Quorn

Night of exhausting dreams. But up and working on psoriasis today. Also managed to squeeze in a visit to the gym and popped into the printers. In the evening sent them posters, and flyers for the play, which I can collect at the weekend. Also trying to ready a poem for a competition, with the subject root and branch, before Friday. Not there with one day to go.

Books from Amazon arrived today. Mughal Miniatures by J.M. Rogers, The Mind in the Cave by David Lewis-Williams, and 50 Literature ideas you really need to know by John Sutherland. Started the latter tonight on Lorraine's couch. (She was reading Larsson's The Girl Who Dragged It Out Interminably.) It's free of the onanistic obfuscation that clots most lit crit in all its guises, and will be a good read once I get time.

Richard said that Holly one of his wee dogs is exactly 7.5 kilos (the amount I have lost since Christmas) so am now visualising a Border Terrier's worth of flab capering off into the Vale. Keen to continue however, for it feels like when I became a non-smoker rather than an ex-smoker liable to slip again. Inside I already feel like a non-fatty, and I am just waiting for my body to fall into line. Amazing how much good you feel when you can fit into your trousers again, and the belt goes in a hole or two.

Quorn stew at Lorraine's house tonight. God bless the stuff, and God bless Lorraine who is definitely looking slimmer too.

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