In the weeks since saying goodbye to mum, I feel both the loss of my parent and the loss of my ally in the adoption of random health and fitness advice – gobbets of information that we accepted without science or reason. Because we were both so accepting of novel and unsubstantiated wellbeing advice, I took our approach to be the norm; it is only now that I realise I will be travelling as a solo health guinea pig without the reassurance of my trusted co-pilot. Go gently with me please.

Now if I speak my latest health whims out loud, I see incredulity written large in the face of others. When did the world become so risk adverse and evidence-driven? What happened to trust?

Let me give you an example. A couple of months ago, on waking from a snooze, mum chanced to read a headline in the Telegraph supplement which was lying in her lap. She looked up at me and shared, ‘apparently bingo wings are an early indicator of dementia,’ She held my gaze meaningfully for an uncomfortable length of time and then dozed back off leaving me to question whether my upper arms were threatening to get jiggy with my future health. Ironically – or evidentially, you choose – she would later share that I had made this story up because although we rifled through her weekend papers together we could not find the headline again. She told me to stop flexing my biceps in protest, and forgetting that I am vegetarian, advised me to help myself to her bulk stock of fish oil tablets.

Sadly mum had made the transition to her new spiritual health spa before I could share the breaking news from another weekend newspaper that the nation is apparently seeing a worrying rise in diagnosed cases of ‘dormant bottom syndrome’ – or to throw some Latin at it – ‘gluteal amnesia’. I for one find it very difficult to forget my derriere because it accounts for so much of my total body mass, but I am alarmed to discover that ‘lazy bum syndrome’ rather than long distance running may be the cause of my dodgy knees and some recurrent back pain. I must get off my backside and research this properly; mum would expect this much.

In my defence, our collection of useful life hacks did mum no harm for she lived 98 full years- admittedly it has been difficult to explain to my siblings why there are so many bottles of white wine vinegar, aloe vera and Royal Jelly stashed in her under-stairs cupboard, but I decide not to use the argument that mum’s own bingo wings could have been an earlier indicator of retail amnesia if my siblings had only been more observant. Instead I offer a home to the full stock of snake oil products because I have absolutely no idea which one of these items proved to be the elixir of mum’s impressive long life.

Meanwhile I have sought distraction by trying to convert ‘Himself’ to my latest heath hacks. I have enjoyed only limited success. Annoyingly he appears to require the scientific research paper and peer review behind each new health assertion and – as you know – I am not a detail person. However, after eventually persuading himself to act as a reluctant and grumpy guinea pig substitute, I share the ‘scientific’ results from recent experimentation. The peer reviews may follow once Prof. Gwyneth Paltrow gets back to me…

• Epic fail on taking a spoon full of vinegar before a meal to stop a glucose spike. Himself appears to be allergic to vinegar and was gagging even before the bottle was open. In contrast, it turns out that I quite like the taste of vinegar and Himself has accused me of sneaking it into any dish that now leaves my kitchen. I have no idea if it is my glucose level or my refreshing new amuse bouche which is ‘spiked’, but at least this vinegar cocktail has cured my Pepsi Max addiction. (I would also add that Himself seems to have no issue with adding vinegar to his chunky chips #justsaying).
• Resounding fail on adopting the principle that coffee should be taken only after breakfast. Himself argues that coffee is a standalone ritual and must come before both his first, second and third breakfasts. At least this discussion has indicated that his glucose spike may be coming from the number of his breakfasts rather than their content. I may have to seek further ‘medical’ advice on this. Himself states that ‘Breakfast like a King’ has scientific provenance; I have asked to see the research paper.
• No results yet on the assertion that carbs should ‘never be eaten naked’: I have wasted so much time explaining to Himself that this means eating veg before carbs and never carbs on their own (rather than ensuring you have at least three layers of clothing on before you approach a bowl of pasta) that we have not had any time left to cook the pasta and test the theory.
• The jury is out on Foot Swiping. All that is needed (apparently) is 2 minutes of foot swiping on a rough mat to activate your nerve endings and stimulate your circulation, but it transpires that Himself has been gamely – and indulgently – rubbing his tootsies on a fluffy rug while wearing his favourite bed socks. I am not sure that we can use this starting point as a control benchmark for improved circulation and he has just requested a pair of thermal socks for his birthday, citing ‘cold feet’ about my research methods.

In mum’s absence, I am impressed that Himself has offered his services so gamely, but as co-conspirators go, he is a tad lack-lustre and far too cynical. He even challenged me on why I am so interested in health and beauty hacks when I spend my time at school teaching students that we should ‘love the skin we are in’. I do not answer straight away because I am distracted by a new assertion in my broadsheet of choice that eating dark chocolate could/will whittle 5 inches off my waist. I realise there will be little point in taking this information back to my new research partner, for he has no surplus muffin top to lose and he is likely to point out that I have already discovered dark chocolate and so will only be adding calories by eating more of it. I will have to take this hack on my double chin and act as a silent – but happy – guinea pig.

Maybe I will just chat to mum in my head about my latest foray into wellbeing rather than seek an appreciative audience. I feel certain that the woman who shared my delight in the enjoyment of dark chocolate would agree that dark chocolate-covered cherries (just discovered them in Waitrose – #foodofthegods) must be a strong metaboliser, combining as they do antioxidants as well as flavanols. She would see no contradiction in the scenario of my developing gluteus amnesia while I concentrate on whittling down my waist measurement – justified ying and yang in the search of some quantitative evidence. I argue that it would be a shame to see mum’s chocolate stash go to waste and that the extra life span I may accumulate in this scientific project will leave me ample time to worry about my dental bill.