Grease Deficiency Syndrome

Grease is allegedly the word. It was the word last night, I can tell you - had a furious nipping sensation, driving me to find a chip shop. Got to Paddington and actually walked the streets, looking for one.

Found one. Had the change in my pocket for a large portion of chips.
"No, dammit," I muttered to myself, scaring some tourists. "It's a Thing! It'a a goddamnedsonofabitch THING!"
Walked away, got on a train, with my brain entirely hijacked by the idea of some hot, greasy carb. We picked up a delay, meaning we were likely to be stranded in Cardiff for an hour between trains.

An hour...

You can get up to Caroline Street, the so-called "Chip Shop Alley" of Cardiif...eat a large portion of chips...and get back to Platform 6 in an hour. Trust me, I know whereof I speak.

Fortunately...I suppose...we picked the time back up, and so there wasn't an hour spare, only three minutes, so my Grease Deficiency Syndrome was defeated by expediency.

But so far, this week, I've not given in to it. I've sooooo wanted to, but I haven't.
On the other hand, haven't done a thing in the way of exercise either. So next Tuesday's results will reflect...Whatever The Effect Of Not Eating Chips Every Day Turns Out To Be.

Chips CHips Chips Chips Chippppppps...
Sigh.

Going walking tomorrow though. No, really, I am...

Honest...