disordered
I’m eating a Marks & Spencers Rocky Road Mini Bite. Fugg it, I’m eating two. It’s OK, though, cos lunch was a Spicy chicken and prawn low fart fat Laksa (the wind will probably come soon), and a punnett of tiny plum tomatoes. Yesterday’s weigh-in brought the good news that, in the 7 weeks since returning from holiday, I’ve managed to lose almost a stone-and a-half.
The weekend was truly packed with good stuff: From a lovely Friday nights dinner at Thirty-Two Great Queens Street (a lovely trio of grilled sardine with a panzanilla salad - illegal as I was to avoid carbs after 2pm - preceeded by a truly wonderful steak tartare) on via the Box Bar, where Carlotta and I were happy ogling the Brazilian and other assorted Latino trade, until I noticed that I’d seen six post-gym, buffed, shaved, plucked, waxed and unreally (and, really, unfairly) gorgeous men arrive single, but that each had been wearing the same A&F polo shirt. A real mother-of-the-bride moment, and one that, we felt, it would be best not to witness (I could just see the “Oh no chu di’ unt,” but was afeared that they’d all be experts at Capoeira and I’d get my (again, illegal) half of lager knocked over.
Saturday was a late lie in, a snuggle with the hubby, an ‘Autumn is coming, bring down the sweaters, put away the short sleeves’ day. Most fo the sweaters looked really raggy so ended up in the charity pile. As, now I think of it, did many of the short sleeves. Ah well, the new job will hopefully allow me to spend on seasonal wardrobes again.
Made various ’security copies’ of some great music I’m loving so I can share them with friends. But remember, kids
Sat night we watched ‘Hot Fuzz,’ and I can heartily recommend it. Funny funny funny. If you haven’t seen it, see it.
Sunday, continued the tidying, went to Gym and killed myself on the cycle/rower combo, watched a Doctor dvd, and also saw “Stormbreaker,” and “The Butterfly Effect.” Both fine, but my life was not changed, and yours will not be lessened by not seeing them.
This week, started a new story (yayayayay! at last), had a few ideas for essays / blog posts, sorted out our set up for our new multi-room sky+ (like tivo, for those of you outside the UK), arranged to have the central heating overhauled, resolved an issue with my bank account that should see me getting a couple of hundred quid back (yayayayay! at last!!), spoke to the ‘rents to let them know i’m popping over to Dublin this weekend, ate the afore mentioned lvoely lunch (and am now craving more rocky road mini bites. Damn!), and have generally enhjoyed myself at work. Can you tell I’ve quit?
Tonight him indoors and I are off to see some theatre what he won tickets for. It’s a new experimental piece, ‘enabled’ (I’m told) by Tom Stoppard and Harodl Pinter, performed by a group of young and deadly serious drama school acolytes, and with a soundtrack of aburdist noise designed to evoke the past whilst being firmly fixed in the present, and played on a zither / harmonica / shoebox setup. The piece is about the futility of the Iraq war at a time when the west has lost faith in our religions, our leaders and our ability to, it says here, cut loose. It’s called Footloose. I hope it’s good, although if it’ snot, I’m at least having some more carbs before it (fringe benefit of staying up later).