Post 449: Another bit of extra time for the fans.
It’s hot, exciting and all three pedestal fans are on top gear, cranking out streams of air to cool our ardour.
But it’s enough for me to keep My Darling in tea and water while the incidents and accidents play out on TV.
“Come on, England!” I hear each time I get settled back in the chair beside her again.
I’m using every excuse under the sun to get out of watching these tense thrillers play out, with a result looming after the allotted time.
Earlier, we had no such allotted time in the café, where my banana milkshake helped cushion the blow of all that meat I had on a B4 breakfast.
With black pudding, bacon and sausage, this is a far cry from what I used to order only weeks ago, when I was a veggie.
What has happened to me?
What happened to my stomach?
What happened to my strength?
Amongst the close family there’s a disbelief about my turn of fortune, led by my total lack of veggie intake and the resurrection of my old self with fish - sardines in particular - as my go-to meal.
These little creatures have made such a difference to me, and I will continue to get the best out of them to help me rebuild after that period when my weight had dropped.
But that was then.
I’m now back up to my proper weight and delighted with the strength I’ve regained from fish and the other meats I’m now eating.
Gone are the days of Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease (CJD) and the beef to go with it. Oh my, what a time that was - “mad cow disease.”
We had kids at the time, and it all blew through our kitchen alongside the other food scares of the day, like listeria and C. difficile, or whatever else was making the headlines.
Every five minutes there seemed to be another problem for the culinary experts to guide us through.
It was beyond a joke as I remember it, and perhaps the cause of so many different eating worries and frailties.
Why did our country think we would be OK when we couldn’t simply be honest and call a spade a spade?
I loved crispy pancakes and, at one time, practically lived on them. They sat in our freezer waiting for their moment of glory and, twice a week with peas and mash, they were a thing of beauty.
Oh, the simple beauty of a crispy pancake.
How things change.
With all the modern warnings and healthy eating advice written on the foods we buy today, we’re certainly given a refreshing amount of detail to help us eat better.
But after all the things I’ve eaten in the past, it’s a miracle we’re still alive.
I’m asked by my family if I’m OK and why I’m eating sardines as though they’re going out of fashion.
I simply reply that I want to get healthy and the protein from those little fishies is one of the best ways of helping to keep me well.
That’s it.
And that’s all there is to it.
I love the taste too.
What’s not to like…
This train of thought is the newest theory for me to cling to as I try to keep this year’s health improvements going and continue needing only to be watched rather than treated.
Who cares if I’m wrong?
I’m loving life at the moment.
The baby may reveal its gender tomorrow (Monday), helping My Darling choose the colours for the little presents waiting to fill those empty baby drawers.
“Oh, what a change in you,” My Darling says. “You’ve become so cheerful about the future now. It’s amazing what a baby can do to your perspective.”
All I can say is this.
I’m taking the pills.
I’m eating my fish.
I’m listening to the doctors’ advice.
And I’m living with a smile.
Long may that continue.
I have spare happiness at the moment, so just ask if you want me to give you some.
Sleep well.
Take care.
