Tag Archives: diet

What I Ate On Sunday

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23.19

Almost too late to post. Better be quick.

Healthy Breakfast

Breakfast was weetabix style cereal (TESCO) own brand is a lot cheaper and, I imagine, no less good for me). We had blueberries and bananas on it, which are both, I admit, out of season and have to be shipped in. Then we had toast and marmalade. It’s Sunday – so we pushed the boat out.

Lunch was yellow split pea soup (which included sweet potato, carrot, celery, leeks and onions) it was OK. We had a Stilton cheese sandwich with mango chutney too. One part good, one part bad.

On her return from the tearoom Julia brought some surplus Victoria sponge. It was borderline dry (which was why they gave it away) but a nice treat.

Carrot & Ginger Soup

Carrot & Ginger Soup

For tea we had slightly tasteless steak pies from freezer (this week is a week for emptying the freezer), baked potatoes, carrots, parsnips and leeks with gravy.

For dessert I had quite a lot of medication, followed by half a packet of small Easter eggs.

After years of reading what Derrick had to eat, I expected my list would be quite interesting, but it wasn’t. It’s either mundane, slightly faulty or (like the Stilton and mango chutney sandwich) far too decadent and fat-filled to admit to. They Stilton is currently perfectly ripe.

Before batching – Date and Stilton Scones. I must try them again.

It was nice to get back to being able to cook (you can always ell when I am on he mend, because I start cooking again. When I’m ill I become lethargic, floppy and lazy and let Julia do all the work.

As I checked emails before starting to write, I see I have had a  tanka accepted. That makes it a good day.

23.31

Twelve minutes for 280 words – not bad.

23.36

Tags and photos done.

Just need a title . . .

 

Trials, Tribulations and Thoughts of Being Thin

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I fell asleep in front of the TV after lunch. Julia was down at the tea room and I was lost in a dream about breaking up a drug ring and had just been stabbed by the ringleader when I woke up to find Father Brown on TV. My first thought was “Ah! Last Rites!” but then I realised it was just a dream.

(The “t” key on my keyboard is getting worse, and just failed to register another one. Fortunately I saw it, but it may be time for a new keyboard.)

The panic about dying gave way to a panic about trying to work out what time it was, as I was due at the doctor at 3pm. At that point the alarm went off. I had set it for a reminder, but it was 2.15. It helped me focus and I was able to get ready and arrived at the doctor with nearly ten minutes to spare. Fortunately there was only one other person in the waiting room as, with my immunosuppressants, I don’t like being in a room with a load of sick people.

I had a magazine today through the post. About 18 months ago the editor appealed for articles. I sent him two, which he seemed to like, and then a third after he published the first one. A year later, neither of the remaining two have been used. I’m a bit irritated, to say the least. However, he’s a volunteer and is now resigning and looking for someone to take over. If I were younger I would have a go, but as I’ve been ill for nearly two months this year I don’t think I have he energy or reliability to do it.

I returned and found that te dustmen had finally been (a day late) it seems there have been a couple of breakdowns and they are short of transport. Fortunately it was he recycling rather than anything that would go rotten.

Julia then returned , I finished an article I was writing and sent it off. We then both fell asleep in front of the TV and on waking decided that a modest Chinese delivery might be in order as long as we eat modestly tomorrow. Oh! The trials and tribulations of trying to be thin.

Bah! That was a bad sentence to try with a “t” that sticks. At least I have a title.

 

 

 

 

A Jumble of Gibberish

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We have had Goldfinches and Greenfinches in the garden a little more regularly over the last few weeks and the behaviour of the Great Tits is changing. I suspect they are looking for a nest site.

We also have a lovely patch of violets in the middle of the lawn.  We didn’t, after much upheaval, get much done in the garden last year, and I doubt we will get much done this year either. it always seems we have something else to.

I took this whilst waiting for Julia in Matlock. I think it was Matlock . . . my memory is not what it was

Julia is out wood turning and I am doing various things, though mainly rattling off nonsense on the computer. I’ve just done a couple of political blog posts and deleted them, and replied to an editor who has accepted a haibun. And looked up DARVO, which cropped up in a comment relating to yesterday’s post.

I expect Julia will be home shortly, and that will mark the halfway point of my day. It also, as I write that, marks the halfway point of the post. It can be a long old slog when you have imposed a limitation on discussing politics.

I’ve been letting my personal grooming slip recently and my hair, after a couple of weeks of neglect, was getting quite long. I say “quite long” – possibly a quarter of an inch or a little longer. That, I feel, is quite impressive for a couple of weeks. It’s winter and I’m old so it should grow slower than average.  It just goes to show that though I no longer have much hair, what remains is still quite active.

Brick from Watnall Pit Bickyard – I mantione dthese somewhere recently but can’t remember if it was in the blog.

I did wonder, as I started cutting, whether the shaver would cope. let’s just say it was marginal. I did manage to cut my hair back to the scalp but the cutters protested and I had to clean quite a lot out as i went, as they kept stalling.

The lesson I gained from that, Is that I need to stick to a regular regime of hair cutting, regardless of whether I feel under the weather or my head feels cold. I also have an idea for a haibun as a result of my hair cutting experiences.

So with several learning experiences and inspiration for a poem, I have to say that it’s been a good day so far.

Fish Pie – a healthy alternative

When Julia returns with two pensioner special fish and chip portions it will be an even better day, though slightly bitter-sweet. After much heart-searching I have decided it is time for a major review of my eating habits, and the first casualties are likely to be fried food and carbohydrates. I will have fish and chips again, but it could be some time in the future.

 

 

 

 

The Blog of an Old Friend Pops Up to Torture Me

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Healthy Breakfast

I’m now on an 8 Day Streak according to WP. It’s always tempting to see how far I can extend it, but it also doesn’t really mean much and I am tempted to break it deliberately. Yes, I’m feeling iconoclastic, and much better.

Apart from the last post, what did I do today? Well, I published before I had all the bits and pieces added, so had to add tags and photos after the event. Not that the photos were much good – just a a dull bronze medal from several angles.

I had an email turning down a haiku submission, but that’s par for the course. I only send them to show willing and to ensure I stay tough in the face of repeated rejection. They were good enough to be polished and used again, so that’s all for the good.

It was a two injection night, so those are still stinging as I write this. They aren’t bad, but sometimes they are painless, so this is not quite as good as it could be. However, it’s a long way from the days when I used to have ten pills that upset my stomach and an injection fro something like a stirrup pump tipped with a six inch nail. In other words, things are going well, but I do love a good moan. It’s the sorry of modern life – things are really quite good for those of us who have a roof and four walls, the trick is appreciating it.

Sunday fades, the sound of snoring is heard and night passes. It is now Monday morning and I am up and eager. I had a welcome arrival in my WP today – a post from a man who appreciates breakfast. He also used to be part of the Bread Group on the farm.

Proper Breakfast

So there you have it, a Monday morning blog containing a bit of dislocated Sunday and Sunday and a touch of Monday morning. I’m hungry now, and thinking about potatoes for breakfast (an idea my new focus on weight control quickly quashed) and soda bread (ditto). I may well do soda bread later, but it will be to go with the ratatouille for tea, not just because I’m peckish.

If my new plans for weight control go well there’s a possibility that I may merely be overweight by the end of the year. Who can tell? At the moment I have the desire for a full English, I have the ingredients for half of one (ran out of bacon and black pudding over the weekend) and the sort of calorie target that will allow me to have five flakes of cereal and a sniff of the toaster. It’s going to be a long, hard year.

McDonald’s Breakfast – my downfall

One Man and his Menu

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That’s the title I thought of yesterday as I blogged. It’s proof, if proof is needed, for the fact that I can get very pleased about small things, and that once you start having ideas, you have more. That’s the Theory of Creativity – you start and you keep going. Stop and your creativity stops. It’s like those sharks that have to keep swimming.

I also have an idea for the next title. Unfortunately, as I wrote that, I forgot it. That happens a lot.

Yesterday (which is only just an hour away – I’m typing in the early hours) I had beans, tomatoes and mushrooms for breakfast, which lifted me to 21. We didn’t have lunch until 4pm. It was a McDonalds. I had a wrap and claim lettuce as my 22nd plant. In the evening we didn’t feel hungry, so ate the corned beef as sandwiches rather than in hash. I had some tinned pineapple and yoghurt afterwards, upping my intake to 23 plant-based items. Small steps, but not particularly difficult. In this case I do wonder if I’d have been better missing out the pineapple, and the calories. It could be that I’m using the target to make excuses for eating more.

Meanwhile, I am still waiting for the results of several of last month’s submissions. I submitted eight and have had three answers – two acceptances and a rejection. Four of them will probably reply in the next week. It’s just two magazines, but different forms of poetry and different editors. They have all changed recently and are less willing than the previous editors to accept my work. It could be a blood bath. It’s a strange thing – but this reluctance seems to be a regular feature of editorial changes. I suspect I have managed to become old-fashioned, despite being a relative newcomer. It feels a bit like I’m writing for a different generation. I may have mentioned that before.

It’s my age, you know . . .

A Life Without Toast

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The starting point for today’s post is that everything is going well.

I managed to take my antibiotics without mishap (yes, although I haven’t written about it yet, I even had a problem with antibiotics on my return from hospital), am well-rested, and am looking forward to a breakfast of scrambled eggs. I’d bee looking forwards to a breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast even more, but one of the first casualties in my war on weight is toast. It’s always been a target, but it has to be eliminated ruthlessly. My previous successful attempts at weight loss have not been through fancy diets, just through simple stuff.

A couple of years ago I stopped having toast at breakfast and cut down to one sandwich at lunchtime. Even without exercise, I managed a small but steady weight loss. Part of my problem is that I used to have active days featuring a lot of walking and lifting and, as I became more managerial (as in chair and car-based) I carried on with the calories and reduced the burning. Same for leisure. I reduced the walking and increased the TV. But mentally, I didn’t make the shift.

Same when I gave up smoking. I felt my metabolism shift, but I didn’t alter my intake.

So, when you strip away all the Hollywood glamour, the miracle cures, the avocados and the steaks, you are left with the truth. If you want to lose weight you have to burn more calories than you eat.

And if you can’t walk far you are going to have to achieve the rebalancing by eating a lot less. That’s why targeting bread is always good – it also cuts out the cheese, the McDonalds and the snacks.

It’s a bleak picture of a spartan retirement, but after the last few days I’ve had to ask myself a few questions about how I want the rest of my life to be, and that starts with a very simple question – long or short? I can work on the details later.

Meanwhile, whilst hovering round Death’s garden gate recently (it’s the one where you enter and dawdle along Death’s garden path until you actually reach Death’s Door) I had to make an official decision for medical purposes. I went for resuscitation, partly because it’s a new spelling to learn, and partly because my bed was in the corridor outside the resuscitation room, which seemed like a sign. Or a hint.

And that, in my weakened state, is enough for now.

Quinoa Salad – health on a plate

Pictures of salad are harder to find than pictures of fish and chips or cake.  I will let yuo draw your own conclusions.

Another Senior Moment/Forgotten Title

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Julia, South Pier, Lowestoft, Suffolk

The day started with porridge, fruit and toast. I’m really trying to give toast up on weekdays but Julia keeps making it. Eventually, I suppose, I will have to start refusing it, but I like toast and I don’t like to waste food. I could, I suppose, just scrape off the marmalade but without marmalade there is little point in toast so I may as well just give it up. Really it’s just a delivery system to facilitate the eating of melted bitter, cheese or marmalade. Nobody I know would want a piece of dry toast, though if any of you, I’d be happy to know.

It continued with a trip to the dentist to drop Julia off, followed by a twenty minute interlude writing notes in the car park at the surgery before it was time for my blood test. This went well – two attempts on one arm with no success, but the first attempt on the second arm struck blood and we soon had three full tubes. It was a big day today, I had a special envelope from my last trip to Rheumatology and that needed two tubes. It had red writing on it, so it must be important. I got weighed while I was there. I’ve lost 8 lbs in the last eight weeks. Not spectacular, but a useful loss. No stupid diet, just ate a little less. I make no grandiose claims, and may yet disappoint myself, but at this point I am happy with this loss.

Julia on the patio

I’m writing this to the accompaniment of whistling, clattering scaffolding and the low annoyance of a radio. Yes, it’s building season again. The young couple next door are having something done, though I don’t know what. They are always having something done. The people diagonally across the road are having a loft extension. I sometimes wonder why people buy houses in this street if they need so much changing.

Julia just rang. She just bought an advance ticket for her Canada trip. Nottingham to Norwich and then on to London is just £28. Yes, £28. She was amazed. The man in the ticket office was so surprised he double checked it. It seems that there’s an offer on. At least part of the Canada trip is going to be cheap. She’s on her way home from town now. I am going to do the washing up. Then I expect we will sit in the front room, watch TV and (in my case) nap. There are worse ways to spend my time.

Love Locks at Bakewell

 

 

Poetry and Vegetables

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Despite the arrival of British Summer Time, and the consequent loss of an hour, I woke feeling ready to work, and although I did waste time surfing the web and watching TV, and “resting my eyes”, I have knocked a fair amount of poetry into shape and have sent off four submissions.

I had another rejection yesterday. It was good because it was quick, and because if I intend to be serious about aiming for 100 rejections a year I need more of them. The rejected poems, with a few minor changes, are already out with someone else. They will probably be rejected but it doesn’t matter as I need the numbers, and the second submission needed little work. I feel that each time I edit a work, even if it’s only one word, I am learning how to write better.

I’m sure that I have more than this to write but I can’t remember it. In truth the stuff I forget generally isn’t that important, and would make dull reading if I wrote it all down.

We are starting to list the plants we eat in a week – one recommendation is that you should aim for 30 a week. It’s good to have a variety and I have found that shopping online encourages me to buy the same stuff each week – it’s easier to order and easier to plan the menus.

Brace yourself for a boring list.

Mushrooms. Tea. Yes, tea counts. We eat 50/50 bread so it doesn’t really count, though wholemeal would. Julia says that although brown sauce does contain spices (which do count) she is fairly sure it doesn’t count. Nor does the cereal content in black pudding. Ah well, two isn’t a bad start.

We had coffee, which counts, and green tea with mint, which is debatable. Then we had lettuce, rocket, celery, spring onions, green olives, cucumber and tomatoes.

I’m excluding chocolate because it’s full of sugar, and white flour because it’s processed, so I can’t count the crust of the quiche. Ah well . . .

That’s 10, It’s not a bad start. Only 20 more to go.Looking at the list, it shouldn’t be too hard, though it’s a case of remembering to use them. I meant to add nuts and peppers to the salad tonight, but I forgot by the end of the preparation. It’s a bit like the times I forget I’m not supposed to eat fried potatoes – they just seem to slide down. My bad memory is a cause of many of my problems.

Orange Parker Pen – a shameless attempt to get review samples.

17 Saturdays

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Sausage and Egg McMuffin. They know the secret to attract fat people. Why doesn’t someone reverse it?

A quick count indicates I have 17 Saturdays to work before I retire. I may  start a Saturday Series to mark their passing. Or, as usual, I may talk about starting a series and do nothing about it. Who can tell?

The irony is not lost on me. I started off with  Saturday job, I have ended up with one. Working Saturdays is one of those things that tells you success has eluded you.

Julia has just come down and offered me toast. I was going to leave, but the lure of toast is too strong, despite my commitment to losing weight. If I remove six slices of toast and marmalade from my diet each week, it is around 1,500 calories, which is a lot of calories. If I don’t remove them, I enjoy toast and marmalade, though some of it may be rushed and the rest may be spoiled by guilt. It’s a balancing act, but on Saturdays the toast tends to win.

My recommended daily calorie intake is 2,500 calories. If I want to lose a pound a week they recommend 2,100. Taking out the toast and marmalade and a few more tweaks (no more second sandwich for lunch) should do the trick.

It sounds so easy.

If only . . .

What these diets don’t include is the sitting at work feeling bored and eating that single sandwich for elevenses. What happens then? Dieting is about more than simply cutting back on food, or we would all do it.

In retirement I may concentrate on making meals from cardboard. That should do the trick – zero calories, no enjoyment, plenty of fibre and chewing. What more could you want? I suppose there must be more to it than that or we would all be doing it. On the other hand, having just had a bowl of bran flakes I am left with the impression that it would have been much the same if I’d just cut the packet into small squares and forced them down.

Other breakfasts are available, or not, in the case of the much missed Olympic Breakfast. Other waistlines, and coronaries, are also available.

Olympic Breakfast – much mourned

Day 184

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Well, I spent last night planning what I was going to do today. It was quite a list. Today was slightly different in tone and I did very little apart from avoid doing anything on the list. That is, I suppose, an achievement in itself, but not quite the outcome I was hoping for.

Breakfast, which hadn’t been on the list, was quite pleasant, as was lunch. We had bacon sandwiches for breakfast, with mushrooms, fried tomatoes and black pudding. Nutritionally I could have finished after tomatoes. I was tempted to leave the black pudding out of the list and appear more virtuous and sensible, but I am fairly truthful in the blog, and the black pudding presents a more rounded picture of both my character and my figure.

Lunch was fancy cheese on toast. I chucked some eggs and finely chopped spring onions in the grated cheese before toasting. We have been using thick-sliced malty wholemeal, which has been good.

We had vegetable curry for tea. Tomorrow we will be having vegetable curry for tea. Julia hasn’t quite mastered the art of portion control since the kids left home. It’s something I have struggled with over the years. I can still picture myself in the late 1970s with a pressure cooker full of vegetables – enough to feed  a family of four, to be precise.

At that point I realised that I had left home, but was still using the portion size I was used to seeing. Four days later, finally free of vegetables, I started to cut back on portion size. I should really have cut back a lot more, but that is a different story.

I have just been reading about a diet that could help me lose a lot of weight. Breakfast is a banana, lunch is chicken, rice and broccoli and tea is a protein shake. It’s a diet developed by someone who has more self-control than I do.

On the one hand I’m looking at a short, increasingly unhealthy life. On the other I’m looking at chicken, rice and broccoli. It’s a tough choice. Well, actually it isn’t. Chicken, rice and broccoli is not a winning combination.

Meanwhile, in a different part of the family (and one where I suspect that chicken, rice and broccoli is a winning combination) Number One Son just did his first Ultra-marathon.  Eighty miles in 24 hours. No, I don’t know why either, but I am glad he’s found a sport he enjoys.