Thursday, 14 February 2008

Z fears the consequences

Eating out is the difficult bit, isn't it? Sometimes there isn't anything that you 'should' have. And I hate being fussy and making a thing about what I eat, especially if it makes other people feel they shouldn't be enjoying their meal. What I generally do is simply leave some food. In London this week, I never cleared a plateful.

Conveniently, I don't include meat, fish, simply prepared vegetables, rice or potatoes as foods to avoid, this time round. Nor wine. At my age, I need wine. And whisky. And the occasional beer. So I have a fair bit of scope. And eating slowly because I'm talking so much is useful - gives other people plenty of time to fill their faces while I have a couple of forkfuls. On the other hand, of course, I'm paying for this delicious and expensive food, so have to remind myself that food I don't really want is just as much wasted by being eaten as by being left on the plate, where at least it does no harm.

Fell down a bit in London, I must say, though I did have the least decadent pudding on the menu, which was poached rhubarb with basil ice-cream. Very good it was too and I ate three-quarters of it and passed the rest to my daughter. I have no idea if I'm up or down or what, as a consequence. I'm - this is going to look really silly - I'm afraid to weigh myself. What if I've put any weight on? I'd be really fed up if I had to start again and lose 3 months of being careful (careful by my standards, I mean of course).

I'll read this again tomorrow and be so disgusted by my silliness that I'll weigh myself at once. Before breakfast, of course.

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