Dreams are not fattening

Wednesday November 16, 2005

It’s turned beautifully cold. Close to zero overnight, rising to 5 or 6 during the day. And, for the most part, dry and sunny. Not so cold you can’t go out, but bracing and energy-giving when you do. This is what I call healthy weather.

For all that, we had a lazy day today, with only a quick dash to the supermarket to break our idleness. And quite right, too. Graham needed to rest up after his trip and I needed to rest up in sympathy.

Our food intake went a little wrong, however, mostly because I had a nine p.m. cut-off before starting a 12-hour fast for my blood test in the morning. We were late getting out, late having lunch, and very late getting to my post-lunch nap.

“I don’t think I’m hungry enough for dinner,” I said as the evening wore on.

“Me neither. What will you do about your fast, then?”

“Oh, I’ll have a plate of fruit and a glass of wine now, and call it a day. Means I’ll be starving by the time I get back from the doctor’s but I’ll survive.”

“Does it mean no coffee?”

“Yup. I can drink water but that’s about it.”

“Rather you than me.”

So, after a lazy day, I took a draught of cool, clear water, and tumbled into bed. To dream of food, like as not.

Ah well. Dreams, so far as I know, are not fattening.


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