Bath Travelogue

I went away to Bath last weekend with my very dear friend, Mrs Stacey. We met at University some 16 years ago (which now makes me feel hideously old!). We try and have one or two weekends away together a year so that we can meet on neutral territory and explore somewhere different and exciting or revisit a favourite haunt. Sometimes dancing (or ‘cutting some rug’) is a feature, but always laughing, shouting, eating, drinking, shopping, talking and pushing each other further and further into the realms of insanity will feature.

So, the first thing that happens is Mrs S picks me up from work and after stowing my suitcase on the backseat we prepare to leave. I make out that I am going to sneeze and get a paper napkin out of my pocket ‘Atchoo!’ I cry and fling the contents of the napkin at her…so she’s sat in the driver seat festooned in salt sachets and hysterical with laughter.

To explain: we have had an ‘in joke’ about salt for some years now. I was staying at Mrs S’ flat in Exeter and asked for some salt for my boiled egg. ‘You know’ she said ‘I never really thought about how much salt I ate until the government told me I wasn’t supposed to and now I just want to eat more of it!’. This culminated with us hanging out of the window shouting ‘We’re eating salt in here Tony Blair! And you can’t stop us!’. Since then the joke has been continued with the purchase of various salty souvenirs from around the world, acquiring salt pots on nights out and always including a sachet of salt in each other’s birthday cards.

The rest of the journey passed without incident…well other than some traffic.

We found the B&B and decamped to our room. It was clean and comfortable if a little on the small side with slightly chintzy furnishings. There was a nice garden with a sweet spotty bunny rabbit and a pond which contained an enormous Koi carp resembling a giant sweet potato.

Employing Mrs S’s plunger mug we brewed a decent coffee and caught up, setting the world to rights and hatching a plan about what we were going to do that evening. Mrs S writes this: http://afemaleview.wordpress.com/

So the mission was to visit some of the local real ale venues and try some ales. Since spending time with Mrs S I am not averse to sacrificing my beloved lager or red wine and be corrupted with a bit of real ale. I favour the lighter, fruitier ones but am happy to try most of them out.

First stop was here: http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/39/3959/Old_Green_Tree/Bath it’s a small venue but the landlord and clientele were welcoming. The bartender resembled Dave Grohl…only with a slightly wet look perm! We enjoyed a few ales in there but then went in search of dinner. Dinner was taken here: http://www.enzo-ristorante.co.uk/ and was very good indeed. Only problem being I’ve restricted carbs so much lately and foolishly devoured two pieces of bread plus a portion of pasta. I then became Mr Creosote but I did force down another pint in here: http://www.coeur-de-lion.co.uk/ this was Bath’s smallest pub, allegedly, but we did at least find a seat and some locals to talk about beer with!

Saturday morning. The B&B had some ridiculous 8-9 breakfast policy so we trudged over to the breakfast room just after 8.30. After we were seated we grabbed the menu. Mrs S lets out an audible gasp ‘They only serve instant coffee! I can’t believe that’. I certainly hadn’t spotted THAT on the website. I made do with some decaff instant (it resembled coffee only in that it was the same colour) and Mrs S took some tea. We opted for scrambled egg but Mrs S decided to have it with salmon. Whilst we waited I grabbed a yoghurt from the buffet section and then we both became hysterical as I tried a spoonful and started pulling faces at its’ vile taste. It must’ve had about a tonne of sugar in it and not only that it was Happy Shopper brand? Happy Shopper??! Didn’t even know that existed anymore!

Eventually the scrambled eggs arrived. ‘The salmon?’ asked the young boy serving and proffered a plate to Mrs S containing a whopping great salmon fillet! Not the smoked salmon she was expecting. We did not meet his eye but when he walked away suppressed more giggles and Mrs S mouthed at me ‘What the f***?’. ‘It’s that Koi carp from the pond’ I said mischievously and tucked into my unremarkable repast.

It was all very odd.

My Sister lives in Bath so I thought it only right to meet her and my little niece and nephew for a coffee. My niece was almost tripping over herself running down the street to show me that her toenails were varnished bright pink. She was very excited about it. It was nice to catch up with them, despite my nephew depositing crayons in my coffee not once but twice.

Of course the only sensible thing to do after having two coffees was to go and have another one with Mrs S. Which meant the next few hours were spent in a slightly altered state, tripping round Bath, laughing and shouting and trying not to murder the man on the street peddling bird whistles.

We went here for lunch: http://www.caferetro.co.uk/ and very good it was too! Mrs S had been about a million years ago and was pleased to see it was still in business and as good as she remembers. Would definitely go back! We whiled away the afternoon accessory shopping. I got a splendid unicorn pendant and Mrs S a red scarf. Then shopping all got a bit too much so we decamped to the Old Green Tree again for another pint!

Then the incident occurred.

We got back to the B&B only to find a bunch of keys left in the door to our room. Naturally we were quite concerned as someone could have let themselves in and helped themselves to our stuff. The more we thought about the wider implications we were furious. Mrs S (always good to know a Mrs S in a crisis…) went off to speak to the proprietors. Unfortunately only their daughter was available for comment. She did telephone her Father who later knocked on our door to apologise. Well, I think that was his intention; instead he just stood there laughing and joking and shuffling awkwardly and not really taking the situation that seriously. When we questioned if he would take this further with the guilty party he admitted it was his wife! and that yes, he would have her flogged, publically if necessary. And that was the end of that…Harumph.

We tried not to let his nonchalant attitude spoil our fun and promptly wolfed down some M&S snacks including their wonderful vine leaves. Then it was time to hit the town! First stop was here: http://www.theroyaloak-bath.co.uk/index.php?page=welcome and although they were pleasant enough and their ales were attractively priced, we weren’t really feeling the vibe so after sampling some of their ales, including one which had the aroma of a damp tea towel, We headed by taxi here: http://www.star-inn-bath.co.uk/

Now, this is where the evening sort of unravelled a bit. If you include the early evening pint when we were still out shopping then by the time we arrived here a fair few ales had already been sampled. As soon as we entered the establishment I knew it was going to be our kind of place, not least because of the tempting cheeseboard laid out on the bar to help yourselves too. There was an eye-wateringly strong cheddar, some Port Salut and it seemed we’d missed the boat on the Stilton. There was also cream crackers and some rather nice chutney (NOT pickle!). The pub was quite busy so we hovered by the bar, partaking in the cheese and drinking Bellringer. I can’t remember how we got chatting to the guy who was propping up the bar but very soon the conversation had turned to The Mary Whitehouse Experience, Dr Who, Hue & Cry and endless Kenneth Williams impressions. We also asked of him the Wicker Man question, which is what top 5 people you wish to send to the Wicker Man (please tell me yours in the comments). This prompted much venom and vitriol about Coldplay and also Jeremy Vine. It seems we had infiltrated the local branch of the Jeremy Vine Haters Club! But it broke the ice.

Add to that more real ales, more cheese and free snuff and an endless stream of bawdy men, comedy characters and a dog called Rupert and that was pretty much the flavour of the evening. Welsh Paul was a particularly endearing character who appeared in the pub not long after we did. If we had not been told ‘Welsh Paul is here’ then let me tell you, it would not have been too difficult to guess which nation he was so passionately representing! Dressed in red and green with Welsh dragons and flags attached to his person; he punctuated every sentence with ‘Boyo’ and kept breaking into a superb baritone rendition of ‘Bread of Heaven’. I expect if we had checked leeks, Welsh cakes and pictures of Tom Jones could have been found on his person. I kid you not.

Unfortunately the pub stayed open until just gone 1am…

Apparently I left in a taxi…?

Sunday morning. Ghastly hangover and time to face the surreal breakfast experience again. We both concurred we couldn’t be bothered with it but seeing as we had paid for it we thought we’d better. Once more into the breech… Breakfast room was rammed with the world and his wife so we were ushered to the sitting room to wait. Soon we were seated in the corner, adjacent to the Diana memorial pin up and a stag party. No fish today but we did notice that haddock and salmon fillets were reserved FOR ADULTS ONLY! Which of course made us hysterical again. Tardy breakfast service but I was at least equipped with some Quorn Sausages. They just helped slice through the vicious hangover.

When it came to check out time we simply couldn’t be arsed with properly handing the keys in. I was having one of those hangovers where I just couldn’t deal with talking to people and Mrs S thought it made quite a good statement to them after them leaving the keys in the door earlier! So we just left.

The rain started just as we arrived in bath so we fumbled for our umbrellas. Mine was tiger print and Mrs S’s was a fine leopard print specimen. As we were traversing the tourist central area I made a big show of pretending to be leading a guided tour, umbrella aloft. Outside the Baths there appeared to be some sort of animal print umbrella convention; so we fitted right in! Coffee was deemed necessary and we revisited Costa for a huge vat of fully loaded Americano. We became hysterical in there (yes, we do do that a lot) so had to leave and pull ourselves together.

Lunchtime came and we started perusing menus of the many pubs and tearooms in the centre. After some consideration we decided we did not want anything sandwichey but were definitely both in the market for a jacket potato (nothing like refined carbs when you’re hungover) and Mrs S possibly fancied some quiche (pronounced ‘kwitchie’). So the hunt began. We settled on a quaint little tearoom not far from the Abbey. All mock Cath Kidston table cloths, mismatched vintage china and youths in old fashioned dress. Jackets were on the menu as was quiche. Result! So in we went. Repressing the urge to get all ‘Withnail & I’ on them we were lead meekly upstairs. We both selected a jacket with vegetarian chilli and Mrs S disappeared off to the lavatory. An apologetic waitress appeared saying they’d just sold the last chilli so we’d have to re-order. Quandary: I just didn’t fancy anything else. They couldn’t even offer a bean & cheese substitute. Then Mrs S appeared looking alarmed ‘Their toilets are FILTHY’ she exclaimed ‘Filthy!’. Once I’d updated her on the lack of chilli situation we decided to scarper before we had to explain ourselves. What followed was a 30+ minute tour of the backstreets of Bath in search of jacket potatoes. Wall to wall sandwiches but no spuds! Typically we ended up about a stones throw away from the earlier place (filthy toilet) and had a lovely lunch without incident. Other than another tourist complaining about her scone and the idiots who had chosen to sit outside being caught in a downpour. Ha ha!

Other amusing things that were said over the course of the weekend, mostly by me, which even when you knew the context probably wouldn’t have made much more sense:

Me, flung forward in the passenger seat, choking on sandwich “Sorry it was the lorry!”

“F*** off you flatulent old whore!”

“Flatulent five am fruit feaster”

“I went to Thessaloniki and all I bought was this umbrella” and later as it disintegrated “It’s no wonder the Greek economy is shot to s*** if they can’t even make a decent brolly!”

“This place is just one big grockle magnet!”

“Why am I still holding your f***ing eggcups?”

And also an incident where I was asked to hold Mrs S’ umbrella ‘For a minute’ so I started a ridiculous ‘Countdown’ style theme tune culminating with me pretending to throw the umbrella on the floor once the minute was up.

Alas the weekend was over all too quickly and I had to catch my train whilst Mrs S had to drive back to Devon. But there will be other occasions and they can’t come quick enough! Time spent laughing with good friends is the elixir of life…

What's next...?

Last Saturday (no not the one I blogged about, the one with the Chinese supermarket trip, the beer garden and Amy Winehouse’s untimely death) I passed my assessment which means, if I wanted to, I can now work as a Personal Trainer.

It’s not been easy. Anyone who goes to the gym and sees PTs in action would be forgiven for thinking that it’s a cinch and that anyone can do that. Rather naively I thought my enjoyment of going to the gym and working out would naturally make me a good PT and that the course was going to be a piece of cake (hypothetical cake, natch, after the nutrition part.)…I was wrong.

If anyone has been reading this blog since last year they’ll remember that I found the first assessment excruciatingly nerve-wracking (http://woollysweirdworld.blogspot.com/2010/04/when-faced-with-my-demons-i-clothe-them.html ) they may also then question why I chose to put myself through the second, harder phase of the course? And yes, this was a question I frequently asked myself as I spent my two week holiday revising for a nutrition exam, I spent most of January and February desperately trying to learn all the ‘origins and insertions’ of the major muscles plus numerous other things for the anatomy and physiology exams that made my head hurt and my mind go blank.

In addition to this I had a three hour seminar every week, a two hour gym shift so I could hone my skills (endless inductions to people who expected just by turning up in some snazzy new gear they’d probably lose a stone) and in addition to that a couple of sessions a month on a Saturday evening. Yes a Saturday evening.

So a certain level of commitment was required.

But I did it.

Oh the relief! The euphoria! I had dreaded the exam and probably went to the toilet about 402 times that morning due to nerves. Even though my nemesis exercise (cable woodchop) was chosen on the exam, I had the internal verifier present and an added audience of the mad Thai woman who practically lives in the gym; I ‘screwed my courage to the sticking place’ and I passed.

Wow!

People are surprised when I say that, at the moment, I am probably not going to do anything with it. But, to use reality TV jargon, ‘the journey’ has been enough for me and the amount of knowledge I have gained not only to train myself more effectively (I’ll tell you once it starts working!) but also on the nutrition side (who knew white potato was the devil incarnate?) has been invaluable.

Trouble is, of course, there is that niggling little feeling; that omnipresent nagging doubt, the little whispering voices that creep into my head asking me what am I going to next? Because, dear reader, I am never satisfied. I always have to be doing something, learning something, achieving, learning new skills, picking up new hobbies, trying new things, ticking things off on life’s great ‘to do’ list. Why is this so? Why am I not content just to coast along with a 9-5 job then go home and watch crap TV until its dinner time, until its bedtime, until it’s time to go to sleep, wake up and do the same sorry routine all over again? Why do I always crave adventure, new experiences, and stimuli? Maybe, even at the age of 34 I haven’t reached my career potential or found my niche? Is it too late? What am I good at? What can I try next?

Questions… questions. Oh and they where rhetorical by the way.

I suggest you watch this space…

Last Saturday (Amy Amy Amy!)

Last Saturday my good friend Lady G and I took a wee road trip here :

http://www.seewooreading.co.uk/

I’d been lured by tales of Jackie Chan shampoo and the like so decided to give it a go. Suffice to say I was not disappointed with the array and quality of the goods that will enable me to further my quests in getting the authentic taste to my Thai cooking. I even did an air punch as I discovered a huge bunch of Thai, or Holy, Basil which I have never been able to purchase in the wretched provinces. I also snagged a jumbo bag of Kaffir lime leaves for the price you’d pay for a pot of about 6 in the major supermarkets. Resisting the stinky durian fruits and jumbo sizes Swiss rolls we returned to the car with our booty.

‘I don’t suppose I can corrupt you into going for an afternoon pint can I?’ I asked Lady G.

‘No’ she said ‘Because I was already planning on going for one too’. We laughed. ‘I even had a place in mind of where we might go!’.

‘Oh really’ said I ‘So did I!’.

Much hilarity ensued when it turns out we had earmarked the same pub. So off we went via Morrison’s (a.k.a ‘The Big M’) to get some supplies for that night, where Lady G was coming over to mine. When we walked into The Big M we both started grimacing and saying ‘Eurgh!’ in unison as we had both detected a foul stench. ‘What is that?’ we started saying to each other, then again in unison said ‘Smells like bum!!!’.

We were seduced by a trio of tapenade and compromised on a choice of cheese for the evening. Turns out Lady G doesn’t like anything blue and veiny you see. It all went a bit wrong as we were further seduced by a woman touting some Echo Falls wines with tasters and money off coupons. We both grabbed a bottle of dry rose.

There was an unfortunate meltdown at the petrol forecourt by Lady G, but after that it was off to the pub. The pub! Hurrah!

We got a good vibe immediately as we entered the pub as they were playing ‘Band on the Run’ by Wings. A song that has featured on road trips together and also been bellowed along to on one of our many Spotify evenings. I ordered a pint of Kronenbourg and after much deliberation Lady G went for a pint of Stowford Press. That was after we had conferred about maybe getting her just a half but asking for it in a pint glass. We got a water chaser also.

Off to the waspy beer garden we went to put the world to rights and enjoy our pints.

Mid pint Lady G announced she was off to the pisser.

(Now at this point I need to explain that the pub we were at is the same brewery as another local pub we frequent. For years this pub has piped various BBC comedies through the sound system in the toilets, rather than music. So often you’re sat on the loo with Delboy. Or someone will come back and report that ‘Kenneth Williams was in my toilet’. Anyway all this will become relevant a bit later on.)

Whilst Lady G was in the toilet I decided to have a quick idle on Twitter. Lady G had sent me a message from the toilet asking why I didn’t tell her her flies were undone! Rather more disturbingly there were also a couple of recent tweets from people saying that Amy Winehouse had died…

So, Lady G returns from the pub and proceeds to tell me how ‘something really odd’ had happened in the toilet. She then went on to explain how ‘You know when we’re down the PA and sometimes you can hear Only Fools and Horses in the loo?’

‘Yes…?’ I said.

‘Well I’ve just heard comedy in the toilets here!’

Of course, referring back to my earlier explanation it’s obvious (at least to me) that that is because the pub plays these. Lady G then offered up a baffling conspiracy theory that it was now being run by the same people as the PA and she always thought it was someone in one of the upstairs rooms with the TV up too loud! In normal circumstances I would’ve ripped her something chronic for a long time about this…

‘Never mind that’ I said ‘I’ve seen on Twitter that Amy Winehouse is dead…?’

We didn’t want to believe it, but of course it instantly seemed credible. We spent the rest of the time at the pub frantically checking Twitter feeds for more news. Some people were saying it may be a hoax so we dimly clung onto that for a little while.

So enough futile witterings on my afternoon with Lady G. And I didn’t even explain about how I came to have a post it note in my wallet saying ‘Medium helmet’ or about the spicy cheese…

I had always been a Winehouse fan. I stumbled across the album ‘Frank’ just after it was released and was immediately impressed at its’ originality, at Amy’s voice and also the lyrics certainly struck a chord as I was picking myself up after a relationship breakdown and was now being messed around by men again. And although the follow up, critically acclaimed ‘Back to Black’ album is more well known I think I still prefer ‘Frank’. The CD inlay has some lovely photos of a younger, healthier, curvier Amy playing pool. I think that is how I will choose to remember her.

Perhaps I have a bit more sympathy for people battling with addiction. Someone very close to me is a recovered alcoholic and although I didn’t know them at the time that they were experiencing that I have nothing but the utmost respect and pride that they did overcome their addiction and completely turned their life around. But of course you’ve got to want to help yourself…

R.I.P Amy

All new decaffeinated me...

Some of my avid readers (ha!) may recall that for Lent this year I went caffeine free. (see previous blog) Initially the experiment was hard but I persevered with it. I learnt several things in this time:

1: Berocca may be you but on a really good day but it also does alarming things to your waterworks

2: Decaff coffee in most establishments does not really taste of much. I considered suing under the trade descriptions act.

3: Decaffeinated Diet Coke is the holy grail of soft drinks.

4: Morgan’s Spiced does not really work with any other mixer than cola.

5: Once you get past the unpleasant smell Rooibos tea is really rather nice.

Easter Sunday heralded the end of my self imposed caffeine ban and I was rather looking forward to making a cafetiere of real coffee. But when it got down to it I actually did not fancy it and waited a further 24 hours before risking it. I brewed the coffee with some trepidation and deliberately made it fairly weak. To be honest, it tasted ‘ok’ but was not worthy of the build up I had given it. In fact I think I talked myself into having a headache shortly after imbibing it.

A few weeks on and I’ve been sticking with it, more or less. I’m still drinking the Rooibos tea and enjoying it and the few times I have given into ‘real’ strong coffee; man have I paid the price! Last week in Madrid (following a particularly large night out) I felt the necessity to drink 4 cups of rocket fuel coffee before mid day and this resulted in me having some sort of episode where I thought I might pass out: palpitations, sweats, feeling edgy and paranoid. And no, it wasn’t just a hangover.

I know now I’ve got to ration the caffeine and that I don’t need it to function and to find my get up and go. The few times I’ve given into a good cup of Joe since the experiment have made me skittish, over animated, fidgety, talkative and the coffee has gone through me like a freight train…!

Nostalgia IS what it used to be...

Last week my good friend Chris and I went here: http://www.museumofbrands.com/index.html

I came across this place about a year ago when I was researching an Easter trip to London with my husband (total transport nightmare, me with a hideous hangover, the briefest of trips to the Natural History Museum; swiftly followed with the nullifying properties of beer and curry in Brick Lane).

Chris and I were trying to put together a day out to London doing stuff we hadn’t done before and we would both be interested in. He didn’t know of it either so we decided to give it a go. It’s situated in Notting Hill; which is part of London I am not familiar with other than that awful film with Hugh Grant in. We had a few false starts getting there and I did wonder if we were going to just give up and turn back.

Eventually we found it; situated next to a delightful Union Jack decorated Temperley shop. We entered with some trepidation. Hmmm, it all seemed a lot smaller than we envisaged. I feared we might be in and out in 5 or 10 minutes. But before long we were drawn in by an early exhibit of one of the holy grails in soft drink history… a can of Quatro! Mmmm Quatro…

And so it continued. Basically the lay out of the museum is chronological so that you finish with goods and packaging from the late ‘90s. And you start with all manner of weird and wonderful goods you didn’t even know of. Heinz kidney soup anyone?

Chris got misty eyed at the sight of a Star Wars yoghurt pot.

I dropped to my knees at the sight of a Wonder Woman doll.

We both agreed on the hideousness of squeezy Primula cheese.

Spangles! But no Pacers! (boo!)

I was convinced the revolving alco-pops display was a paean to my ruin at University.

Well you get the drift. I can highly recommend it if, like me, you’re one of those people who likes to have endless conversations about chocolate bars that don’t exist anymore and old packaging of Quality Street, Pepsi etc floats your boat. Incidentally if you’ve travelled up to Londinium by train (well at least with South West trains) you can get half price entry with a leaflet/voucher from the train station and your train ticket. Bargain.

Caf-fiend

I’ve been caffeine free for just over a week now! So, how’s it been going? Well, a bit of a mixed bag to be honest... The first day was so-so. Granted I was quite tired but put this down to the excesses of the previous weekend and with it being a Monday and all. Still, I struggled through and tried to embrace the rooibos tea. Had forgotten that while the taste is passable the aroma is questionable. But I made it through and did my evening gym session without incident.

Then Tuesday rolled around. Getting up early for the gym was no harder or easier than it normally was. I made it to work. I drank the rooibos and fought very hard with my drowsiness. And then mid-morning the headache struck. Boom! And Doom! By mid-afternoon I was zombie like and really struggling at my desk. My Moroccan mint and spice tea was a let down. I did have a couple of hours window in the evening when I did feel quite alert between about 7 and 9.30.

Day three. Up early to run. Again getting up posed no great problem and my post run breakfast of a boiled egg and toast actually seemed to have a marvellous affinity with rooibos. Agitated and fumbly just before I left for work, but this is the norm when I am running late and can’t find things. Again the headache struck about the same time and the tiredness. I tried to get by with hot water and lemon. Damn the cup from the vending machine smeared in coffee grounds just to taunt me! Procured some Berocca at lunchtime with trepidation. Wasn’t bad really, tasted like Lilt! God knows how much sugar is in it…Bring me my treadmill!

Habitually I get a GIANT coffee to drink at ‘gym school’ on Wednesday night. I stood in the doorway of Costa to see what variety of teas they did (I actually fancied a rooibos!) but the list did not excite me and the heady, seductive aroma of coffee was starting to get to me so I bolted! Managed to get some lemon and ginger tea at The Sports Centre which I really, really enjoyed. I was gratified that I actually had some in the kitchen cupboard which must’ve been half-inched from a hotel at some point ‘just in case’.

By day four things got better. The headaches and drowsiness passed and I did an amazing gym sesh which lead me buzzing and not needing any stimulants.

Friday provided fresh challenges with a work night out for cocktails. I told a few colleagues to make sure I did not order cocktails with coke in. The cocktails were lethal as was the shot of absinthe and soon all semblance of law and order seemed to go out of the window. Bumped into some people I knew in another bar who insisted on buying me more drinks and when asked what I wanted the stipulation for ‘no Coke!’ must’ve been lost in translation and twice drinks with Coke as a mixer were proffered. Twice I had to take a few polite sips – FAILURE! – and then even worse, abandon the drink on the sidelines for someone else to cadge.

Hungover and tired with lots to do over the weekend I had to stick to the rooibos and herbal stuff rather than the pints of coffee I usually imbibe. Again I adjusted and to be honest didn’t really think about it too much. So, a week into the experiment I have gone to show that I don’t actually need caffeine as my get up and go. I seem to cope without it. In fact on a few occasions I’ve been much more alert in the mornings than usual. Next week I may start to phase in a bit of decaff as a treat. I think I have 5 weeks to go and do you know what, I think I’ll be okay…

So, it’s not the caffeine that makes me nuts… turns out, well, that’s just me!

What was I thinking...?!

A few weeks ago the two girls I sit opposite at work brought up the fact they both gave up chocolate for Lent last year. They were pondering whether to repeat the exercise this year. I have never done 'the Lent thing'; mainly because I am not of the religious persuasion and mainly because I believe in everything in moderation. The Lent idea came up again and so, regretfully, I said that whilst I did have a bit of chocolate every day (like a couple of squares, never, I repeat never, a whole bar) I didn't feel it was something I needed to give up. So instead I have said I'll do caffeine.

I mean, it can't be that hard right? I barely drink my once beloved Diet Coke anymore so that's easy. Do I drink a lot of tea and coffee...um...well. I don't think that I do, but everyone seems to think I have issues with caffeine! I drink, on average, 3 cups of tea a day and maybe 1 coffee. That's nothing... isn't it? What I am aware of is that I do use it instead of eating. Like yesterday, I ate a late (big) breakfast at around 11 and then ate nothing until about 8pm instead I had two lattes in Starbucks with a friend. Yes I suppose there is something skewed about finishing a session at they gym and then mainlining a (skinny) cappuccino or stifling a mid morning hunger pang with a revolting machine coffee in an uncouth plastic beaker.

Also, when one of the PTs at the gym checked my food diary all the teas and coffees got the pink highlighter treatment. Again, I still don't feel I have issues with caffeine but at the same time I will be interested to see what happens when I withdraw from it. Have stocked up on Rooibos tea today and must keep reminding the man of the experiment.

I have had to delay my period of abstinence until next Monday though and not this week. Reason being, I am off to visit a Uni friend next weekend and I suspect drinking some lovely, fresh brewed Fairtrade coffee will be a feature of the weekend.

I can do it... right?