It is here at last. The 11th of January, a day I have been anticipating since well before Christmas. The reason I was looking forward to today was that it was the date I had set for catching myself on. The first of January would have been far too soon. A body hasn't even finished the Christmas food, never mind the alcohol and here at Nellybert's we were also receiving unsolicited donations of other people's Christmas food and drink. Tired of eating pannatone? Take it to Cully. A surfeit of Mr Kipling's mince pies? Nelly will soon redd those up. You don't actually like Bailey's Irish Cream? Gorby-guts does. She puts it in her coffee instead of milk and reels about until bedtime.
I began by weighing myself (a rarity) then I reported the result to Bert who said,
You're not! I have a heifer calf out there doesn't even weigh that much.
I had a look at those calves this morning and thought to myself I couldn't possibly be as heavy as them. At a pinch, if he really had to, I reckon Bert could lift me bodily. There is no doubt he'd do himself a mischief if he did but there is no way on earth he could pick up any of those calves.
How did the day go? It went well. I ate moderate amounts of healthy food and felt the better for it. There was just one thing. I had the strangest feeling, a feeling I haven't experienced for a very long time, a kind of flutteriness in the belly area. I believe it might be called 'peckish'.
So I distracted myself by researching typical weights of summer born Hereford heifers. That Bert! I'm only slightly above a third of what those calves (probably) weigh.