Seize the donut

I appear to be recovering, at a reasonable pace, from my Glasto’ exploits. You may wonder why it is that I need such a lengthy recovery period. The only answer that I can offer is that I am far too unfit and out of practice to take part in such antics without dire consequences (or at least, lingering doziness, stubbornly matted hair and a prolonged bout of trench-foot). But it’s not as though I’m ancient or infirm and I often feel that action MUST be taken. Indeed, I felt driven to healthiness the very afternoon of my return. I purchased strawberries, roquette and tomatoes and vowed to never again taste the vile burger (even the veggie kind). Despite having had very little to eat at the fest, what I did have was not of the vitamin infused variety and I was absolutely certain that I would be exceptionally wise in the food aisle at Tesco from here on in.

After all, it’s not as though I dislike the veggies and the fruits; indeed I am a big fan and have been known to eat an alarming number of carrots and several punnets of berry-type things in a single sitting. In fact, there’s no real reason why I’m not incredibly healthy; I don’t like cream, I’m not fond of pastry, I’ve cut down on that mouth-watering and really quite delicious personal favourite of mine - vintage cheddar and I’m capable of putting off chocolate binges for hours at a time. Of course, I become severely weakened by even the most fleeting suggestion of a glass of wine and I have absolutely no defence against really good chips. Rum and I have a co-dependent relationship and I could never turn gin away (not after all we’ve been through together). Even so, my four days of festival food have made me feel somewhat different about these things. I shall go, immediately, and share my good intentions with Clare. We’ve agreed to meet for trough of cheesy chips and a bout of Bombay Sapphire at the pub in a few short minutes...............

...............................bugger!