Tuesday, 21 December 2010

Hurtling back to Fat

In time honoured tradition, no news is indeed bad news in this little corner of blogland. I am not pointing and I am eating more chocolate than is reasonable. In good news, I have broken my obsession with The Big Purple One (still love them, it’s just I can live without having one for days at a time) and I’m not doing my usual pac-woman impression of eating everything in sight; there is a modicum of moderation but only a mini-modicum. I have had 4 days where I’ve overeaten though – resulting in me going to bed feeling stuffed full and uncomfortable. I absolutely hate that feeling and I need to remember that before I scarf a massive bag of crisps in lieu of dinner (last night – washed down with 4 Welsh cakes with extra cinnamon and some dates and walnuts).

I also made my first batch of mince pies last night. I decided that rather than keep eating poor mass produced ones, my own with my orange pate sucree and mincemeat and pecans marinated in Cointreau. I also only put a pastry star on the top rather than a whole lid, which must reduce a few cals, right?! The pastry was actually too soft (it does have 2 egg yolks as well as orange zest and juice in it) and more like playdough, so I need to have another bash. I am not a lover of pastry but pate sucree is lovely – especially my orangey version.

I haven’t dared weigh myself but I rather fear that my jeans which were getting rather on the loose side are now rather on the snug side.

If life were remotely fair, I would be losing weight at an alarming rate just trying to keep warm. It’s freezing in London. In fact, it’s rather a lot colder than freezing. We went up to the tinhut on Saturday. It was actually colder in than out! Bf went to the loo and the water in both the cistern and the actual loo was frozen solid – as was our olive oil. Too solid to break even! We couldn’t put the heating on for fear of cracking the pipes but put 2 fan heaters and went out for 3 hours. We came back – it was still frozen solid. We went home, driving through a blizzard with the piled up snow and ice scraping along the bottom of the car. I left a greenhouse heater going on a frost setting so that it comes on when the temperature falls below +5oC. We’re hoping that will be enough for us to get there between Christmas and New Year – we’re wanting to walk off some of those Christmas calories (and possibly re-ingest them a bit!) with a 12.5 miler one day and shorter walks on the other days. But if everything is still frozen solid, we’ll have to have a city break chez nous instead. Which I suspect means films and loafing – not as good for us, especially since I suspect we’ll still do the re-ingesting!

Will try and post more from my rut of depravity (food-wise) before we break for the orgy of calories that is Christmas.

Thursday, 9 December 2010


After having to - literally - beg, I have tomorrow off from work. So the weekend starts here. I'm not using a precious day's leave for anything exciting - I had to book my car in for a service which I did back to back with my mother's so we can use a car whilst one is done. I have a rather sad little OAP banger (a moss encrusted, dirt-engrained, pranged Rover 25) - and the bill was so extortionate that I suspect I have paid the full value of the car again to have it done. It now has a stereo as well though so is probably in shock. Especially since they tuned it to Kiss FM.

I'm also having my hair done (in even more desparate need of maintenance than my car!) and am hoping to squeeze in a spot of Christmas shopping - especially since I need to get quite a few children's presents. There are suddenly seem to be a lot of children in my life - people seem to be breeding like rabbits! None of their offspring have (discernable) twitchy noses and whiskers though! I struggle with children's presents as I am child-free myself and am always in a fervour of anxiety as to whether I'm going to get it right or not.

Then I have my dress rehearsal for my second choir's Christmas concert which is Saturday night. It's hilarious - I am by far the youngest member and they all talk to me in bright, enthusiastic, encouraging tones which makes me feel like the child they seem to think I am! Poor bf is dragged to more choral things than I think he would choose to be but is very long-suffering. We have 2 performances next week to go to (proper choirs - including the Sixteen (v exciting) - hmm, perhaps that Rover 25 and I are well matched!) and he has my other choir's Christmas concert to get through yet too.

With all this, you'll perhaps indulge me in a short rant. WHY are there grown women wearing hats which are panda bear faces - with ears? I've seen enough to make them a significant minority and am appalled every time. Then I followed a woman into the office (in her 50s) who had a Tintin rucksack. Now, I like Tintin as much as the next woman. More, probably, unless she is Belgian and patriotic. But a rucksack emblazoned with Tintin imagery? Er no. Not even if Mulberry made one.

Tuesday, 7 December 2010

Purple haze

You know that things have not been going well when you weigh yourself (a feat of some heroism in my case – I felt the fear and I did it anyway) and are relieved to find that you have STS. I put it down to being frequently cold, especially when wading through knee-deep snow as I have not been pointing this last week – there has been severe provocation, I hasten to add. First there was my mother’s birthday, then the snow and being snowbound and my boss’s extreme passive aggression over this when I finally made the epic journey in. Then we had a great meal at the Hotel Inspector’s Crown and Castle in Suffolk – lovely food, great service, gorgeous toasty fire. Then there was the adventure of Saturday night which I described thus to my friend yesterday:

We go to freezing tin hut, I flush the loo and it sounds like a slush puppy machine. We leave and go for lunch (that bit was good). We come home and bf has a post whisky nap (and wine and beer). I notice a spreading wet patch next to the bath. I wake up bf with the words "So what does a burst pipe look like?". This does the trick and he springs to his feet. I go out in the cold and the dark to turn the water off, bf takes the side off the bath and identifies a cracked pipe where water is coming out "like a water pistol". We tog up to walk to the on-site staff who shrug and direct us to a 6 year old Yellow Pages "in the thingy". We had to question closely to establish what "the thingy" was - a phone box. The only 2 numbers which are still current and anyone answers, decline to come to a mobile home. We pack up and leave at 8.20pm. It is dark and rainy and there are patches of thick fog. It takes me 3 hours to drive home (bf regretful that his lack of sobriety forces him to take the back seat (driver)). I have a headache, I am fed up, tired and hungry. I stop at McDonalds at 11.30pm and eat Big Mac and baby (cold) fries. Then a Big Purple One.

Actually I should refrain from eating too many Big Purple Ones lest I become a Big Purple One (I am fond of purple) in the same way that I fear I am becoming the embodiment of Ginger Pig (Big Purple Ginger Pig anyone?!).

On Sunday I decide that to use the unexpected and unwanted time in London to proper effect, I’d try to get a coat that kept me slightly warm. Since it’s absolutely bloody freezing. We drive towards Bluewater only to find that the queue to get off the motorway on to the turn – before the shopping centre is even open – goes back over a junction. Coat hunt is instantly aborted and we go to Wahaca for lunch. Which includes a shared portion of churros with hot dipping chocolate and cold caramel. We then have canap├ęs for supper with red fizz and a glass of sherry. And a Big Purple One. Only a slight return to sanity (and a side order of laziness) prevents me making mince pies.

Anyway, the coat story ends well with bf buying me a terrifyingly expensive coat from Hobbs (olive and heather herringbone tweed) as an early Christmas present last night. I have resisted buying a decent coat since embarking on LL (4 years ago?) on the basis that I won’t know what size I am the following year. Well, of course I am still hoping to be much smaller next year but based on performance thus far, it seems silly (and chilly) to procrastinate further (and maybe I could have it taken in? You know, if...). I bought the smaller of the two sizes I tried on – even bf (who inclines to brutal frankness) said the larger one was too big. The smaller one (my current dress size) is slightly snug and I mustn’t allow Christmas to make it impossible to wear. Or there will be questions in the house. Or the flat/tinhut anyway. So really I need to lose some in order to mitigate the inevitable putting on over the Big (Purple?!) Week.

Today is not a good day to decide on this. Tonight is our work party. Groan. In a Chinese that was closed down for maggots in the food last year. Bet it doesn’t stop me though! Unless there are actual maggots of course – even I wouldn’t scarf those down. I won’t drink for fear of becoming very frank with some of my colleagues which saves a) calories and b) drunken consumption of anything and everything. As it is, I was forced to issue the following after threats of “super-fun party games” – “I think I have made my position on this clear. Greatly as I esteem you all (or most of you), I will not be participating in anything that requires bodily contact with any of you. Fact.”

Then on Saturday we’re having a festive supper with my mother before our carol concert (assuming we can actually get to a rehearsal or the actual performance) but then I think, think, that’s it until Christmas proper. Assuming I don’t fall headlong into a vat of Big Purple Ones (or its evil twin, the Big Gold One), and if I can negotiate around the maze of disaster that is the propoints labyrinth, then I ought to be able to lose a bit, don’t you think? And we have walks planned for in between Christmas and New Year – including our marathon 12.5 miler which we’ll have to set off for at c9am to get back before dark. That ought to burn a few calories. But I fear Chubby is still but a distant dream.

Thursday, 2 December 2010

Snow joke

I am stranded in North Kent. I went to my mum's for her birthday after work on Tuesday night - what should have taken an hour and 20 mins, took 5 1/2 hours. We had to cancel our birthday plans yesterday and instead took the dogs for a strenuous walk in the deep snow (my calves were burning - not enough to clear the snow but it felt like it) and then walked a couple of miles to a restaurant for lunch. Today I got up early, walked 3 miles through snow that went over my (long) wellies at times to the station, waited for over 2 hours for a train in the freezing cold and then walked back to my mum's (snow still over the wellies and falling all the time). I want to get home! It's less my dedication to my job and more a desire to get home that's prompting me on. I'm going to try again at 3.30pm. We have a nice weekend in Suffolk planned that I'm keen to be safely home for!

In the meantime, I've eaten both biscuits and chocolate and am making no attempt to point. It's nigh on impossible whilst I'm not in control of much and I'm just so flipping cold and tired. I'm hoping that all the wading through snow will offset this but I dare say I'll regret it!

Hope you're all snug and warm - and at home!