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Flabbergasted
I feel very tired this morning and didn’t want to come to work. I think I slept well, but maybe I didn’t. I even surprised Furtle by musing over the possibility of pulling a sickie, but I didn’t and here I am.
I am doing without my customary breakfast of sossidge and egg sammidge and just having coffee; today is the branch lunch and I don’t want to wander into the place already pleasantly full. As in the past couple of years, we are wandering around the corner to ASK in Victoria Street. Pizza isn’t everybody’s idea of a Christmas lunch, but we all like their pizzas and I’m not sure anyone could be arsed to organise anything more traditional or more exotic. So pizza it is.
After the Christmas/New year period is over I shall have to make strenuous efforts to cut down on such fripperies and try to tackle the Lea paunch. After seven months off the smokes I can report that I still gasp for air coming up the not-overly-steep hill from the Tube station. Whilst 7 months of abstinence after 30 years of smoking will not be enough time for my lungs to repair themselves, they are much better than they were and the recovery time from walking up the hill is shorter than it was and also the strain is less. Nonetheless it is still more than it should be. So it must be the lard. Since Furtle wants to lose weight too, I think that in the New Year we will have to make a concerted effort to bite the bullet and do something about it and not just talk about it for once.
That’s a shame because I have to admit that I prefer to talk about it rather than actually tackle it; exercise is and will remain a four-letter word in the Lea vocabulary, but I suppose that something has to be done.
Still, I am not bothered about losing a vast amount of my vast bulk; just enough so that I can button up my leather jacket and breathe at the same time. That’s about three inches off the paunch, which must translate as a fair number of pounds…
Now, if only I could make fruit taste like cheese, I could order a really healthy pizza at lunchtime. As it is, I think I shall just have to savour the brute. I suspect that they will become comparatively rare treats along with most everything I like to eat.
Grumble.
Still, mustn’t complain, eh?
Nice late autumn/early winter’s day today. Crisp and chilly with the sun shining to lift the frost; I hear that western Scotland is much warmer. That’ll be the Gulf Stream. I think we have the better end of the deal, but then I don’t need warm air fanning under my kilt to keep me joffles warm.
I am doing without my customary breakfast of sossidge and egg sammidge and just having coffee; today is the branch lunch and I don’t want to wander into the place already pleasantly full. As in the past couple of years, we are wandering around the corner to ASK in Victoria Street. Pizza isn’t everybody’s idea of a Christmas lunch, but we all like their pizzas and I’m not sure anyone could be arsed to organise anything more traditional or more exotic. So pizza it is.
After the Christmas/New year period is over I shall have to make strenuous efforts to cut down on such fripperies and try to tackle the Lea paunch. After seven months off the smokes I can report that I still gasp for air coming up the not-overly-steep hill from the Tube station. Whilst 7 months of abstinence after 30 years of smoking will not be enough time for my lungs to repair themselves, they are much better than they were and the recovery time from walking up the hill is shorter than it was and also the strain is less. Nonetheless it is still more than it should be. So it must be the lard. Since Furtle wants to lose weight too, I think that in the New Year we will have to make a concerted effort to bite the bullet and do something about it and not just talk about it for once.
That’s a shame because I have to admit that I prefer to talk about it rather than actually tackle it; exercise is and will remain a four-letter word in the Lea vocabulary, but I suppose that something has to be done.
Still, I am not bothered about losing a vast amount of my vast bulk; just enough so that I can button up my leather jacket and breathe at the same time. That’s about three inches off the paunch, which must translate as a fair number of pounds…
Now, if only I could make fruit taste like cheese, I could order a really healthy pizza at lunchtime. As it is, I think I shall just have to savour the brute. I suspect that they will become comparatively rare treats along with most everything I like to eat.
Grumble.
Still, mustn’t complain, eh?
Nice late autumn/early winter’s day today. Crisp and chilly with the sun shining to lift the frost; I hear that western Scotland is much warmer. That’ll be the Gulf Stream. I think we have the better end of the deal, but then I don’t need warm air fanning under my kilt to keep me joffles warm.