary stuff out there. Just
a quick stop for a coffee in the
service station and you’re met
with more muffins, chocolate
shortbread, pastries and cakes
than you can shake a stick at.
Surely these chains can do
their bit, and offer some
sugar-free options... just to give
the stressed, the sugar-hit-
craving and the sweet-toothed
a fighting chance?
I’ve been back to the doctor
and the months of doggedly
sticking to a low-carb, no-sugar
regime seem to have paid off, as
my haemoglobin number
was back to normal. I could
have merrily carried on until I’d
unwittingly sailed through the
grey zone, into the red, were it
not for my sarong serendipity.
None of us knows what’s
around the corner but,
submitting to ‘the flow’, travel,
much like life, can sometimes
lead to an accidental and
life-changing discovery.Li fe is sweet
Bill Bailey’s
I know it’s ultimately down
to all of us what we eat,but my God, there’s a lot of
sugary stuff out therelight rain was falling
as I descended the
steps of a Hindu temple
in Indonesia en route to
a traditional dance performance.
It had been a last-minute
decision, but I was now really
up for it, and perhaps this
eagerness, coupled with my
natural clumsiness, was
the reason I became entangled
in my sarong.
We were all required to wear
them over our clothes as a mark
of respect and they’d been
provided at the gate for a small
rental fee. Even though it was
a rental, and thus unfamiliar to
me, I’ll be honest, when it comes
to putting on sarongs, I don’t
know what the hell I’m doing.
There is some excellent
trickery to it, some kind
of ancient fabric origami that
I have yet to master. I always
end up with them either
comically knotted round my
waist like a giant hankie or so
tightly wound round my legs
I can only shuffle along like
a shackled prisoner.
This latter configuration was
to be my undoing, and after one
flip-flop became wedged up
my hem I overcompensated with
the other by hopping forward
and slipped on the wet stone.
Both my legs flew forwards, the
sarong fell off and I came down
heavily on my back, clonking my
head on a step in the process.
It was bruising, undignified
and, once it was established I’d
not sustained any serious injury,
hilarious to my teenage son.Back home in London a few
weeks later, I was still getting130 SAGA.CO.UK/AUG-MAG I^2018
A
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ANDY HOLLINGWORTH ARCHIVEthe odd twinge in my lower
back, so maybe I had broken
a rib after all. As a precaution,
my doctor suggested a urine
test to make sure that there was
no organ damage.
It turned out that my blood
sugar levels were raised,
which led to more tests and the
diagnosis of incipient Type-2
diabetes, albeit in an early stage.
I was, according to my doctor,
pre-diabetic, in the ‘grey zone’.
With a change of diet – and
lifestyle – I might be able to
control it.
This was going to be tough as
I was about to embark on
a 100-date stand-up tour and
healthy eating on tour is always