I’ve just realized how shabby I’ve been, by not letting you know just how awful my food consumption was at the weekend. Me and Boo set off (somewhat earlier than anticipated...) on Friday for a lovely seaside break; staying at the refurbished and renamed White Rock Hotel in Hastings. We started off with sausage baguettes and chips on the terrace then progressed to an unhealthy selection of frozen snacks from Iceland. My beautiful niece (and her parents of course) met us on Saturday morning whilst we were eating a massive fry up breakfast…and we quickly moved on to ice creams at Flamingo Park. Then sandwiches and an antipasto mezze mix thingy. Then crisps. Then lager. Sunday morning consisted of both poached eggs on toast AND a bacon sandwich. Greedy git. Then more sandwiches when we got home. Then pizza. Then a Vienetta (courtesy of good old Iceland again).
To offset the above, I did make blueberry smoothies – but felt too sick to drink mine. Almost.
I fear the carb’s have found me good and proper.
I can only put this awful slip down to my complete and utter misery at the moment, due to a wealth of different reasons – all of which are too long and too blah to list here.
Am I the only person who comfort eats when both ecstatically happy and suicidally miserable?