So today one of the baby seagulls from up the road seems to have broken his wing. He was collapsed in a feathery heap at the bottom of my steps and people were pointing and cooing and I had to do something. There was no way I could leave him there - plus my dogs would have eaten him if they had clocked him.
We called him Boris. We put him in a box.
Boris in his box.
He has been taken away by Jackie with the big glasses that rescues them and will probably end up at the birdy hospital at Mousehole. Hopefully they can mend his wing and he can fly off and be happy.
Now on to fat stuff.
Today was day one of me being back on a 'diet' and I have been bleddy starving all day! Tell me this people - if I wasn't on a 'diet' then I wouldn't have thought about food at all but my tummy has been rumbling and grumbling, I have been sniffing the air like a beagle every time I passed a pasty shop and I think I may have even dribbled a couple of times too.
It's all psychological - you know this and I know this but my goodness, I want a sticker so bad that I am going to grimace and bear it.
I had something yogurty and rather vile for breakfast, a 'quiche' for want of a better word for lunch and for dinner I am having a grilled slab of gammon and some pretend chips and baked beans.
I have done the dreaded Tesco shop online, I have ordered more yogurt, heaps of fruit and some half fat cheddar. I cant go wrong with yogurt and fruit and half fat cheddar, really I can't.
My first sticker will be for losing half a stone and by any stretch of the imagination it certainly won't be stuck on my special book next week - especially as I have planned to go out for lunch on Wednesday but maybe the week after.
I still have to live my life and if that means a couple of hours in Caffe Pasta then that's fine by me.
Steak, greek salad, some Australian merlot and a fab view - what's not to like?
Who knows? I may even see Boris fly past while I'm nibbling an olive.