So this week I have been mainly......dieting. Totally my own fault that I need to, I should never have taken the lid off the Quality Street over Christmas (although subsequently removing the lid from the Roses and then Celebrations definitely compounded the error!).
Anyway, once the chocolate monster that lives inside me had been unleashed she was reluctant to return to a sensible diet incorporating five a day. She insisted that I persevere in my attempt to empty all three sweet containers long after all other members of the family had retired from the game. And she would not listen to reason. Eventually I found myself ploughing through the orange creams. But rock bottom was still to come. That was when I started nibbling the chocolate off the Turkish Delights and discarding the middle bit.
December became January and still I feasted on chocolate. Until I found myself watching the Biggest Loser whilst gorging on some Marks and Spencer cherry liquers and was smacked in the face by the irony of the situation. I'd like to say that I hurled the offending confections into the bin and took myself off for a run. But actually I finished the box (well, if you've got to diet anyway!) and resolved to start the following day.
Friday, 27 January 2012
Thursday, 12 January 2012
Game, Set and Match Made in Heaven
I've been having tennis lessons for two years now. At least. I run several times a week and I go to the gym. My husband does absolutely nothing. Yet he can still beat me at any and every sport you'd care to name. He is a professional athlete trapped in the body of a couch potato!
Lately, we've started playing tennis together and better Cardio fitness is my only advantage. So, I try to run him around the court and every time the ball goes out I restart really quickly, before he can get his breath. But to be honest, it doesn't really matter because if he wanted - he could thrash me.
But that's where the fun starts. He's no fool and I'm not a very good loser. So he's now found a level of play that allows us both to enjoy the game. Sometimes he forgets himself (usually when I gloat over a point won or start one of my victory dances) and smacks a serve that speeds past me or does something clever with spin. But then if he gets too far ahead he'll suddenly fumble a return or miss the opportunity to put the ball past me. When this happens he'll often angrily smack the racket into his palm, mutter under his breath or shake his head in disappointment.
His acting is nowhere near as good as his tennis but bless him for making the effort. The fact that he does means that harmony and happiness prevail; both on the court and back at home. In fact, this approach to tennis could be seen as a metaphor for a successful marriage; make sure you both get to win sometimes - even if it means that one of you has to double fault occassionally*!
* preferably him :)
Lately, we've started playing tennis together and better Cardio fitness is my only advantage. So, I try to run him around the court and every time the ball goes out I restart really quickly, before he can get his breath. But to be honest, it doesn't really matter because if he wanted - he could thrash me.
But that's where the fun starts. He's no fool and I'm not a very good loser. So he's now found a level of play that allows us both to enjoy the game. Sometimes he forgets himself (usually when I gloat over a point won or start one of my victory dances) and smacks a serve that speeds past me or does something clever with spin. But then if he gets too far ahead he'll suddenly fumble a return or miss the opportunity to put the ball past me. When this happens he'll often angrily smack the racket into his palm, mutter under his breath or shake his head in disappointment.
His acting is nowhere near as good as his tennis but bless him for making the effort. The fact that he does means that harmony and happiness prevail; both on the court and back at home. In fact, this approach to tennis could be seen as a metaphor for a successful marriage; make sure you both get to win sometimes - even if it means that one of you has to double fault occassionally*!
* preferably him :)
Friday, 6 January 2012
Self scan? Shall I unload the lorry and stack the shelves too?
Why are the staff in Sainsbury's so keen to direct customers to the self scan tills? Surely they must realise that if we all 'self scan' then they won't have any jobs? Plus they are rubbish (the tills not the staff!)
My husband is a huge fan of self scan. But then he only ever goes to the supermarket to pick up bits. Generally things that I've forgotten on my big weekly shop; where I'm pretty good at fruit and veg, not bad through meat and dairy but my starting to lose the will to live at dried goods and storecupboard staples. Mind you, I normally rally at biscuits and am positively perky though wine.
Anyway, self scan. So, he always want to use it and I'm never keen. I think it's something to do with his basic male need to use any type of technology. No matter how shit. This difference of opinion makes our self scanning experiences quite fraught. He strides to the machine with all the confidence of a seasoned till worker, while I sulk in the background praying he'll have to call for asistance.
Actually, he's started to get quite competant at it. And smug. So imagine his consternation when recently the machine loudly and insistently announced that there was 'an unknown item in the bagging area'. He frantically started pushing buttons but it was too late. The supervisor had to come and intervene with her override card. He was still pondering what had gone wrong as we made our way to the car but I didn't feel the need to mention that I may have been resting my knee on the bagging area.
My husband is a huge fan of self scan. But then he only ever goes to the supermarket to pick up bits. Generally things that I've forgotten on my big weekly shop; where I'm pretty good at fruit and veg, not bad through meat and dairy but my starting to lose the will to live at dried goods and storecupboard staples. Mind you, I normally rally at biscuits and am positively perky though wine.
Anyway, self scan. So, he always want to use it and I'm never keen. I think it's something to do with his basic male need to use any type of technology. No matter how shit. This difference of opinion makes our self scanning experiences quite fraught. He strides to the machine with all the confidence of a seasoned till worker, while I sulk in the background praying he'll have to call for asistance.
Actually, he's started to get quite competant at it. And smug. So imagine his consternation when recently the machine loudly and insistently announced that there was 'an unknown item in the bagging area'. He frantically started pushing buttons but it was too late. The supervisor had to come and intervene with her override card. He was still pondering what had gone wrong as we made our way to the car but I didn't feel the need to mention that I may have been resting my knee on the bagging area.
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