Diets

This morning we were up early because Himself has trouble with his sinuses. He’s also decided to go on a diet but the two are not in any way related. For those of you that know us, this diet is not necessarily anything to get excited about. He has been known to change his mind.

It started when we were in the pub having a quick drink on Saturday before getting a takeaway. (Given the announcement on the news recently that households of our income are officially on the poverty line, but we will be paying more tax this year, we are eeking out our frivolity money.) He went off to the gents and came back and took a gulp of his wine.

“I think I need to lose a stone,” he said.

I sat there, wondering what had happened in front of the pissoirs to make him come to this decision. “Why?” I said.

“I looked in the mirror and realised I have a tummy,” he said.

This is true but given that we have very few mirrors in our household – I mean, who wants to look in them anyway – it’s possible to escape knowing what you look like. Or ignore it if you’re as blind as I am.

So as from yesterday the diet is on. This means cutting down on things like butter, bread and cheese – and of course wine. He was very restrained last night. We’ll see what things are like by the end of the week.

Cynical, moi? No, but realistic.