I've just got back from eight days in Greece – following on from 10 days in France, with only two days at home in between trips to recuperate (I know I have the best job in the world, but sometimes it's nice to come back home and stay there for a while – when I found out that I don't have to go to Burgundy at the end of the month, as I had expected, I nearly opened a bottle of Champagne in celebration).
The Greeks are incredibly generous hosts, and as a result every meal was a belt-buster. We were up in the mountains, as well, so this was all country food: wild boar stews cooked in red wine and served with noodles, beef fillet with wild mushrooms and veal meatballs served in a creamy egg and lemon sauce. Few of the meals we enjoyed (endured?) featured fewer than four courses, all rounded off with desserts so sweet my teeth ache just thinking about them. There was wine, of course, plenty of it. And there were two meals like this a day. In the end, the relentlessness of it all was a godsend because I lost my appetite entirely by the third day of the trip and just ended up picking at things.
As a result, although I was dreading stepping on the scales this morning, I was delighted to see them read 84.8kg. So things are, once again, moving in the right direction.
It's obviously not just water loss, either, as I'm currently wearing a pair of size 16 Gap jeans I had to give up on two years ago because the waistband was too tight for comfort. True, I've got a bit of a muffin top, but the jeans are pretty comfortable.
The bad news is that I went for a run yesterday and barely made it once round the park. I've got a session with James on Friday – I hope I can do a bit better by then.
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