Preaster

Blood was back down to a far more sensible 5.5 this morning. For those seriously following this blog as any kind of dietary guide, one small note - started back on a previously routine breakfast this morning - three Weetabix. Certainly kept the hunger at bay till some sort of sensible lunchtime, rather than having me scrambling for something bread-baed mid-morning.

Seem to finally be slaying a few of the never-ending items on my list of Stuff To Do - though undoubtedly when I dare to go to sleep tonight, they'll steal a march on me.

Been another day up with the folks, pretty much. Wasn't exactly intended that way, we just...(shrugs) never really left.

Well, we left, but always with Ma - did two visits to the big local wannabe-Wal-Mart, ASDA, there was a visit to PC World for some extra memory (my brother's a techie of pretty impressive ability), so there was lots of business in the day, but mostly, been at the folks'...doing my day job.

My pal Wendy sent me a great supportive text this morning after my Satan Plan whispering yesterday. Lots of good stuff about falling off, getting back on, exercise rates, muscle resting....especially loved the bit about muscles resting...having the occasional treat etc etc. This was grest stuff, and if I hadn't gotten out of bed the wrong side, looking to fight someone, it would have put me in a great and expansive mood.

As it happened, it took the edge off nicely, allowed me mainly to focus my stone-kicking fury on getting some features edited. Still, technically, a day of no exercise whatsoever, and very much sitting on my arse. And tomorrow it's Easter. Or Oestera, if you prefer your calendar un-mucked-about-with. Good Friday when (wink, wink), some dude once got nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to one another for a change.

Cough, cough...let's not get into all that, here, most of you reading this already know what my view (and indeed history's view) of the whole thing is. Let's instead try and embody the spirit of 'being nice to people for a change'...

Went vaguely out in Merthyr tonight, incidentally.

Traditionally, bad things happen when I go out in Merthyr.

Well, actually, traditionally, bad things happen when people go out in Merthyr. It's that kind of town. Went with my brother and d to meet an old mutual friend of Geraint and mine, Karl. He was one of the surprise original readers of this blog, but apparently stopped due to descriptions of d's cakes. Apparently, he's in a relationship with a Woman Who Bakes too. We agreed it was very hard to say no to good baking, presented to you by your highly skilled partner - there's just no good reason to turn something like that down...

Anyhow, as d and Geraint and I walked up the high street from our flat to the pub, she said she felt like Dorothy on the Yellow Brick Road...
I'm not entirely sure what gave her that feeling, except maybe that she was flanked by the two of us. Karl, as it happens, has something of a leonine approach to hair, that makes him at present resemble nothing so much as the funnier of the Hairy Bikers, but it was irresistible to remind them both that he'd be a good candidate for The Lion.
I looked over at Geraint - tall, thin, and, against a Merthyr background, almost preturnaturally pale. Tin Man, definitely.
"T'riffic," I said. "That leaves me as the Scarecrow then, does it?"
They both looked at me, disbelieving my unbelieving tone.
"Well, you've got the hat," said Geraint reasonably - I'd chosen to go drinking in Merthyr in my full-on cowboy hat and the Disappearing Coat, in case, as Geraint also noted, I wasn't enough of a target beforehand.
"And you're losing your stuffing," d pointed out.
"...If I only had a brainnnn..." hummed Geraint insidiously.
I sighed.
"We're off to see the Wizard," I chimed in...

I mean, honestly, what more could any woman ask for than to be escorted through the streets by two (entirely straight, I swear!) Welsh showtunes-freaks?

Didn't stay out long though, in the end. Decided not to drink alcohol (The calories!! The callllorrriessss!!!!), so had a couple of fruity drinks instead, both of which were loaded with sugar. Figured if I carried on doing that, I might as well have gotten plastered. So we left, and came home, and are now contemplating the Goodness notsomuch of Friday as of a four-day weekend...
Woohoo! Good Friday, death, blood and alleged glory. It's a traditional family day to go visit our dead at the cemetary. Stand by for fun and games...