But it must be something that is comfortable and, more importantly, achievable. So my advice is make the aims something realistic.
I think that during these current times it is more important than ever to have goals, but not to have too many. Having too many or making them too difficult can lead to failure and a feeling of worthlessness. They mustn't be too difficult but it is also important to make them challenging so that you get a feeling of achievement when they are completed.
My aim to walk 100 miles during the latest lockdown month was challenging but comfortably achievable. It was challenging because it meant going out for a walk every day and walking an average of almost four miles each time. But it was well within my ability and scope. Had my aim been 500 miles I would have failed miserably and bitten off more than I could chew.
Yesterday, halfway through my latest walk, I clocked up mile 100. By the end of the walk I had clocked up over 103 and that's with another five days to go. Cue glowing feeling.
So how do you set a reasonable goal? Let's take walking as an example although of course it can be many other things. I worked out that four miles a day would be achievable. Over 28 lockdown days that would give me a distance of 112 miles. But you have to factor in what I call buggeration factors. Things like not feeling well, not feeling motivated and bad weather preventing walking. So knock three days off and you end with 100 miles -challenging but achievable.
Thankfully weather hasn't prevented me getting out, I haven't felt unwell (apart from one day after I had a flu jab but the feeling of lethargy soon passed) and I have kept reasonably motivated (mainly because most of the walks seem to pass Cafe Kin where I can recommend the chocolate brownies and the apple cake).
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At the top of this page you will see a photograph of a memorial being prepared to the memory of 97 men massacred at Le Paradis in Northern France on 27th May, 1940.
I have mentioned the Le Paradis Massacre on a number of occasions in the past as I am a member of the Le Paradis Commemoration Group and also a trustee of the Memorial Appeal Group.
We have been working hard over the past two years to have a permanent memorial to the 97 in Norfolk. There are numerous memorials in France but none in the UK. The majority of those who died were from the Royal Norfolk and Royal Scots Regiments.
Permission was kindly given by the authorities at Norwich Cathedral to have a permanent memorial in one of the bays round the back of Norwich Cathedral Close - fittingly in the next one to the memorial to Edith Cavell.
The lady working on the memorial at Cambridge is Lida Kindersley MBE. Lida is one of the foremost, if not the foremost, letter cutter working in the UK. It is hoped to have the memorial in place during 2021.
If you are interested in finding out more about the massacre, have a look at our website at www.leparadismassacre.com.
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I promised a couple of Christmas reminiscences in yesterday's blog. So here goes.
These were prompted by a message on Facebook from somebody who remembered a Christmas float touring Hethersett and wondering if anybody remembered it.
Well I certainly do because it would have been the Wymondham Round Table float which toured Wymondham and the surrounding areas as Christmas approached, raising money for local charities.
I don't remember too much about this float but I certainly do remember the Beccles Round Table float. Round Table is/was an organisation for young men under the age of 40. I was invited to join the Beccles Table by local garage owner John Gale when I was a young reporter in the Suffolk town.
Round Table was set-up to promote fun, fellowship and charitable deeds. When you got to 40 you were "chucked out" (that is the actual official phrase) at a special ceremony that could take many forms, some of which were too rude to mention in a family blog. You then qualified to become a member of "41 Club." I didn't actually make it to 41 club although I believe I still qualify.
Anyway the Beccles Christmas float was legendary in the area. It was on the back of a low loader and consisted of a house with a chimney which had steps up for Father Christmas to appear out of the top.
The float would be followed around the local streets by a gaggle of children - all out to wave to Santa who would give it "ho ho ho" large. Some of these may be grandparents by now!
We had a different Santa each night but there was a rush to sign up for the Worlingham trip. "You need to sign up for Worlingham" I was told. I didn't understand why as Worlingham was the next village and required quite a bit of leg work to get there. The float was always attended by numerous other Tablers collecting money for charity.
I soon found out why. Let's just say it featured lots of stops at outlying farms and lots of whiskey. By the end of the evening dear old Santa was what might be referred to as pie eyed and had to be helped up his steps towards the end of the evening. His ho ho hos became more hwas hwas hwas.
On another night there was an embarrassing incident. The local Rotary Club also had a Christmas float in Beccles. Rotary and Round Table usually put their heads together to avoid clashing over routes. On this evening both were out and one of the organisations, and I have no idea which one, got their route wrong. The result was a meeting of the two down Blyburgate with kids looking on in amazement as two floats each containing Father Christmas passed down the road. And what did these paragon of virtue Santas do? They pointed at each other and shouted "FAKE." Apparently our Santa was so traumatised that he took to the whiskey bottle again - secretly stored somewhere up his chimney.
Of course it was only in later life that I realised that Santa is supposed to come down chimneys and not go up them!
Mind you it wasn't the only time I had an embarrassing situation with multiple Santas. One Christmas I took my youngest son, who would have been very young, to Great Yarmouth and we had chips on the market and tried to ignore the country and western buskers in the market place (why is country and western music so popular in Yarmouth)? Anyway we finished our chips and decided to walk to the sea front. Our route took us past the Garibaldi Pub (sadly no more) and out of the door came no less than five Santas. My son pointed and screamed. I think it may have scarred him for life (and then again maybe not).
My final personal Santa story (until I remember others) involved another Round Table - this time in Long Eaton in Derbyshire. When you moved to another area you could join a new Table of your choice. As I was living in Long Eaton I decided on that one.
They didn't have a Christmas float but they did do Saturday shopping in the main street with Santa and his elves. For some reason I got picked to be Santa (probably the only one that could be talked into doing it just as, many years later, I would become Safety Sam the Norfolk Police Badger).
The thing is that at the time I was 26 years of age, short, quite slim and certainly not the kind of person that should have been playing Santa. But there I was ho ho hoing outside the shops and stupidly outside one the local pubs.
Now being a tad naive, I didn't realise that near Christmas (pre-COVID) there is a tendency at weekends for people to imbibe a touch more than they should. On this particular Saturday a group of youngish women came out of the local, saw me, decided I was too young to be Santa and decided to attempt to take off my beard and divest me of padding.
I believe I managed to get away from their groping grasps and regain my senses along with my beard and stuffing. I guess today I would probably just lie back and think of England.
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Finally today I hope you enjoy some of the photos taken on yesterday's Hethersett walk. This one was through Kissing Alley (actually can't remember going the whole length of that before) and down to Station Lane to end just before the bypass and then back via Cafe Kin (have I mentioned them before)? The light was good and there was some interesting tree shapes.
Oh and finally finally, the blue tits are back in our garden. Put some more fat balls (no jokes please) and nuts out for them and they came yesterday in their profusion. It was interesting to see a couple appear, take from the feeders and fly into the nearby trees only to be followed by droves more who went through the same ritual - probably aware of the local existence of a sparrow hawk. I would hate to think that we are luring small birds into the garden only to be accessories to their murder but it was so good to see them back again.
See you tomorrow.