I was very sensible last night and refused to give into my urges to gorge on something, but this morning I deliberately avoided breakfast, so that I would have an excuse to order a nice sausage and scrambled egg bap from the staff canteen.
So I guess I still have some work to do on the mental side of weight control.
In other things to think about, I’m still finding it very hard to get back into the work mode I was in during lockdown. The extra challenges and changes really had me buzzing, but then I had some time off, and now I really feel like I can’t be arsed at all.
I guess the heat doesn’t help. We Caucasian, Northern-Hemisphere, British folk aren’t used to moving around in thirty degrees Celsius. As soon as we have a proper Summer we start overheating and shutting down. Out internal thermometers tell us we’re far too hot to be working, or moving, or thinking, and our brains react by slowing us down to the energy levels of a comatose sloth.
I am seriously looking at booking us another holiday. There are bargains to be had. It’s risky, because I’m thinking about October, and it’s impossible to know which areas of which countries will be quarantined, or in local lockdown, or under any other kind of restriction you might wish to give a name to, but still. Three hundred Euros for a four-night stay in Southern Spain? Tempting, to say the least.
A quote from Ted, about this year’s World Snooker Championship, that I don’t understand, but which may be amusing to fans of snooker:
“I can’t stand watching Mark Selby play. It’s so safe and boring. He spends more time on the table than my favourite fork.”
RC 12-8-20
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