Hello, darkness, my old friend...

...which has nothing to do with it, although when I was sitting at my desk this lunchtime, I could feel the familiar soreness in my hip and it seemed almost friendly in a peculiar way, in that it was familiar and sort of part of my life. Until I noticed that it was the wrong hip. That was a bit disconcerting. I won't do strenuous post-bank-holiday-guest hoovering again for a bit - the sort that involves moving all the furniture.

When the Sage asked me if I was going to cycle to Yagnub, I quoted Eliza Doolittle; at least the first three words were a quote as I did not declare an intention to hire a taxi. But when the time came, it seemed just too winpish to get the car out to drive less than a mile and a half, so I biked in after all. Later, I made a big pot of vegetable soup and we had that for dinner with cheese scones. The other day, the wholefood shop was right out of ordinary yoghurt and I've been told how solemn plain soya yoghurt is, so I bought the goatmilk sort. I had a cautious spoonful this afternoon. Goaty, yes, it is. I'm not sure I can eat it straight. I used a good dollop in the scones and I'm trying to think of ways to use it in cooking without the Sage noticing.

I've not been very energetic for the past couple of weeks in an exercising context, because I've been quite busy and the weather has been bad. I'm not cycling in strong winds, because that would be really silly. The only point of that would be if I fell on my right hip and got an early implant, but the Law of Silly-Buggers surely dictates that I'd break something else instead.

I ate and drank silly amounts over Easter - nothing awful, just an increase in the usual, which meant a strong urge to eat pumpkin seeds and such sensible-sounding but deceptively oily snacks, while standing at the Aga, cooking, yesterday. Hence today's regime of porridge, cottage cheese, rice cakes, chickpeas, fruit and soup. And the cheese scones, but they were small and not very cheesy so I think I'll let them pass.