Backstory

My blood was 4.4 this morning - lower than normal, but hardly dangerous...

[A tumbleweed comes blowing through the scene. It pauses for a minute in my life today. Gets bored. Rolls off again.]

That's about all that could even loosely be termed to be interesting about my day. To be honest, as my deadline in work gets critical, everything else becomes little more than backstory. So while I'd love to tell you all about the hilarious antics I've been involved in today, I've been too busy to even recognise an antic if it wandered up and gave me a big wet kiss.

Of course, there's the fact that while Starbucks is no longer trying trying to kill me, Marks & Spencers has taken to being just plain mean. I used, occasionally, when I wasn't chowing down on fistfuls of McDonalds hash browns like they were going out of fashion (I'm reliably informed that they aren't), to stop off at Marks of a morning, for a glorious little pot of porridge. However, recently - in fact, now I think of it, ever since I've started this experiment and could really do with a slow-release carb for breakfast, rather than the kind of alternatives available (sandwiches, British breakfasts, Cornish pasties etc), every time I've gone, and lined up and shuffled along in the Communist-style early-morning Porridge-line - no porridge has there been. Nope, sorry mate, no porridge, no can do, eh what, you want what-now? Honestly, you'd swear I'd asked for Blue Whale burgers doused in babies' tears. So a big hearty fuck you, and the porridge pot you taunt me with, to Marks & Spencers. May your underwear always be shabby, and your panninis always be burnt.

Of course, I know what you're thinking - why not just pop into McDonalds - after all, they do porridge...
Well, yes, they do, but if I'm honest, when I'm on my own of a morning, I still don't trust myself to walk into a McDonalds. One day at a time and all that, but honestly, why would I take the risk, when Marks & Spencers bloody well do porridge. They do! I swear they do - it's on their menu in big black letters. They do porridge.

They just don't want to give any of the precious paste-like goop to me, that's all.

Bastards.

Other than that, busyness, a lunch that was basically soup, and a chinese dinner are probably not the most exciting elements from which blogs of golden mirth are made. On the other hand, I am about to get back on the bike for the first time since Tuesday's weigh-in, so there's bound to be plenty of pain, calamity and naughty words. Come back to me tomorrow, there'll be antics aplenty...Probably.