On Saturday night we went to a beer festival. It was all for charity, as they reminded us in the programme:
You get a glass on arrival then you get stuck right in to your choice of 77 different ales. I reckon the best strategy is to go for the one’s with the funniest names, such as Enter the Flagon, Sheepshagger’s Gold, Old Fecker and Laughing Gravy.
Only problem is I can’t stand beer in any strength or shade, so I sampled the ciders instead. I’m not much good with cider either but the words of the programme haunted me:
"I know this is difficult but please keep fighting those drinks down, as every pint is more money for the lifesaving work of The Anthony Nolan Trust…"
So in this photie I am absolutely shitfaced from a wimpy pair of pints, right before the dancing began and I knocked Gareth’s glass of Farmer’s Pale Ale all over his head with my stylish moves.
No alcohol-related hangover on Sunday, just one of those reality hangovers. I did really well in New York with my food – the now tried-and-true tactic of being choosy then savouring the goods. But when we got home it was a week of back to school blues – we both picked up rotten colds so moped around having a Who’s The Most Unwell contest with multiple takeaways and minimal vegetables. On Friday I ate cake for breakfast on the premise that I’d forgotten to bring a spoon to work for my yogurt and muesli… ignoring the seventy spoons in the office kitchen… hmm hmm.
I made a Comeback Curry last night – packed with spinach, butternut squash and black beans – with the aim of starting the new week as I mean to go on. I’m still barking and snottery so had to bail on kickboxing tonight, but I’m determined to have a healthier week. It’s taken a long, long time to accept that this maintenance lark means that you will go through unsettled periods. The only way to prevent them would be to live like a robot – never going anywhere or doing anything or interacting with the humans. That doesn’t sound very good, so I’ll dust off the dumbells and veggies and get back to it.