So Sunday the 15th of March turned me 25. Sadly, I spent the day feeling particularly fragile as a result of having a couple too many celebratory Shandy’s the night before. Having a circle of friends who thoroughly enjoy venturing out for a long night of craft beers and dancing to nostalgic classics like you’re Gene Kelly takes its toll when there’s a birthday to celebrate. Either way, it doesn’t stop you from being showered with party food and birthday cake, both of which I inevitably enjoyed.
I never used to be a fan of salad. More often than not, they’re about as exciting as daytime TV; which usually leads to you letting your cheat day slip. You’ll go from cheat day to cheat week before you can shout “take-out pizza”. Let’s be honest, none of us want that to happen. Don’t just plunk a bowl of leaves in front of you hoping you’ll feel satisfied after, that’s almost the equivalent of ordering an exotic cocktail made entirely of water. It’s just not going to hit the spot the way you like it.
I have a problem with leaving things until the last minute (I’m sure I’m not alone on this one). I think it must be genetic as my dad had the same problem. From what I remember, the beginning of almost every family holiday got doused in adrenaline due to the inevitable mandatory rush, whether we liked it or not, my dad would stall us. I like to imagine he did it on purpose either to wind my mum up or purely for the rush. Either way, it has been passed on to me. This year I’m a changed man, for Valentines day at least. I’ve teamed up with the cool cats at The Idle Man who have asked me to create three dishes to cook your girlfriend for Valentines day. As a result, I’ve rustled up a tried and tested, fail-proof valentines day survival plan for you fellas out there hoping to impress your lady.
AND WE’RE BACK TO EATING HEALTHY AGAIN.
Now and again I seem to accumulate waves of healthy eating will power. Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally 100% thankful for that, regardless of its fickle nature. I can only imagine that if I didn’t acquire these capricious surges, I would more than likely verge completely off the rails, crash-diving into obesity; only to be found crying into a mirror with cheesy puff crumbs decorated across my portly chin(s). It’s time to put an end to this.
It’s Sunday again, a day which single handedly justifies spending the duration in your pyjamas… and I’m not judging you for it, it’s totally acceptable. It’s also a day where brunch is most relevant, usually in hope to cure those post-Saturday night hangovers (chemically this never works, but we like to think so…) – Either way, it’s probably about time you switched Netflix off, put the kettle on and made some brunch. (or stay in bed, that’s fine too…)