Food, Food, Glorious Food
“The success of your shopping trips is measured purely on the food you’ve eaten,” said DH about me, once upon a time.
He was right, of course. No matter what I’ve bought or failed to buy when out shopping, my happiness is more linked to the food I’ve eaten than it is to my purchases. It’s very simple:
- A failed attempt to buy something + a good lunch in Carluccio’s = a happy shop.
- Fantastic shopping + miserable food = miserable Desperate Housewife.
One of the things I’ve been enjoying most about England is the food. I’m not talking about the chef’s table at some Ramsay emporium, nor about the latest trendy bistro in town. Rather, those delicious – and so unexpected – moments in average pubs and cafes.Maybe I’ve just been in Dubai too long. But when you go into some rubbish-looking chain café in a shopping mall and order some run-of-the-mill dish and it comes with a large glass of wine and tastes exquisite, I nearly fall of my chair in delight.
It’s probably why I must have put on about 3kgs in the last two weeks. I haven’t weighed myself, but I can feel it in my tummy; in the jiggle as I walk up the stairs; in the bloat as I sit at the computer.
In Dubai, I’m really careful about what I eat. I weigh myself every day. People have nicknamed me “sparrow” for the teensy size of my portions (really!). I manage to maintain a reasonable size.
Since I’ve been in England I’ve fallen hard for pub lunches, drinking at lunchtime, chip-shop chips, M&S sandwiches (450 cals in a cheese sandwich!), M&S tiny desserts, Pizza Express 14” pizzas and creamy desserts.
DH leaves tomorrow. I’m going to stop eating and start running. Either that, or I’ll have to book an extra seat on the plane to get myself home at the end of the month.