April Fuel

[El Gordo]

Yesterday was designated 'Fat Wednesday', a day scientifically determined to be far enough away from well-intended turn-of-the-year resolutions yet not quite close enought to summer beachwear consciousness. Now is the time for indulgence to slip silently into our daily routines. That occassional beer becomes an occassional session, the carefully monitored eating regime infiltrated by burgers and kababs. Packets of wine gums appear as if by magic in glove boxes and on beside tables.

As Leo DiCaprio said as he struggled to deal with a situation over which he had no control in Catch Me If You Can, I concur. Having convinced myself that reasonably regular running would take care of my spreading waistline complacency has morphed into full-blown foolhardiness. Last night I ordered up a room service feast - the food at Glasgow's quayside City Inn is nothing short of gormet - slurping down a large bowl of fresh leek and potato soup followed by the most wonderfully rich smoked haddock fishcakes bound with cream and laced with carmalised red onion. The apologetic rocket salad, dressed in a light balsamic vinigrette, remained unmolested. Barely had that cannonball landed in my ample belly than I was off up the road to the Snaffle Bit for more football and a large helping of Belhaven.

This would be fine and dandy if I were twenty five and burning energy like an Indian car plant, but as we know this is far, far from the truth. So this morning as I struggled to haul myself into a recently-purchased 'baggy' suit I resolved that, come rain or shine, I would take to the riverside at some stage today to at least show some resistance.

The exhibition - 'Fishing 08', an event by and for the UK commerical fishing industry - has just opened to the eerie sound of The Pipes. I'm perched on a comfy stool in the organisers' office, in all likelyhood to be left in peace for the rest of the day, a folded copy of The Times including Screen and Sports sections at my elbow and all the time in the world to read, surf and drink coffee. There are a number of excellent seafood bars in the hall laden with nautical fruit, all free of charge, with many fine wines available to wash it all down. Get thee beind me, Satan!

Best get out there then

Aye, I heard about Fat Wednesday, though I can't help feeling it's the product of a redbrick university research department with more time (and budget) than they reasonably deserve. Either that, or the brainchild of some marketing department somewhere joining in the modern trend of making such useless pronouncements for no other reason than to publicise their own range of products.

Funnily enough it coincided with the epicentre of my latest dieting initiative so for me at least, it isn't true. That said, it's a nice sunny early evening out there. Perfect for a pint or two in the village, no?

Hmm, those damn siren voices again....