RAIN. What a luxury to wake, so late in spring, to the plop, plop, plop of water dropping from a broken drainpipe. Everything's soaked so no need to sneak around the garden watering the grass, at least not for two or three days. There’s no hosepipe ban but I still feel guilty. A wet-earth scent invades the air and it smells so good. Almost healing. Temperature is down so I can wear sleeves and cover up bulging-wrestler arms, at least today.
It's an early start at the office today so I drag bod out of bed. First day of new diet so exercise must accompany it so I walk to work with much huffing and puffing, as the route is mainly up hill.
Diet stopped at 10. The American brought in excellent homemade chocolate cake. It'd be rude to say no.
The American has also discovered some first class crisps, the good old, fried in a ton of oil, Spanish ones. He brought those in too. Diet finally shot to pieces when I realised I couldn't make it home for lunch so ordered fat-ladden sausage and bacon buttie on white bread from English bar next door. Must be stress-eating, or maybe it's just because I decided to start diet today.