A year in – a summary

Well, it's pretty much a year to the day since I started this blog, so I guess it's time to ask what I've achieved – and what I could have done better.

Let's start with the weight – at the very best this year, I hit 82.9 kilos, down 12 kilos on the start of the year. I've put on just under a kilo and a half over Christmas – I'm now up to 84.3 kilos, but that's not the end of the world.

I've dropped around a couple of dress sizes, from a large 18 to a standard 16. And I'm much, much fitter than I was a year ago, when I couldn't even run for the bus without getting out of puff, never mind contemplating five kilometres.

On the down side, though, I kind of lost the plot after a cracking start to the weight loss. The challenge for this year will be to pick up where I left off and drop at least another 10 kilos (preferably closer to 15) by this time next year. One article I read recently that really made me think was about portion control, and that's something I'm really going to work on in the coming weeks.

And I'll keep posting stuff to this blog – so keep an eye out for some interesting recipes in the coming weeks and months.

The Christmas goose is getting fat...

...Sadly, though, it's not just the Christmas goose that's put on weight. Although I was down to 82.9 kilos three weeks ago, I'm now up to 84.8 kilos. It's my fault, really – I've spent the past fortnight in an orgy of cooking, eating and indolence (highlights have included a fantastic fore-rib of beef, served with spuds roasted in goose fat and pillowy yorkshire puds, and a slow-roast shoulder of lamb that just fell apart at the prod of a fork).

I'm hoping, though, that the weight that's gone on so fast will come off again equally quickly. My knee is also on the mend and, over the past few days, I've been running again. It's amazing how quickly you can lose condition thought – I did two miles (3.5 km) the other day and nearly died in the attempt. Five ks looks almost as unachievable as it did a month or so ago... Still, one step back and two steps forward is the order of the day, so I'm about to go for the third run of the week. If I don't kill myself out there, I'll be back in the next day or two with some updates.

James's advice on injury and exercise

As a rather annoying coincidence, just as you're feeling good and starting to reap the benefits of exercise and a healthier lifestyle, something happens that sets you back... Darn it!

As is often the case, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to your injury. There will almost certainly be no warning – it just seems that at a certain point in your training, bits start hurting and not working as well as they had earlier on.

Fear not... it happens to the best of us. I can remember training really hard for a run I wanted to take part in. I was working intensely – so much so that, come the end of most days, I found it hard to walk. It turned out that the problem was more in the nature than a cry for help from my muscles than anything too serious.

If you think about it logically, the reason for the discomfort is quite clear. Any change in your routine is going to have an effect. When trying to lose weight, we strive for a ‘negative energy balance’ – we aim to eat less but do more. This equation also applies to our bodies when you step up the pace, whether it’s your joints, your muscles, your energy level or anything else.

In a weight-loss programme, levels of intensity and strain increase rapidly to begin with (due to the lack of activity previously), so strict attention to form is essential as you don't want to pick up any bad habits that will stay with you.

Often a joint or other area of your body will start to experience discomfort when you begin your exercise regime or when you increase the demands on your body. This discomfort is usually due to you not having used your body in this way before. You are challenging it and it’s letting you know about it.

My advice is to stay with it, while bearing in mind that an initial rest period if you experience a minor injury is no bad thing. In fact I think it is quite good to shock your body with a change of routine on a regular basis, so turning off the heat then turning it back on again may well work in your favour.

Remember, though, that it’s important to listen to what your body is saying. You may need to seek advice from someone with an X-ray machine if the pain continues. Although 75% of our ‘niggles’ turn out to be something quite harmless, 25% can be symptoms of something more serious.

No excuses – well, maybe just a couple

I'm sorry, I've been totally crap about posting anything on this blog for a while. I could put it down to the end-of-year rush at work, or I could lay the blame at the door of my computer – it's been getting slower and slower for a while and I eventually took it into the workshop to have the hard drive cloned and then doubled in size. That's when I was told I'd nearly knackered it by only having four gigs of hard drive space free. Anyway, the new drive was re-installed with no problem, but getting some extra RAM into the thing proved challenging – it was on order for days before it finally came through, and I was computer-less for over a week, something I'm not used to and which makes me feel distinctly uncomfortable...

Added to which, I had an exercise triumph – I managed to plough my way through five kilometres, although it took me nearly 40 minutes to do it – quickly followed by another exercise nadir. When I woke up the day after my five-k run, I could barely stand. I'd done some damage to my knee that left me limping. It's taken me almost a fortnight to be able to walk on it without getting a twinge, and it turns out that I'm not the only person to suffer a similar setback just at the point when everything seems to be coming together on the exercise front. The next posting on this blog will come from James, who has a theory as to why this might be...

Things are finally moving in the right direction

It's taken ages, for one reason or another, but I've finally moved off my plateau. This morning I weighed in at 83.7 kilos... Hurrah!

Another milestone, quite literally...

I managed to push on through my 2-mile barrier yesterday. I planned a new route for my run and just went for it. True, by the end my legs felt like jelly, but I just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and I made it. I've found there's a bit of a psychological trick to it too. I divide the run into segments and push myself until I get to the end of each segment – then I tell myself I should get through at least one more segment. Sooner or later, you end up so close to the finishing line that it seems like a shame to give up...

Happy as a...

I went out the other night to the 'soft launch' of a friend's new restaurant – a bit like a dress rehearsal. The idea is that you give the restaurant kitchens and the front of house staff a chance to test out their abilities before they get let loose on paying punters. The place – Terroir, 5 William IV Street, WC2 – is just behind Charing Cross tube station and, once they've got over a few teething problems, I think it'll be a truly pleasant place for an evening out (and I'm not just saying that because it's a mate's restaurant). Mark and I tried a few of the dishes, including a steak tartare and salad of smoked duck breast with green beans and walnuts, but for me the standout dish was one of clams with ham, garlic and chilli.

I liked it so much, in fact, that I decided I wanted to try my own take on the dish, which I did last night. In fact, we liked it so much – and I got so carried away – that I forgot to take a picture of the finished dish (hence the generic picture of clams, top). Here's the recipe (Mark said it was even better than the original, but he could just be biased...)

Clams with ham, garlic, parsley and chilli for two

150g smoked bacon, preferably cut into thick slices, then cut into lardons
a skerrick of olive oil
a smear of butter
2 shallots, finely chopped
1-2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 red chilli, finely chopped
150ml white wine
150ml fish stock
600-700g clams
a large bunch flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil and butter (use as little as possible – it's just to lubricate things until the bacon fat starts rendering) in a heavy-bottomed casserole dish or saucepan, then add the lardons. Fry until the lardons are beginning to brown.

Turn the heat down low and add the chopped shallots. Fry gently until translucent and soft. Add the garlic and chilli and fry for another half a minute.

Stir in the wine and the stock and bring to a fierce boil until the liquid has reduced by at least a third.

Lower the heat to a medium flame. Tip the clams into the pan, along with the parsley and the pepper. Stir thoroughly then place the lid on the saucepan. Cook for another few minutes, until the clams have all opened. Serve in a bowl, along with a slice or two of bread for your non-dieting beloved...

Another simple dinner

It may not look all that great in the picture (no wonder food stylists get paid a good rate), but this dinner of plaice with a side of couscous and veg tasted pretty scrummy.

The plaice itself was well seasoned and then simply grilled, but it was the couscous and veg that made it special. I cut a couple of courgettes into chunks (quartering the courgettes lengthwise, then chopping them into 1cm-thick bits) and sauteed them in a sparing drizzle of olive oil.

While I was doing that, I also toasted some pine nuts in a dry frying pan (they've got some oil all of their own, so don't need any extra fat) and poured some boiling water over a small bowl of couscous then put a lid over it to let it swell up in the steam (with a stick of cinnamon in along with the couscous to add a bit more flavour).

I then got four or five pickled lemons (an ingredient traditionally used in Moroccan cookery and available in most supermarkets), sliced them into quarters lengthways, removed the pulp and roughly chopped the skins into large dice.

Once the couscous had absorbed the water and was completely tender, I stirred in the sauteed courgettes, the pine nuts, the pickled lemons and a good handful of chopped fresh coriander and a twist of black pepper. Very simple, but very good indeed.

Patron of the yartz...

When Mark and I had our post-wedding party last month, we wondered for a while about what kind of wedding present we should ask for. We knew we didn't need pots and pans or towels and bed linen and all the usual kind of stuff newlyweds get landed with. We certainly had more than enough toasters and kettles between us, having merged our two households a couple of years ago.

So we hit on the idea of asking our friends for a contribution towards the purchase of a painting. Today, with the grand total burning a hole in our pockets, we went to the Affordable Art Fair in Bettersea Park – and fell in love with the Lady with the Candelabra (left) shortly after we arrived (I think she was on the sixth booth we visited). Inevitably, she was more expensive than our budget had allowed for, but she was so beautiful that she stayed with us as we trailed round the rest of the fair (the picture doesn't do justice to the glowing colours of the paint or the intricate texture on the canvas). Mark and I saw some wonderful pieces, and we could easily have spent our money four times over, but we kept coming back to her.

Luckily, after a bit of haggling, we arrived at a mutually agreeable price that didn't compromise the art dealer's commercial instincts or our ability to pay. So the lady with the candelabra came home with us. I still think she's beautiful – and I'll carry on believing it for the rest of my life.

A big thank you to all those who helped us buy her...

I'm dreading this 5k run

I've tried and I've tried and I've tried, but I can't seem to break through the 3k barrier. With only six weeks (at the most) to go before I have to do this 5k run that James has put me up for, I can't see how I'm going to make it.

I spent the last couple of days in Geneva, on a commission to write up some restaurants in a deluxe hotel there (I'll post about the trip in full soon, and, yes, I know, tough job...) and spent some time in the gym while I was there. In theory, running on a treadmill should be easier than running on the street or in the park, but I still can't crack my 3k limit.

I'm rather beginning to dread this particular challenge...

Locked out!

So there I was on Monday morning, pootling round the house, getting ready for my session with James, when the rubbish men came. After emptying out the wheelie bin, the rubbish men left it out on the street. So I thought I'd do my civic duty and bring it in to the front garden. My trainers were upstairs, so I slipped on Mark's slippers – a pair of plastic flip-flops – and, latching the door (or so I thought), stepped outside to get the bin. It was a windy morning, as some of you may remember, and the wind caught the door and slammed it behind me. Had it actually been on the latch, as I was convinced it was, it wouldn't have been an issue – but it closed behind me with a bang. I was locked out.

Not a problem, I thought. Two of my neighbours have a key and, given that it wasn't quite 8.30, I thought one or the other must be in. In fact, the lights were on at Ann and Patrick's place next door and Anne's car was still parked out on the street. So I nipped through their gate and rang the bell. And rang the bell again. Nothing.

No worries, I'll thought, I'll try Rob and Jamie's. But the blinds were closed and I couldn't even hear the yapping of their neurotic little dog Connie.

It was at this point that James came cycling up the street, a broad smile on his face (no doubt in anticipation of whatever session of sadism he had in mind for the morning). Hating to disappoint him (not), I gave him the bad news – but I got no reprieve and found myself out in the park, doing step ups onto the bench and a series of boxing moves in Mark's slippers (how glam, not).

Lucky for me, it turned out that Ann was home after all – she'd just been in the shower at the point when I got locked out. Shame I didn't find out until after an hour's heavy exercise in my plastic flipflops. Next time I get locked out, I'll try and make sure I'm wearing my trainers...

Flash dinner on the go

Have you ever found yourself having to cook dinner for guests at the end of a long day? If you have, you know how much of a pain it can be to faff around in the kitchen when all you really want to do is mong on the sofa (preferably with a nice glass of wine, but we don't even want to go there, do we?)...

So here's my guilt-free solution to dealing with dinner for four. It's a versatile dish of pot-roast chicken and veg that's based on a traditional French recipe. You can use a whole range of vegetables – I used squash, peppers and leeks, but you could also use celery, courgettes or onions (and that's just off the top of my head – I suggest you experiment for yourself if you like the basic dish). Don't worry about the quantity of garlic; you can leave it out if you want, but it adds a wonderful mellow perfume to the dish and doesn't dominate the flavours at all.

Pot-roast chicken with vegetables for four

4 chicken thighs and 4 chicken legs, skin removed
a drizzle of olive oil
1 butternut squash, deseeded and cut into large chunks
3 peppers (of whatever colour), deseeded and cut into large chunks
2 leeks, cleaned and cut into large chunks
1 head of garlic, separated into cloves
300ml chicken stock
150ml dry white wine
a couple of sprigs of thyme, stalks removed
2 bay leaves
a good handful of flat leaf parsley, chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 200C.

Brown the chicken, a few pieces at a time, in the hot oil in a heavy oven-proof casserole.

Pile the chicken back into the casserole dish, along with the veg, the garlic, the stock, the wine and the thyme and bay leaves. Season well.

Put the lid on the casserole (it must fit fairly tightly) and place the casserole in the oven.

Cook for about an hour (you can check after 45 minutes).

Serve (with mashed potatoes for those who can eat them – you should leave well alone, of course) and sprinkle with chopped parsley.

A threatening email

I've just received the following email from James, the trainer I work with most of the time.

'Just been on Google and our run this morning was 0.9725 miles. 3 miles by the end of the year is not a problem. Anyway you've done it with me before. This time though, we'll take out the walk parts of the ratio.....

Have fun'

Now that's what I call a threatening email...

Things get steamy

A few months ago, I was walking past my local cookshop and, in the window, I saw a marvellous, shiny piece of kit that I just had to have... It was a big stainless-steel wok, with a huge steamer and a see-through lid. The reason it caught my eye was that I'd recently tried to cook a dish that had worked perfectly well in the past when I'd been cooking for one, before Mark and I moved in together, but which had proved logistically impossible as dinner for two. The dish in question was steamed chicken with mushrooms. A small plate for one person fitted neatly into my bamboo steamer, but when I tried to make enough for both of us the bamboo steamer just wasn't up to the job. So the big wok, with its vast steamer, was just what I needed.

So far, I'd just used it as a wok, but the other night I decided to cook the dish that had inspired the purchase. Fate was clearly working against me. I wanted to use shitake mushrooms, because I like their meaty texture and full flavour, but there weren't any in the shops, so I had to use other mushrooms instead. No matter. The finished meal was pretty tasty anyway, in a soothing kind of way.

Steamed chicken and mushrooms for two

2 skinned chicken breasts, cut into thin slices
1 punnet mushrooms, preferably shitake, but oyster mushrooms or other 'exotic' Asian mushrooms will do, sliced
1 can straw mushrooms, drained (if you can't find straw mushrooms, either in your local supermarket or in an Asian supermarket, you can use another punnet of mushrooms – I'd suggest using a different type from the first punnet, just to add texture and flavour)
1 bunch spring onions, trimmed and sliced
a thumb of fresh ginger, peeled and cut into matchsticks
100mls chicken stock
1-2 tbsp dark soy sauce
1 tbsp rice wine
1 bunch fresh coriander, chopped

Place the chicken, mushrooms, spring onions and ginger in a shallow heatproof dish, then mix everything together.

Pour the liquids into the dish and give it all another stir.

Meanwhile, get some water boiling in the bottom bit of your steamer, then reduce heat so that the water is boiling steadily but not too fiercely.

Place the dish with the chicken and mushrooms in the top part of the steamer and place it all on the steamer base. Cover with a lid.

Steaming is a remarkably quick, efficient way of cooking, so depending on how much steam there is, the thickness of your heatproof dish and a number of other variables, start checking on the dish about 10 minutes after you've put it on to steam. It's done when the chicken is cooked through, which shouldn't take more than quarter of an hour.

Sprinkle with coriander and serve with a small helping of brown rice or stir-fried egg noodles.

Steaming cooks

What I did with my weekend...

For one reason or another, time seems tight at the moment (isn't it funny how, given that time is an elastic concept, it can be tight or stretched, but never seems to be loose or slack?) We're at the peak of tasting season (I'm meant to be going to eight tastings this week, and could easily add another five or six), I'm travelling at the end of next week (to Geneva for a couple of days) and the beginning of the week after (to Bordeaux for a day and a half), have three articles to write this week and have eight people coming for lunch on Sunday (to give up my social life would be to admit defeat, I feel).

And so it was that I realised that unless I tasted all the wines I needed to taste for the article I have to write this week over the weekend, it wouldn't happen and there would be an almighty car crash of a missed deadline. So on Saturday afternoon I spent an hour unpacking the cardboard boxes that cluttered the hall (merely stripping off all the packaging tape, getting rid of the foam sleeves or pebbles that cushion the bottles, labelling the wines with the names of the company that sent them to me – it's amazing how many people send in bottles with no information, as if you'd recognise who they came from amid the dozens of other bottles you're dealing with – and deconstructing the cardboard boxes so that they can be put out with the rest of the recycling is an exhausting job in itself). I squeezed close on to 30 bottles of white wine in the fridge so that they could chill overnight and lined up the reds (see picture above).

The next morning, after a breakfast of two scrambled eggs, a slice of multigrain toast and some smoked salmon – yum – I made a start on the whites. I was done by lunchtime and was hoping to plough on with the reds in the early part of the afternoon, but Mark then reminded me that we'd been planning on going to see the Rothko exhibition at Tate Modern. When I suggested it might be better for me to finish my work, he sulked, so for the sake of marital harmony, I went to the gallery. I'm glad I did, it was a splendid exhibition. The only flaw was that the galleries were chock-full of people and I feel that Rothko's canvases are probably best appreciated in silence, in a place where you've got the time and space to meditate on them in peace. No matter, they were still awe inspiring.

On our return home, I went through the 36 or so bottles of red I had waiting for me. I was so exhausted at the end that I could barely uncork the last bottles (another reason to vote for screwcaps). My teeth were stained black from the tannins (never a good look, particularly because advice suggests you wait at least an hour after you've finished your tasting before you brush your teeth as the wine acids soften your tooth enamel and you're in danger of brushing it away if you clean your teeth too soon) and I've never been so grateful to sink into a warm bath (perfumed by Ren's brilliant rose bath oil, an affordable luxury for this recessionary world).

Thank goodness the weekend's over. I don't think I could stand the pace for much longer...

Last night's dinner was delish

After going to two tastings yesterday (one appallingly organised balls-up held on a smelly, badly lit barge docked at St Katherine's Wharf, in the shadow of Tower Bridge, the other a slick professional operation organised by one of the UK's major supermarkets), I was absolutely knackered. Quite frankly, I would have liked to opt for a take-away curry or a pizza from a supermarket, but I know that's verboten at the moment. I also needed a good, solid protein fix after spending much of the past few days in Italy, where everything seemed to come with pasta.

The solution was spice-crusted salmon, which we ate with a puree made of roast aubergines (about 50 minutes in the oven, until the skins blacken and the flesh turns soft and mushy) mixed with some 0% fat Greek yoghurt and reheated gently. We also had a stir-fry of veggies (they come in a pack in the supermarket), spiked with some lime juice to liven them up.

Spice-crusted salmon for two

2 salmon fillets (mine weighed just under 150g, Mark's was closer to 200g)
1 tbsp coriander seeds
half a dozen dried curry leaves (weird, but there actually is a plant called the curry plant)
1 mild dried Kashmiri chilli (any mild dried chilli will do – if you can't find any, use hotter chillies sparingly, this isn't really meant to be a spicy dish)
1 tbsp sesame seeds
sea salt
a smear of cooking oil (groundnut or vegetable would be best)

Make sure the salmon has been scaled and deboned. Rinse clean.

Heat a small frying pan on the stove, then, when it's smoking hot, add the coriander, curry leaves, chilli and sesame seeds. Cook until the spices begin to release their aromas. Place in a mortar and pestle with some salt and grind to a fairly fine powder.

Coat the salmon on both sides with the spices.

Heat a frying pan with a little bit of cooking oil, place the salmon in the pan and cook on a fairly gentle heat until the salmon is cooked as you like it (I like mine fairly rare).

Hampered by a friend

I have a friend who I love dearly but who, it has to be faced, is a bit of a flake. I've known him ever since I was a teenager – so for an embarrassingly long time – and in all those years, he's committed one social gaffe after another. This social ineptitude doesn't stem from any lack of intelligence – he's one of the brightest people I know – but he just can't seem to 'read' people and therefore has little sense of what is or isn't socially appropriate.

It was only a few months ago that he turned up for a Sunday lunch (for which I had planned, shopped and cooked to feed precisely ten people) with his two teenage sons. All well and good, apart from the fact that he'd neglected to tell me he was bringing them along. As a result, we didn't have enough chairs to seat everyone at the table and, worse yet, there wasn't quite enough food to go round.

In the run up to the post-wedding party, Mark and I had sent out 'save the date' emails in early March, to ensure that the people we most wanted to celebrate with would be free on the evening in question. Then, in late June, just before we sent the invitations out, we emailed everyone to get their correct addresses. Then the invitations went out in July. I even had a long conversation with this old friend of mine (let's call him Bob to preserve the blushes of the not-so-innocent) in mid-July where he explained that he'd nearly forgotten to tell his wife about the invitation, but had remembered in the nick of time.

You could say that we'd given people adequate warning. So I was hugely pissed off when, eight days before the party, I got an email from Bob to say that he hoped I wouldn't mind that his wife couldn't make it. Why? Because she'd got the dates wrong and was going to spend the weekend with a friend of hers in Stockholm instead. So, not a happy bunny.

Injury was then added to insult when, to make amends, a Fortnum's hamper arrived. It was a wedding present from Bob and his wife. Now I love a Fortnum's hamper as much as the next girl (in fact probably more than the next girl), but this one was stuffed full of tea-time stuff like biscuits and jams. Absolutely delicious. But possibly not the best thing to give a dieting bride...

Hitting the comfort zone

As I think I might have mentioned in my last posting, my honeymoon in Sicily was blighted by a bad attack of gastroenteritis. For the first time in living memory, I lost my appetite. No, actually, to tell the truth, the reality was far more cruel – I didn't lose my appetite, but my stomach griped and gripped and complained in all kinds of unpleasant ways if I ate anything for the best (or should that be worst?) part of eight days.

The only thing, over the course of the entire week, that I managed to eat with equanimity was a bean soup, so when I came back I had a go at recreating what I came to think of as the ultimate comfort food. Truth to tell, I couldn't resist embellishing the basic recipe, but this is just the kind of dish I find myself craving when I'm feeling a tad below par – especially as autumn draws on.

Italian bean soup for at least eight

500g dried cannellini beans, soaked overnight with a sprinkling of bicarbonate of soda (this helps prevent the skins from splitting as you cook the beans, or so I've been told)
250g dried chickpeas, also soaked overnight with some bicarb
olive oil
200g pancetta (or thick-cut bacon if you can't find pancetta), cut into lardons
2 medium onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
5-6 medium carrots, cut into half-moon slices
5 sticks celery, sliced
300ml chicken stock
2 bay leaves
250ml tomato passata
1/2 savoy cabbage or a good bunch of cavollo nero, sliced
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Cook the cannellini beans and chickpeas (separately) according to the instructions on the packet (I brought the beans to the boil, then drained them, then simmered them in fresh water for about an hour and a half, while the chickpeas only needed simmering for 45 minutes until tender after the initial boiling and draining). Don't forget to skim away any mucky-looking scum that rises to the surface.

Meanwhile, heat a dribble of olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan and fry the lardons until lightly browned. Remove with a slotted spoon, lower the heat and fry the onions gently until soft and translucent.

Add the garlic and stir for a further half a minute or so, then tip in the carrots and celery and cook until just beginning to soften. At this point, add the chicken stock and turn the heat up.

While the chicken stock is coming to the boil, take half the beans and half the chickpeas and process in a blender with a little bit of the cooking water until a thick paste is formed. Stir this into the saucepan – you have to stir fairly thoroughly, preferably with a fork or a stiff whisk, in order to get the lumps of bean puree to break up.

Add the remaining beans, the bay leaves and the passata and cook for a further half hour or so, until all the flavours are melded together. If necessary, add a bit more chicken stock or water to thin the soup out. About ten minutes before serving, stir in the cabbage and season to taste.

Those who aren't dieting might appreciate a dribble of olive oil in their soup bowl, as well as a hunk of crusty bread to dip in the soup.

Every girl's dream...

I've just returned from my honeymoon in Sicily with an extra-special gift – an attack of gastro-enteritis that has laid me low for much of the past week. Really, this is the gift that keeps on giving...

No – I'm not going to go into gory details. I'm sure you've all succumbed to something similar at one stage or another. But the fact that I've been off my food for the best part of a week (not to mention the other, more indelicate effects of the bug) has meant that despite the over-indulgence of the week of the wedding party and the fact that I ate (ahem) a few pastries and ice-creams while I was in Sicily, I haven't put on a gram.

And a quick chat with some of my girlfriends has revealed that, for most women, the upside to having any kind of lurgy is the fact that weight comes off with remarkable ease when you're not well. They do say that clouds have silver linings...

I'm feeling guilty...

No, not about my weight... I'm feeling bad because I haven't had any time in the past ten days or so to make any postings on this blog. You may feel slightly less angry with me if I tell you that, for the past couple of weeks I've had to write a couple of thousand words a day (as an average).

What – weekends as well? I hear you ask. Ah, well, last Saturday was the date of Mark and my post-wedding party, where we got to say our vows in front of many of our friendss, rather than just our mums, who were the only people present the first time round. Sunday? Well, Sunday, as you might expect was a recovery day, then my nose was firmly back to the grindstone from Monday on.

Why am I working so hard? Because Mark and I are off to Sicily on our belated honeymoon tomorrow, and we won't be back until the end of the month (potential burglars should be aware that Laszlo the guard dog will be staying, as will some friends). I promise that when I get back I'll return fired up with enthusiasm, ready to post some fab new recipes, courtesy of some inspirational sunshine. Until then, have a good September.