Tric Kearney: 'I decided it was better to die on a hill where others might think I was a fitness freak'

I am in full January mode, struggling to remember what year it is, searching my bank account for traces of money and wondering why my jeans have all shrunk.

Christmas may be a distant memory to some but it’s still with me, filling the space that used to be my waist. Every mince pie drowned in cream is sitting there, as is the three boxes of Lindor washed down with a vat of wine.