This miserable repast is what counts for lunch today. There have been many mistakes made in recent days, the major one being daft enough to stand on the weighing machine early in the morning, screaming "It's broken, I need a new one!" and discovering it was not broken after all. The lack of exercise is taking it's toll.
Therefore, action was instigated, less fattening stuff eaten, fruit much used, and no difference recorded. There are other problems however, as this eating regime does not supply sufficient nutrition to the brain and therefore results in strange effects.
Here is an example of this. Today, as the sun was waning at lunchtime, I crossed the park seeking exercise and whisky. Our curate has at last found a church (five actually, all under him!) to accept him as Vicar, and we are all pleased about this. Crossing the park, avoiding others, I made my way to Tesco and acquired a special whisky and a bottle of sherry. I thought if he is a Vicar soon he will need to have a bottle on the table so he can offer this to those who do not drink, charity and thrift you see, all in one. The queue was long at each checkout, so I headed to the self-service machines, which we love! Now whisky in boxes (even if on offer as here) means you collect an empty box, thus detering thieves and making you wait while someone gets a box with a real bottle inside for you. I got to the machine, it spat at me, I think I must have used this one before, and began the long operation of filling a bag. First I gave the young chap the box to fill, then put the sherry through the machine and into the bag along with all the other stuff. When he returned I thanked him, added the whisky and pressed 'Pay.' Naturally it all went wrong. Eventually, with a young lassies help, I paid, left and headed out. As I left the shop the magic alarm bells rang for theft as I wandered through the door! I carried on, all things being well and nobody responded. Glad my fight with the self-service machine over I headed home for what you see was a substantial lunch.
It was later that I realised a problem. Around the sherry bottle was a large tag! It appears that being concerned with the whisky, being malnourished, and being gormless, all at the same time, I had not noticed the electronic tag on the bottle, one which a checkout girl would have removed. That explained the alarm bells when I left!
What an idiot!
Back home I tried to undo the tag, this is not possible, and after several poor attempts I decided to leave it, drink the blasted stuff myself and get the man a bottle via the checkout later.
Anyone for nutritious sherry....?
