Yesterday was the 8th of December, the day the farmers come into town to do their Christmas shopping. Appropriately enough, I spent much of the day with a thoroughly rural friend of mine. Sisyphus, as we’ll call him, is a hairy and talkative man, whose uncouth countenance belies his (relative) intellectual sophistication. OK, this is beginning to sound like the part in an 18th century novel where the hero is introduced, but it should be perfectly clear by now that it is I who am the hero of all my tales.
Anyway, at 2:00 I was on my way to have a pleasant cup of tea with Sisyphus and then head in to college and study. Seven hours and seven pints later, I stumbled home. I didn’t eat anything in spite of the Pringles sitting in front of me, teasing me like a glass slipper would an ugly step-sister. But the seven pints presumably rendered that pointless. I sometimes think that I have aged too much to get drunk any more, but yesterday I was very warmly merry. I deserve it though. I’m working six of the seven days this week, so a day when I let my tightly-shaved-Dermot-O’Leary-style hair down was due.
I have resisted temptation quite a lot recently (in a haphazard, irregular manner) but I am definitely feeling fat this week. I didn’t even attempt to weigh in on Sunday. However, I am instituting a renewed Project Connor today. I’m off on my holidays on Monday, so I’m not spending any more money between now and then. I’ll barely have enough as it is, but I have stopped smoking, and stopped any eating that may be in any way nice, in an effort to have enough money to have fun in the Canaries. Hopefully that means a good weigh-in on Sunday (between the X Factor final and packing), and I can still be 21 stone by Christmas. It might also be helped by the fact that I don’t have much petrol left so I’ll probably be walking to work on Saturday and Sunday.
I said I was feeling fat this week. This was reinforced at work today. I was giving oral exams. This meant I was wearing a suit (the 56-inch one, not the 44-inch one) and was looking suave-er than usual. I would almost say “dapper”. Anyway, at the end of the examining session, the invigilator, a rosy-cheeked woman, whose job it is to usher the students in and out of the exam room, came in saying, “I absolutely have to tell you what the students were saying about you. They said you’re like a lovely teddy bear and they just wanted to put their arms around you and give you a big hug”. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for big hugs, and I quite like teddy bears, but what I wanted to hear her say was “They said you were a hunky stud of a man, and they just wanted to tear your clothes off with their teeth and lick nutella off your sculpted abs.” I’ll admit, it’s not the best-developed thought I’ve ever had. Where on earth did the nutella come from? We don’t tend to keep any lying around at work. Anyway, I’ll be examining again in March, so I’ll make sure to have a jar of it to hand.