Clocking up the miles

I'm not one of these natural beauty types. I need make-up, hair straighteners and sympathetic lighting to look good, and exercise certainly doesn't help. While some women take on a healthy, radiant glow after a bit of exertion, I just go blotchy and wild-looking. As a dear friend who comes from Liverpool is fond of saying, I look like five kinds of s****.

So when I went to inspect myself in the mirror in the office loos yesterday after my lunchtime walk, I was disappointed but not particularly surprised to discover that I looked like a frazzled tramp who had just run away from a vicious dog after spending a night in a skip. My hair was a fuzzy, unkempt mess, my skin had taken on the mottled colour of a partially-cooked pork and leek sausage, and my nose was bright red. My mascara had smudged down my left cheek and the bottoms of my black tailored trousers were splattered with mud.

Now this state of affairs would have been acceptable if I'd just attempted the London marathon. But in fact I'd simply power-walked into town to grab some bread from Baked and had an afternoon of meetings and conferences to look forward to, for which I'm expected to look relatively presentable - or at least not like a complete hobo.

The selection of fresh bread at Baked yesterday

Baked is the amazing bakery and cafe in Derby where the owners Tony and Victoria get up at crazy-o-clock every morning to make their own fresh bread and cakes on site. But I really wish I could move their little shop, on The Strand, just a bit closer to the Derby Telegraph offices.

I feel the same about Jack Rabbits, the brilliant deli on Queen Street which is also just a little bit too far away from work for comfort.

It means my lunchtime shopping trips have become mad power-walks rather than relaxing strolls, but on the bright side I reckon I must be clocking up the miles and burning those calories. I've plotted the usual route I take into town and worked out that it's a round trip of just under two miles if I want to go to Baked and Jack Rabbits on my lunchbreak. So if I do this several times a week, and add in a couple of other little walks to some of my other favourite places, then this challenge to avoid supermarkets is starting to look a bit like regular exercise.

I've always been rather dubious about exercise. I'm the polar opposite of sporty and at school I was always the one picked last for team sports like rounders. In fact, I believe on one occasion a team actually elected to play with one man down rather than take me off the bench. And gyms leave me cold - why spend your free time pounding an indoor treadmill like a hamster on a wheel? It's lucky I ride horses or I'd probably be the size of a house.

But I reckon My Year Without Supermarkets might actually be boosting my weekly exercise intake. Rather than shuffling out to the car and driving to Morrisons or Tesco, then gathering my shopping in a trolley, I'm walking to local shops on an almost daily basis and then retracing my steps carrying heavy bags of shopping.

Thankfully places like Baked are worth making the extra effort for, because their bread is better than any supermarket bread. I will cheerfully walk for 15 minutes and spend the afternoon looking like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards to keep myself stocked up with their ciabattas and brown rolls. And seeing as their food is so moreish it's probably a good job I've got to do a bit of exercise to get to it! In addition to the bread I bought a chocolate brownie yesterday (purely in the interests of journalistic research, obviously) and it turned out to be the best chocolate brownie I've ever tasted in my entire life. If I ever find myself on death row, Baked brownies are what I want for my last supper (perhaps with a little side order of mashed potato - just for good measure).

I made the mistake of promising to share my brownie with my colleague Whaddy, one of the Derby Telegraph's sub editors, but as soon as I took a bite I regretted giving half of it away. I tried to persuade Whaddy to give it back to me but he wouldn't, and then I tried threatening to put a photo of him eating it on this blog as a deterrent, but it still didn't put him off - he just kept right on eating.

"Mmmmmmmm brownie"

So here's Whaddy, stuffing his face with Baked chocolate brownie, which he also agreed was the best in the world (and this man has one hell of a sweet tooth so he knows a good brownie when he tastes one).

Unfortunately we'd scoffed the lot when we both realised that it might have been nice to put a picture of the brownie on this blog too. So you'll have to take our word for it on how amazing it was.

And I think I need to be careful - what with all the messy lunchtime walks and stuffing my face with goodies, 'My Year Without Supermarkets' could soon turn into 'My Year of Looking Rough and a Bit Podgy'!

'My Year on a Diet' could be coming to you soon....