Ready, steady, go … and the high-heid-yins are off and running in a bid to get everyone else, well, off and running.

The idea of making Aberdeen the most active city in Scotland by 2020 is a worthy aim. But, to be frank, the Active Aberdeen Partnership will have its work cut out for it shifting some of the bone idle off their couches.

You know the ones – the folk who think wheezing their way to the cupboard for a six-pack of McCoys constitutes exercise.

The ones who cling to the belief as potatoes are vegetables, then chips count towards their five a day. Those who are convinced taking enough fluid involves drinking more Stella.

The ones who think eating less and moving more is for suckers because, let’s face it, something will get you in the end. The ones who won’t even make the effort of trying.

The fatties.

I know whereof I speak. I was one. A daily diet of egg and lorne softies for breakfast, steak pie and chips for lunch then Chinese takeout for tea made me Jabba the Hutt.

Then, one day, I had an epiphany – well, two.

One was being mistaken for Charlie Allan at an EE schmoozing function.

The other was my mate Brendan rediscovering his love of cycling and turning into a racing snake before my very eyes. When I asked why – between gulps of ale and mouthfuls of crisps – his answer was brutally succinct.

Along the lines of: “What we do now decides how we live out our 60s, 70s, 80s.”

In short, you can be a sprightly, bright octagenarian – we all know one – or one of the walking dead – we all know some.

Which is why I started seriously watching my weight and running.

I want my later years to be golden, not grey.

And that message applies at any age, not just middle-aged fat guys.

I still eat pies (occasionally), I still enjoy a swallie (not so occasionally) but I still move more and eat less than when I was Buster Bloodvessel.

Does that sound smug? Yeah, of course it does. But if a non-sporty, food-and-booze-loving, creature-comfort craving cove like me can do it, anyone can.

The trick is to get that message across to the diehards who think they won’t die. Because they will.

Use common sense in winter gritting

THE nights are fair drawing in, which means we’re on the slippery slope to snow and ice arriving.

Thank goodness, then, the brains trust of Aberdeenshire Council is hard at work planning how to grit the pavements when the temperature plummets. Although I’m not convinced planning is the right word.

The pen-pushers are busy deciding which streets to grit before 8am, depending on how big the town is, how many businesses are on the street, how many folk use it, how low the temperature is forecast and whether it’s a Tuesday. Okay, I made the Tuesday bit up. Here’s an idea … just go back to the days when common sense meant you gritted pavements when it was snowy and icy. Like we still pay you to do.