Vinny girds his loins to prepare for a healthy future

AGAINST THE ODDS: A festive trip to Nuremberg is meant to herald the dawn of a new era

VINNY FITZPATRICK could feel the snow and ice scrunch under his feet as he followed the cobbled path upwards towards the sugar-topped castle atop the hill.

His rosy countenance, steamy breath and glistening brow were lit up by the numerous lanterns, borne by fresh-faced kinder, who walked in their midst, belting out carols with Teuton zest.

"Ange, hold up a minute, will you love, I'm banjaxed," he called plaintively. Turning, Angie stopped and smiled as Vinny tottered towards her, his "scotch eggs" a little unstable under his considerable bulk.

"You know what the doctors said, you have to exercise more," she said smiling, before linking arms with her over-weight sweetheart. "C'mon, lean on me, we're almost there."

As snow flakes fell gently, they continued their climb to the gates of the magnificent "schloss", which overlooked the Old Town of Nuremberg.

There they watched in wonder as over 2,000 children, lanterns aloft, retold the Christmas story, accompanied by songs, in tableaux form. "You don't get this in St Gabriel's in Dollymount," thought Vinny. It was the 60th anniversary of the famed lantern procession to Nuremberg Castle, the highlight of Vinny and Angie's "honeymoon" to the historic Bavarian city which celebrates Christmas like no other.

The past four days had been a whirl of carols, candles, cruising on the Main-Danube canal, and daily visits to the famed Christkendelsmarkt in the heart of the Old Town.

Vinny, who loved all things Christmas, had been wowed by it all, from the brightly-lit tannenbaum fir trees, covered with angels and ornaments; to the spicy gingerbread, fruit loaves, sweets and the "plum people", delicate figures made from prunes. There were over 180 stalls, several of which were serving acclaimed Nuremberg roast sausages and mugs of mulled wine.

He would gladly have submerged his porcine-loving jowls into the trough but Angie had refused to let him off the leash. "One sausage and one glass of wine only," she said firmly. "How are you going to get back to health if you keep indulging yourself?" As he nibbled rather daintily on Nuremburg's finest pig flesh, Vinny knew Angie was right and that his carbo-loaded routine had to change.

He had given everyone, including himself, if truth be told, a fright on the wedding day the previous Saturday when he keeled over in the registry office and was rushed by ambulance to St Vincent's Hospital. He couldn't remember much until he came around on a trolley and saw Angie standing over him. For a moment, he thought he was in heaven with angel Angie but then he threw up, splattering a whiskey-whiffed vomit all over himself, and knew he was still alive.

The medics had kept Vinny under observation for 48 hours, running a battery of tests to establish why he had lost consciousness. The outcome of their examinations made Vinny's rapidly clotting blood curl.

It was Monday morning when the doctor, a dapper Indian gentleman who looked a bit like the Mumbai maestro, Sachin Tendulkar, delivered his damning verdict on Vinny's health.

"Mister Fitzpatrick, we believe you fainted two days ago due to an overload of greasy food and neat whiskey in your stomach, an oppresssively warm room and, most pertinently, your poor physical condition," he said.

Vinny had felt encouraged. "Sure, anyone could faint," he said cheerily, squeezing Angie's hand and giving her a broad wink.

"Mr Fitzpatrick, your health is not a laughing matter," said the doctor, a mite testily. "If I may continue," he added. "We have given you a thorough examination and find that your general well-being is extremely weak.

"Not only are you four stones overweight, your blood pressure is dangerously high, so are your cholesterol levels. In our estimation, you are at serious risk of a heart attack, stroke or angina. Do I make myself clear, Mr Fitzpatrick?"' Vinny gulped, Angie gasped. "Oh Vinny love, what's going to happen?"

"What will happen Ms Mooney is that Mr Fitzpatrick here is not likely to see too many more Christmases if he continues with his current way of life. He must make changes, starting now, before it is too late. A nurse will be along shortly to advise you on a proper health plan. Make sure you observe it. Good day."

With that, he was gone, leaving Vinny and Angie alone.

"Ah, sure Angie, don't mind yer man," said Vinny doing his best to he jocular. "I'm grand. I've had two days rest and feel the better for it. Look, I'll go easy, I'll get out for more walks and promise to cut back on the chips.

"I'm only 50, the back nine has just started and I intend to finish the round, with you as my partner, so no fretting now. I'm so sorry about toppling over in the registry office. We'll reschedule, as they say, but not before we go to Germany as planned." Eyes shimmering, Angie bent down and gave Vinny a kiss on his potato-shaped head, "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. You're my rock," she said.

They were interrupted by the arrival of a tall, thin nurse who resembled a stick-insect and carried a clipboard under her oxter. "Now, Vincent, I've drawn up a lifestyle plan, which you must adhere too.

"Firstly, your diet. Do you do the five-a-day?" she asked, peering over her pince-nez spectacles.

Vinny coughed. "Not every day but at weekends I might stretch to seven or eight, depending on the craic in Foley's," he said.

"I don't mean alcohol, I mean fruit and vegetables," hissed the stick-insect. "Your diet of fatty foods and stout has to go. From now on, the basics are fruit, fibre, broccoli, beans, brown rice, and fish - minus the batter. Do I make myself clear?"

As the implications of his new menu hit home, Vinny winced. He was what he ate and the notion of a life without curried chips, King crisps, large bars of chocolate and Uncle Arthur's finest was one he could not countenance. Christmas was coming and he was one goose who was quite happy to get that bit fatter.

As he furrowed his brow, Angie snapped him back to reality.

"Vinny, look at me. We'll go to Nuremberg and have a good time, with one or two restrictions. When we come back, you're moving in and I'll watch you like a hawk. Whatever it takes to get you on the road to full health, I'll do it."

Six days later, Vinny and Angie held hands as they made the descent from Nuremberg Castle. They made an odd couple, one light on her feet, lithe and stunningly attractive; the other, a shuffling, wheezing wreck, for whom, like Prospero in The Tempest, the revels were now ended.

Bets of the week:

2pts Henrik Stenson to win South African Open (15/2, Paddy Power)

1pt win War Of Attrition in King George VI Chase (21/1, Betfair)

Vinny's Bismarck

2pts Lay Blackburn to beat Stoke in Premier League (Evens, liability 2pts)

• Roddy l'Estrange is on honeymoon until January 14th.