Sunday, May 28, 2017

Without Rings

I couldn’t find Michelin Man Don’t Live Here No More on YouTube, so Without Rings will have to do. Back in January, my colleagues and I were asked to pose for a photo, together with our New Year’s Resolutions. Initially, I thought about putting, “Take up smoking” or “Be even nicer to my students”. Then I remembered, however, that I had just hit a 90-kilo high on our bathroom scales, so getting rid of that spare tyre seemed to be an even worthier goal.

I scribbled a simple 4-month “10-kilo plan” on my mobile:

  • ·         Jan 25th, 90k -4
  • ·         Feb 25th, 86k -3
  • ·         Mar 25th, 83k -2
  • ·         Apr 25th, 81k -1
  • ·         May 25th, 80k

And, much to my own amazement, I actually made it!

They don't make feet like that anymore, do they! But I digress... Back home, my achievement has not gone unnoticed: “Are you sure those scales are working properly?”, “You don’t look like you’ve lost ten kilos”, “What you need to do is drink less and get more exercise” ... and similar words of encouragement.

I’ll have to leave you now, I’m afraid. My dear mother-in-law has organised another family reunion because her 47-year-old little boy is going to Germany next week, and we may never see him again; at least for a month or two. When he does come back – in three weeks’ time at a guess – we will obviously have to celebrate his safe return with another banquet.

I think I'll give those scales a miss for the next week or two!

‘Bread, butter, cheese ...’
It was a depressing list.
‘Buns, biscuits, cakes ...’
Then again, all of Mick’s lists were depressing these days.
‘Beer, brandy, chocolate ...’
Why did all the good things in life begin with B or C? And, more to the point, why were all the “good things in life” bad for the body, a burden to burn off and crammed with cholesterol-enhancing calories?
‘Burgers, bacon, chorizo ...’
Summer was approaching fast, and the daily beach inspections were just around the corner. It was time to bring out his trusted “no BBC for me” diet.
‘Brownies, bagels, cream teas ...’
Mick was struggling now. He’d never had a bagel in his life and, let’s face it, “cream teas” was a bit of a cop-out, wasn’t it? He’d be resorting to brand names next.
‘Baileys, Ballantine’s, Cointreau ...’
Thankfully for both Mick and the Spanish wine industry, Rioja began with an R.
‘Bacardi, Beefeater, coffee ...’
Coffee?! No way! Besides, all the klever dicks spelt koffee with a K, didn’t they?
If you kan’t beat them, join them! kontemplated Mick, sipping his ice-kold koffee.

fifty Shades of Spain, Chapter 48, “Food For Thought”


  1. Impressive mate, 10 kilos is not to be sniffed at. I suggest a slap up meal with lashings of ale to celebrate!
    Your rather naughty comment about the 47-year-old little boy and his "prodigal-son-like" return struck a bone with me... I know a few families like that.

    1. Hi, Reggie! Thanks for reading and commenting. If I could give up the ale too, I think I might have lost *20* kilos by now. But no way! Hope you're keeping well, and see you on FB, I suppose.