Right, that's Xmas over with.
All fairly uneventful: the usual blend of eating and drinking punctuated with being humiliated at scrabble by schoolgirls. And hardly any TV. Got a bit of reading in though: I'm halfway through Cormac McCarthy's 'The Road', a bleak but highly readable account of a father and son travelling across the scrorched earth of a post apocalyptic USA. Mind you, I'm not looking forward to reaching the end - from the first page you know it can't possibly finish anything but badly. Also dipping into Claire Tomalin's 'Thomas Hardy: The Time Torn Man', very readable too, as well as ploughing on with the Brothers Karamazov, which I suspect I'll still be reading this time next year.
Predictably, the festive season has seen a hike in blood sugar readings. Unlike on previous holidays everything stayed under control while we were in Marrakesh - thanks mainly to scarcity of booze, a lot of walking and redistributing any white bread I was offered back to people in the street. In Blighty though things took a rather different turn and I registered a scary 15.7 the day after Boxing Day. That's what comes from sitting about on my arse boozing and feasting, it would seem. So back in London now and back on the bike but still some way to go to get back to base camp 6.0
On a lighter and more peurile note, here's some testicles in Yves Saint Laurent's Majorelle Gardens in Marrakesh that rather amusingly resemble cactuses.
1 comment:
arf arf!
reading the spy who came in from the cold, ace!
happy new year k0f1
xmas sounds fun!
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