Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow ...

I haven't written out of shame. I blew it. All. Las Vegas style. Leaving Las Vegas Style - think Nicholas Cage with the supermarket trolley. Yup. I mean if you're going to ... why not? With guilt and sin, there's always forgiveness, or at the last resort, extreme unction.

The food intake this week was a formal not a material sin.

(This distinction is based upon the difference between the objective elements (object itself, circumstances) and the subjective (advertence to the sinfulness of the act). An action which, is contrary to the Divine law but is not known to be such by the agent constitutes a material sin; whereas formal sin is committed when the agent freely transgresses the law as shown him by his conscience, whether such law really exists or is only thought to exist by him who acts.)

Look, either way, its bad. But in diets as in religion, there is always a way back, from almost anything, isn't there? Isn't there? A way back? Forgiveness? Even from cynicism (Elle has told me that this blog is far too cynical). But not from despair. I know that despair is one of the worst sins, and I'm not there yet. In fact, I was anything but despairing as I ordered a large bag of chips at midnight on the Kilburn High Road on Saturday (£1.80's worth of joyfulness and hope). Ah, the crunch of fat, the sizzle of salt and malt vinegar. After an evening of champagne and about 20 (give or take) canapes (hot and cold) at an establishment do, it seemed like the right thing to do. Physically, morally and politically, given the company I'd been keeping. However, many unadvisable things do seem convincing at midnight on the Kilburn High Road (my pacifist friend recently had a punch up with two Australian cricket fans outside 'Chicken Chicken', so I should know better).

But in case this turns into a blasphemous confessional - I'm sure there's a circle of hell for frivolous scribblers like me who compare Catholic theology to dieting - I must tell you, I'm back on track - really.

Today:

3 tablespoons of oats
Cold milk
(sorry Elle, I just can't be arsed to cook them at 6.45 in the morning and besides they taste fine)
Expresso x 3

Apple x2

Bean salad (as instructed)
Green leaves (rabbit style)

Bowl of miso gruel
1 sweet potato roasted - tasteless
Fried egg (Mum gave me 12 from her hens so I felt I should)
2 tomatoes
4 glasses of red wine

Now, I know that doesn't look like I'm back on track, but I thought I could replace various things with the red wine? No, oh, perhaps that doesn't quite work.

Good thing: Have managed not to weigh self for 6 days - because I don't want to know.

Resolution: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps on .... Things can only be better. That sounds a bit New Labour, but they were pretty convincing at the time ...