Eat Yourself Smarter

The Oscars don't really show up any surprises. I can't argue with 'No Country For Old Men' for taking all the big prizes. Not that we've seen all the films nominated, some of them are still to come here. Also good to see 'The Counterfeiters' get best foreign language film. I suppose the surprise (to me) was Juno getting best original screenplay, which puts me off seeing some of the films it beat such as 'Michael Clayton' and 'The Savages'. Also that blessed rat got best animated feature film.



L's back on email today although she's not got any explanation for why this is suddenly the case. Computers do like to toy with us. She tells me she's been into town because she's read an article which recommended Sushi, yoghurt and fruit as brain food. She doesn't say whether that's all one dish or whether you eat them separately. She suggests the teenage habit of smothering them in tomato sauce as well. I think she's joking. I can barely eat tomato sauce these days, it's so sweet, it's like putting sugar on your food. When I was a teen, it was salad cream that did it for me, on almost everything. Understandably I can't stand the stuff now.

L doesn't say whether she feels any smarter after her brain food but assures me that there are no keyboard imprints on her forehead which means she's stayed awake all afternoon, which is something but I'm not sure that's the effect she was after.

I too venture into town at lunch as I have the car today, to try and get a haircut but I don't manage it because I couldn’t be bothered to queue. I don't do queues. It's bizarre because the reason I go where I go is because there's there’s never anyone in there. I will have to go back another day. So at the moment I still have long flowing locks just like Son.

Back home after work, I collect Doggo, then as usual drive back over to Derby for dog class, which goes well.

Once home again L tells me that she hasn't been accepted into Crufts for the Cani-cross, as we suspected she wouldn't. So back to trying to do it the hard way via agility. The people running the event are now refusing to refund the fully refundable entry fee. That's what they think...

Daughter is out with friends tonight and that's all I'm allowed to say about it. I’m not allowed to say what she’s been up to in case people think she's sad for going to see a film twice, so I won't mention it.

Wimp

I feel a right wimp for not cycling. The weather forecast has predicted high winds and snow flurries. It says a warm 0.5 degrees on our thermometer but I well remember cycling in a snowstorm last year, so I take the bus, bumping into the papergirls and Doggo on the way. The wind isn't very strong and there are lots of cyclists about. I'm already regretting my decision.

It says in the paper that foreign women who come to live in this country find it odd they don't get noticed in the street over here. They say that when they walk down a street in England nobody speaks to them, there's no 'good morning', there's no nod of acknowledgement. They complain, that it doesn't matter what they wear because no one is going to look at them. Eyes down, other people will just walk past them without a glance, they'll be no eye contact, and certainly no attempt at seduction.

This is, of course, because men in this country are terrified, not only of what their own women might do to them but also because these days some women would have them up in court just for looking at them.

Well, I always try and look. I shall try and be more open. Break the mould so to speak.

At work a colleague has cycled, for the first time in a month, what a day to pick but it makes me feel even more of a wimp. Mind you he does have a shorter trip than me and a mountain bike to cut through the snowdrifts. Apparently it's snowing in Sheffield, and in Hull.

L says the diet starts today. Lettuce for tea, I'm not sure if she means just lettuce or whether they'll be something else, like a tomato on the side. Either way it's probably a good job I'm at the pub for lunch today. Cottage pie and Hanby 'Yule Love It'. It took me a while to get that one. I also didn't 'love it'; it wasn't very nice.

L emails me a joke about someone who was offered food or sex. I've heard it before but I'm told that if I don't play my cards right and laugh at it I'll only be offered 'cake or cake' tonight. Oooooh. I’m laughing. I shall look forward to having my cake and eating it, as they say.

I get home, say hi to Doggo and Daughter, give Doggo a quick kick, and head off in the car to the pool. Mr Stop/start psycho guy is in one lane and psycho girl and her bloke in the other. Hobson's choice as the say.

I opt to share with Mr Stop/start, which is as traumatic as I expected. Until he suggests we have half a lane each, after which it's ok, although I'm surprised the attendants didn't throw us out for breaking the rules. When I get out L is waiting for me in the coffee room.

We head home, where L does cottage pie for tea. I don't know, you wait weeks for a cottage pie and then two come along at once.

Afterwards L looks very swanky in her slinky new pyjama shorts, with predicable results.