Reality Bites

Thank you from the heart of my bottom for the comments left on my last post. You were all so kind; it meant a lot. I'm sorry I've not been commenting on blogs much recently but gradually, gradually normal service looks set to be resumed.

I am now moved in to the new place in Leeds. Half of my possessions are still in boxes but I'm slowly getting there. It's a beautiful house and I am lucky to have it and I am resolutely not going to focus on the fact that I am here on my own.

I don't yet know what will happen between me and D but I do know that I am going to give saving our relationship a good shot. And part of that is looking after myself and not allow myself to wallow in a mire of self pity and rose wine. With this in mind, off I toddled to a brand new WW meeting this morning. Yep, at 7.30 am, I was getting weighed! How virtuous does that make me feel! The meeting itself is just a ten minute walk from the office so I was at my desk by eight, all aglow with good intentions.

I don't yet know if this is going to be Operation Win Back Husband or Become Presentable Singleton. But either way, it has to be better than Operation Become Morbidly Obese Gin Raddled Lock In.

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Girl/Boy, Interrupted

Once upon a time, about eight and a half years ago, there was a girl and a boy. They met, as girls and boys often do. They went on a few dates. They made each other laugh. They had interests in common (although the relative merits of the musical as an art form and the correct ambient temperature for the living room would be constant sources of disagreement).

And after (quite a short) while, they moved in together.

And a few years later, they got engaged.

And a few years after that, they got married.

And a year (almost to the day) after that, the boy told the girl that he wanted to separate for a time to think about whether he wished to continue to be in the relationship.

And the girl cried (quite a lot) and drank gin (quite a lot) and at first thought evil thoughts about the boy but then remembered some nice things about him and cried a bit more.

And the girl reluctantly admitted to herself that sometimes, however much you love someone and however much you have built your life around them and however much you think the day is brighter because they are in it, sometimes relationships fall apart despite everything and that it isn't a question of blame or guilt, just very, very sad. And she was grateful that they loved each other enough to think that their relationship might be worth a trial
separation period and might still be worth saving.

And the girl, who wrote a blog that was sometimes about dieting and sometimes about food and sometimes just about life in general, decided to put up a post explaining why things might be a bit unsettled for a while and why meal planning might consist of a lot of prick and pings* for one for the time being while she got used to the idea of cooking for herself.

*Although then she remembered that she didn't have a microwave anymore so would have to go for ones that baked in the oven until she got around to replacing it.

The end. For now.

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End of the summer

I've interspersed this rather meandering post with pictures from a recent meal we had at Carriages wine bar.  If you ever find yourself in the North Yorkshire market town of Knaresborough and in need of sustenance, it is well worth the visit.  They don't appear to have their own website, but you can find their entry on the Harrogate food guide here.

Well. What an odd two weeks it has been to be sure.

You may remember, in the last thrilling instalment, that I was on the point of moving out; after weeks of procrastination by a pair of less than stellar solicitors, things had suddenly come to a head very fast. D, my brother and I spent a couple of frantic days flinging all our stuff into boxes and driving a white van between our flat and my parents’ garage wherein now can be found pretty much all our worldly possessions. In no particular order.

King prawns and langoustines in a lemongrass, chilli, pineapple and kaffir lime leaf nage

We were fully prepared to spend the following fortnight, which we had both booked off work for the purposes of general chilling out as opposed to going away, combing Leeds for the perfect place to live. But the rental market, previously a relentless juggernaut of a thing which waited for no man, slowed down to…well, much less of a juggernaut. So we’re currently still chez les parentals.

Smoked trout fillet on grilled fennel with olive salsa and beetroot marinated calamari

Much as I love them, it is not a particularly ideal situation for either party. Their garage looks, as my mother says, as if the Ark of the Covenant could be concealed somewhere within its depths (although D did manage to create a path through to the wine rack at the back). And of course there have been fraught moments on either side when I for one have been in danger of regressing to my thirteen year old self.

Beef fillet with beetroot fondant, sausage and leek ragout with a tarragon and mustard bechamel sauce

Still, all that aside we did manage to get some relaxing in. I don’t think I got up much before nine the entire time which was absolutely blissful. And, of course, any thought of dieting went out of the window – well, it never takes much with me, does it?

Yes, this is a diet blog, remember? Ha, I bet you’d forgotten. The old weight has been remaining pretty steady – but not going down and all the impetus and drive of the first few months of this year has completely dissipated among the general disruption and stress of the summer. BUT. I reckon you can’t be said to have failed until you have given up altogether and that I will never do. There is a meeting, located a ten minute walk away from my office, that takes place at 7.30 a.m. on a Wednesday morning, and that is where you find me this time next week.

Pot au chocolat with pistachio fudge

My thoughts on meetings have always been mixed. On the one hand, I resent paying to have someone weigh me, like a pig going to market, and then tell me stuff that I already know for half an hour. On the other hand, I am a creature who thrives on structure and routine and I have proved time and time again that left to myself I will have the odd burst of brilliance and then drift off course like a chubby little cloud. So, meetings it is. Meetings and meal planning and (whisper it) back to the gym – although it will be a new gym, because to go all the way from Leeds to York just to jog on a treadmill for a bit would just be silly.

So, all steam ahead for next week, although there is the small matter of my first wedding anniversary beforehand…