Feast or famine?

14st 2lb. So I didn't quite make the 14stone but at least I'm heading in the right direction and have lost a pound in Cornwall in spite of succumbing to a melt in the mouth, worth the calories as a treat, proper pasty. Not as good as dear old Gran used to make, but more than adequately comparable.

You would have been so proud of me on the journey down. My planning worked a treat - buying two of all the treats for the girls and packing fruit and my sarnies. No naughties despite a long drag of a journey. Friday did not dawn with glorious blue skies but I still managed to drag my two unwilling charges out for a good walk in the afternoon with only occasional drizzle and not the downpour it threatened. I ate the aforementioned pasty for lunch and my mother had made the most unctuous lamb shanks with butternut squash and other veggies for supper. On Saturday, Mum took the girls out for the day (with fish and chips) while I took care of Gran - we had a boiled egg each for lunch. She insisted that she would be fine while I took the dog out for an hour, which of course she was, but I did push the boundaries of my abilities so that I was back within the hour. Again Mum cooked - a roast chicken with loads of vegetables so good again - but the lovely blackberry & apple crumble with clotted cream didn't fit the diet bill!

Saturday night - what a night! I barely slept as we were up in Mum's static caravan and it was a particularly stormy night. I was battling the elements at 3am thinking her garden shed had broken loose. It was fine but the tarpaulin on next door's speed boat was thwacking up and down in the gusts and the boat itself was lifting up and thumping back down. You know what it's like in the middle of the night - everything is so much more dramatic - I put my contact lenses in, just in case I needed to make an emergency escape if the boat lifted up and through the side of the caravan. By 4am, there were three in the bed, like two sardines and a mackerel in the middle, grossly uncomfortable and in fear of our lives. Mum, cosily wrapped up in Granny's cottage in the sheltered arm of the village, greeted three bleary eyed girls with a bright and breezy "Sleep well?"

Sunday was calm in Cornwall. Wet but calm. Wensleydale on the other hand was anything but. It rained and rained. By lunch time it was decided that we would not be able to get back in to our village so we decided to stop in Cheshire at my very accommodating, lovely aunt & uncle's house. Whilst driving up the M5, the youngest rang home to tell our plans, to be greeted with a, "Can't talk now. Moving everything upstairs. The fire brigade have just arrived." Great. The youngest is only worried about the cat. I am worried about...everything! Five hours later, the fire brigade stopped pumping. The two neighbours on the right were soaked right through and I don't envy them (I made a Shepherd's Pie) but we escaped. His nibs levered up the paving slabs and the herb garden in an effort to drain water away, but other than that, we're fine. I am very grateful.

I think the stress and lack of sleep made me lose the pound. I am now feast and famining. So far. So good. Yesterday, a slice of toast at Jen's, a slice of bread as a tomato sandwich at lunch and a tin of plum tomatoes for supper. You must excuse the horror of the diet but I had just suffered trauma and a long drive. Today was feast - Weetabix for breakfast, a small roast turkey dinner at work (and a not awfully small Christmas pudding - homemade - with rum sauce) and a slice of toast with honey and an orange for supper. Not too bad. Good walk due tomorrow for famine day with a nice soup for lunch - haven't decided what yet. I need healthy supplies.

Feeling optimistic.

Anyone feel like joining me? Three and a half weeks to Christmas!

Love
E xx