Tuesday, 15 April 2008

A man who lives fully is prepared to diet at any time ...

Yes, well, the wheels have rather come off - not aided, today, by the fact my mother brought 2 bags of Twistees with her from Malta, and I scarfed them both with the gusto of a hound dog. Each bag is over 17g fat, and some 260 calories. I am doomed.

I've been muckle busy over the last few days. On Friday I went down to Edinburgh. I think I had a couple of bits of toast for breakfast, soup and a sarnie for lunch, and I definitely had Pro's lovely Thai curry for supper. Snacks included two little bits of rocky road minibites from M&S.

I was in Edinburgh because the next morning, bright and early, I was starting my massage course in Peebles. I'd swotted like a crazy person and was sure I'd pass the closed-book test on cells, tissues, regions of the body etc. Unfortunately, it turned out we weren't to have the test until the next day, so we all had to sweat it out for another day. And sweat it out is right. The room in which we're learning is dark, with the blinds always drawn across the windows, and either too cold or way, way too hot. Just after lunch, one of the girls was standing right by the window as we witnessed our first massage. I heard what I thought was a snore, looked up and thought: has that girl fallen asleep on her feet? She then gave another snore, and I realised she was on the verge of fainting. I sharply called her name, at which she started to keel over, and spewed. Lovely. One of the other girls got to her in time to support her, and gave her a towel. The bloke who was being massaged (the instructor's husband) leapt off the couch in his Next undies, and helped her out. There then followed a bit of fuss and kerfuffle which really only served to utterly mortify the poor girl, who didn't look entirely charmed to be fussed over by a bullish man in underpants. When she was settled, sipping water and cross-legged on the floor, the bloke went back to the massage table, saying, with hefty irony, to his wife:

"Don't forget to cover my dignity with the towel, love."

It broke the tension, at least.

Back in Edinburgh that evening I went out for supper with my ladies in waiting to chat about dresses (ostensibly - although we kind of covered that before hand, and spent the rest of the night gabbing about other, more interesting stuff) and had half a bowl of calamari soup, then sea bass. It was all only tolerable, unfortunately, but the company was excellent and the atmosphere suitably cosy. (Other food eaten: 2 pieces toast - white - with butter, a small cup of soup and a white roll).

Sunday saw me back in Peebles for day 2, and the closed book test. Our instructor had assured us it would be easy - which, considering the pass rate was 100% was reassuring - but it wasn't. There was one question that was particularly cheeky, not being in the literature, or even in the list of things we were told to memorize. Needless to say, I didn't get 100%, getting 3 questions either wrong or incomplete - but I just have to answer them orally next time and all will be well. There were no vomiting incidents, and I ate a cheese and ham sandwich for lunch, with Fisher making canelloni with a tomato based sauce for supper. I ate too much of it, and also had a snack of a teeny tiny bag of chocolate buttons. However, considering my food intake over the weekend, I was seriously disappointed to discover I'd put on a pound when I weighed myself the next day. I suppose I ought to have predicted it, as weight loss for me is very dependant on the time of the month, but I'm sure that the added pound affected me psychologically. I have a bit of a tendancy to say well, I fucked up, I may as well have a bit of a binge then get back on the wagon on X-day. Having said that, I really wasn't so bad as all that ...

Well ... actually ...

We went to Glasgow to see Sister & Sons, also my mother, and over the course of the visit I have eaten:

Dim Sum. Quantities of said dim sum should be swiftly glossed over. On the other hand - I've found a fab dim sum restaurant in Glasgow! Brilliant! It's been so long since I've had decent Chinese food. It's a restaurant on Sauchihall Street, and is called the New Loon Fung. I recommend it highly, and it was full of Chinese people which is generally a good sign.

Later that day, I had a chocolate milkshake, which made me feel sick. I then had supper in the hotel restaurant, consisting of 3 courses: goat's cheese tart (not on my diet), sea bass (a-bloody-gain) and a plate of cheese. Not impressive.

Aside from eating, we did do some other stuff in Glasgow. While Sister went to IKEA, Fisher, Ma and I took the boys to Pollock House Country Park, where they played in the playpark and then did a bit of exploring in the grounds. Then followed the evil milkshake as Sister took the boys to Burger King for supper. Then back to the hotel, supper for us and bed.

Next day, we had a leisurely breakfast from about 8.30. I had a bowl of muesli, orange juice, a 1/2 piece of toast with butter and a small bit of honeycomb, and a small vat of coffee. I filled Gemmill's head with all sorts of nonsense about animals, and then got tangled up over worms. I can never remember whether that thing about worms living if cut in two is a myth or not. So I promised to buy him a book about animals, which led me to take him to Waterstone's after breakfast, while Sister took Wrecker to Yorkhill hospital for his check-up. £94 later, I left Waterstones. I'd bought 2 books for myself, one for Fisher, and the rest were all Gemmill's. But they were so good for him! Reference books about nature and dinosaurs, a bug-gathering pack, and a book about the human body can hardly be called spoiling him, can they? Ok, so he also got a storybook about a dinosaur, and Wrecker got a Pepper Pig book, but that's not overindulgent is it?

Anyway, just as we were sitting down to grab a cup of coffee, Sister called to say their appointment was over, so we forewent the coffee, jumped in a cab and met them at Yorkhill. We bundled Gemmill and Ma into Sister's car, bade them all fond farewell, and then headed back into Glasgow for a little impromptu shopping at Hobb's. I bought a pair of linen trews and a blue top, Fisher got a lovely teal top, and we left with joy in our hearts, to meet Pistol for lunch.

Hurrah for Pistol. He's always great company, and he took us to a lovely, lovely pub called the Butterfly and Piglet - also on Sauchiehall Street. We had mushrooms on toast to start, then I had a vaaaast trout salad, and a few bites of Pistol's sticky toffee pudding. It was all lovely, and the pub is eccentric charm personified. The menu is eclectic, to say the least, and worded in such a way as to strike confusion into the hearts of any foreigner. It's all riddles and puns. "Fish 3.14" for example. I'll leave you to figure it out.

After lunch we took Pistol home, then drove home to discover the dogs had been very naughty for Lu, who'd had to bathe them, not once, but twice. They'd also, apparently, worked in tandem to knock her Maltesers off the chair and gobble their scattered goodness. After that they were very subdued. I'm not surprised. I'm not brave enough to take chocolate away from Lubentina. You'd have to be a crazy fool - or two adorable cocker spaniels who can just about get away with not being skinned.

Supper consisted of the aforementioned Twistees, and a bowl of Coco Pops later on. I appear to have regressed to age 7. Tomorrow, I'm getting back on track - even though my PMT has now turned into MT and is therefore threatening to sabotage everything by forcing images of Praline Flakes through my head ever 5 minutes.

I'm to bed.


Lu said...

The thing about worms is a myth :( If you cut a worm exactly in half, you get two dead pieces of worm. If you cut it with slightly more on one side than t'other (all to do with the "saddle") the longer side lives and regrows, the other bit dies. Reason people THINK it's true is that the death throes and posh-word-for-electrical-pulses-after-death go on for a loooonng time.

Scary to think how many poor worms have suffered cos we've all tried it out!

My other random gardener's worm fact is that they drown in very little water. If I've depressed everyone now, my work is done...