Rain and Food and stuff and things

Raindrops keep falling on my head.

And the lightning flashes, then the thunder claps, bursts and bands, and it makes me jump. I do love an English summer.

I’m not being sarcastic, I really do love the mixed-up weather. I don’t mind it raining; as long as it’s not just grey - you know, those days where it’s just grey, grey, grey and nothing’s going on.

In the week, I like to park up by the park, sitting in my car with Radio 2 on quietly. I sit, book in hand whilst big, fat drops of rain drum on the roof and wash down the windscreen. I love it when it the rain is falling so thick and fast that the rhythm is non-stop, and you’re just sitting warm and wrapped up, sandwich in hand and lost in a literary world. Far away from computer screens and ringing phones, emails, artificial lights, deadines and demands.

I’m glad it’s  finally Friday and it’s raining. This evening, I ran a bath, threw open our non-overlooked window wide and wallowed in the depths whilst the fresh, warm summer storm-tinged air rushed around our bathroom. Forget expensive lotions and potions, that, to me, is luxurious living.

So I sit here, late on a Friday night, post-bath and clad in my old, tatty nightie and oversized bath towel wondering what I’m going to do with my free weekend. Last night I managed to finally plant in my aubergines and butternut squash plants, so that’s already one job off the list.  Whether they actually do anything now and even flower or bear any fruit is another question altogether. I still have visions of home-made butternut squash soup, butternut squash curries… can you make a butternut squash cake?

Speaking of cakes, I’m back on a weight watching mission. Geesh, it can be so boring. I love my chocolate, crisps, chips, curries and naughty stuff. I love veggies and soups too, but nomnom, sometimes there’s just nothing that can beat a big ol’ bar of Fruit’n'Nut.

But mehh, I’ve been slowly but surely gaining weight and it’s just not on. It doesn’t fit and I’m not happy about it. You see, I have this vision of me in the future; I’m a writer, and I live by the sea. I’m fairly fit (it might be all the walking and cycling I do on my Pashley) and I look it; no perma-tired eyes, no pallid skin. Instead, I move easily, I look toned and have a healthy glow. I smile a lot and laugh easily.

But at present, I just feel like Jabba the Hut, lolling around my desk all day and looking pale, tired, spotty and stiff. And when I finally get home, I’m so tired I can’t be arsed to do much, and when I do go outside and potter, I’m like a stiff plank of wood. And I feel about as interesting and attractive as a plank of wood. Actually, I feel a bit invisible.

Man, I need to exercise more.

I’m looking into signing up to Pilates classes in September, and if all goes well, the eardrum that burst on the flight back from Edinburgh will be healed and I can go swimming soon. I’m currently undergoing ‘intensive’ osteopathy sessions too, which really seem to be helping. I’m allowed to disappear into a room and stretch at work (which is great), and I think things are starting to improve. So it then goes that I should make an effort to lose some weight, and feel more comfortable in myself. What a girl. What a complete and utter girl I am.

Of course, I have lots of vegetables growing in my veg plots, which is good news on the healthy eating front. The challenge is to come up with ways of making them a bit more interesting than having a reoccuring menu of vegetable soup, veggies and gravy and vegetable curry. Hmmm. Time to get some cook books out, me thinks.