Hoorah!

Another good and practically painless day. Diet wise that is, darn car failed it's M.O.T which is enough to make me spit, ho hum, what's to be done?
Breakfast was a slimfast, love those things.......some grapes to munch on and a bucket of water and we were fit to go for the day with Isaac and mummy.
Brixham is a beautiful place and well liked for holiday makers. This means ( of course) that on every corner and in between there are fish and chip shops , is there a more mouth watering smell than chips and vinegar? The sound of seagulls, smell of the sea and fish and chips in paper. It is almost obligatory to have some. BUT I DIDN'T! I ate a small jacket potato, from the 'HOT and BUTTERY,' a little family run cafe that sells baked potatoes, one would assume, from it's name, that this would see you faced with a piping hot potato dripping in golden, melted butter. Now I avoided the chips, give me credit but the body is weak and I 'forgot' to tell them not to put butter on my hot and steamy spud. How bizarre then that it arrived, luke warm with a glob of margerine. Cheap margerine, white margerine that didn't even melt because the potato wasn't hot enough. Baked beans and salad. When I say salad, what I mean is a ripped piece of lettuce , one slice of tomato and some onion.
Isaac wanted chicken nuggets, which they didn't do...then he saw a scone and thought that looked good. the one he pointed to looked good but they gave him a different one. It was evil, it stared at him and he stared right back and he didn't eat it. He did hold his knife in a rather threatening way and try to terrify it into going back from whence it came but it just sat there, lopsided and brown. We don't like brown in this house, unless you are chocolate or have mexican blood we don't like brown. We love toast ( and when I say we, I mean they, the boys ) but not brown toast, when we ask for toast it is " can I have some light toast please" this means hot bread, just hot bread, not brown, crispy toast. A brown scone therefore was out of the question. I started to wrap the scone in a napkin to bring home for daddy ( am I marvellous? Did I even think of just eating it there and then and putting it out of it's unbuttered misery? ) bad move, he may not have wanted to eat it but it was there and it was his and he hadn't quite decided what to do with it. What was impressive though is that he didn't cry, or scream...he just scowled and made it quite clear that this lunch was not fun, not successful at all.
Eventually the scone was suitably sorry for being itself and brown and was wrapped until we got outside where it was eaten, after the brown was scraped off.
Dinner.....my favourite spaghetti dish.
Turley rashers ( the dieters dream, 98% fat free. I think 3 of them are 1 weight watcher point) they taste exactly like bacon, fried and crisped, cooked with onion , mushrooms, garlic and celery, canned tomatoes and stacks of black pepper. Poured over spaghetti, truly delicious and so low in calories and fat and anything bad that you can eat as mush as you like, as long as the pasta is rationed.
I am trying to decide whether to record measure ments here. Watching the inches go down is almost as satisfying as losing the lbs but I'm afraid to measure myself let alone record it! We'll see.