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.
