From fasting to slowing…

I fasted yesterday.Not for religious reasons but because I am getting my body used to cooked food again. I have been totally raw since April first, no joke let me tell you. But over six months it has done wonders for me. Now I need to introduce a cup of coffee here, a plate of rice and beans there, a pile of chips, or soup made with lentils and coconut.
My ten day cleanse is an Ayurvedic tradition, and I love it. Four days of mung bean soup, one day of fasting, and five days of mung bean, rice and vegetables. I feel a little unsteady on my pins, but in a nice way.
The notion of dieting is beyond me now, at my age eating for the soul means I may get to see my grandchildren if the biological daughter ever decides to lay down her musical instruments and find a father for her unborn eggs.

I went to bed last night after watching Lee Mack on the Liar programme. I absolutely love the man. He is unashamedly unpretentious, funny and quick. I really like the Mitchell man as well, one of my fave shows, although last night was dull, it could have been that I had a fasting head and laughing took up too much energy.
When I woke at 5.33 I was pleased the day and night was over – I wanted to eat.
Instead I stayed in bed and listened to the dawn chorus. There’s one bird outside my bedroom window who sounds like loose change being rattled in a pocket. I’ve no idea what the bird is but its chinking song made me laugh.
It was misty and damp this morning, a very autumnal scene. The leaves under the apple trees are yellow and the mushrooms are growing round by the old gate. I made my veg soup and sat at the kitchen table slurping whilst I talked to my mother, my daughter, my best friend and my hairdresser. Felt indulgent and very Saturday.
There is a balance coming back into my life. As long as I don’t dwell too long on LBC’s offices I am fine. I so miss the people and the Leicester Square vibe. But after Costa Rica I shall find something to replace it with.
I have my logical daughter, son-in-law and grandchild visiitng later so I’m going to cook something suitable childcentric that the adults can pig out on as well.
I have two friends visiting for tea, then coffee, and tonight it’s pure craponthetellytime. From dancing to bad singing. The old git hates Saturday night telly, until something overly sentimental comes on and he’s in there with the tissues alongside me;.
I cannot believe how emotional I got when I saw Anne Widdicome dance. It was the generosity of the crowd and her dear little face. Don’t mention her politics though.
I’m off now to put the kettle on, plan my menu and hug the husband. Well why not it’s the weekend….