Level Four Lockdown: Day Nineteen
Curfew. 8 p.m.
Mood: Level. Better for fish and chips.
I have fish and chips approximately twice a year. I love fish and chips, but fish and chips don't love me. And if you're going to have fish and chips, you need to get your fish battered and you need to have the extra potato cakes (not potato scallops - I'm not a heathen.)
I also find it funny that in posting a pictre of the said fish and chips more than 40 people have signalled their pleasure at seeing my said dinner. The picture is found below.
Fish and chips takes me back to my university days, when we would regularly go to the Blue and White Cafe on O'Connell Street in North Melbourne after the pub for a serve of chips with lashings of vinegar and tomato sauce. Those were the days, when your metabolism let you do this. These days, fish and chips can set off my gall bladder - so a buscopan will be taken before I go to bed to stop the aches, the sweats and the uncomfortable feeling fatty food can provide. My mum has exactly the same problem. Dicky gall bladders run in the family - but they can be managed.
These fish and chips were extra special as they were bought for me by a friend and delivered before curfew. I hope he understands just how special these fish and chips are. I can't remember the last time a bloke bought me dinner.
Stage four restrictions meant they couldn't be shared. That's the one downer.
Regardless, I feel like a princess, even if I'm going to have to live on chicken and salad for the next week to sort my system out.
I just feel a bit blessed.
Today's Song:
Curfew. 8 p.m.
Mood: Level. Better for fish and chips.
I have fish and chips approximately twice a year. I love fish and chips, but fish and chips don't love me. And if you're going to have fish and chips, you need to get your fish battered and you need to have the extra potato cakes (not potato scallops - I'm not a heathen.)
I also find it funny that in posting a pictre of the said fish and chips more than 40 people have signalled their pleasure at seeing my said dinner. The picture is found below.
Fish and chips takes me back to my university days, when we would regularly go to the Blue and White Cafe on O'Connell Street in North Melbourne after the pub for a serve of chips with lashings of vinegar and tomato sauce. Those were the days, when your metabolism let you do this. These days, fish and chips can set off my gall bladder - so a buscopan will be taken before I go to bed to stop the aches, the sweats and the uncomfortable feeling fatty food can provide. My mum has exactly the same problem. Dicky gall bladders run in the family - but they can be managed.
These fish and chips were extra special as they were bought for me by a friend and delivered before curfew. I hope he understands just how special these fish and chips are. I can't remember the last time a bloke bought me dinner.
Stage four restrictions meant they couldn't be shared. That's the one downer.
Regardless, I feel like a princess, even if I'm going to have to live on chicken and salad for the next week to sort my system out.
I just feel a bit blessed.
Today's Song:
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