From the mouth of a three year old...

"How many times have I told you...."

I think I'm in trouble.

Hello,

My name's Vic, and I'm a compulsive overeater. Food addict if you like.

Every day is a battle, one that I'm losing. Miserably.

Everywhere I turn, there are people trying to sabotage my progress, threatening the fine balance between abstinence and giving in. Cakes, sweets, biscuits at work. There's not just birthdays to celebrate, but the return from a holiday, an anniversary, a target, the end of a meeting, a just because. And I am not in enough control of my addiction to steer clear. 'Just one' is expected, but with this disease there is no such thing as 'just one'. 'Just one' is the start of a slippery slope. One that I can't navigate or leave with ease. 'Just one' becomes another, and one more. Until that one more becomes complete loss of control. Until I'm back to day zero. To the day before the beginning of abstinence.

The daily walk to and from work becomes a plethora of opportunities for the next fix. Every step is a new struggle not to step into yet another food-selling establishment. From the aromas littering the street to the people handing out free samples, everywhere I turn someone or something is trying to break me.

If I can get through the lunch break I'm half way there but the witching hour is yet to come. That dangerous combination of tiredness and hunger that slowly build, peaking as I make my way home past the shops and through the station. It's here where I'm most likely to falter, to fall. Here where I'm most likely to give in to the sugar and carbohydrate laden snacks.

One small trigger and it begins. The craving, the need for food becomes unimaginable, the only thing driving me on. Everything, every step, every thought is focussed on what and how to get the next thing to pass my lips. Nothing, not even fullness, sickness can stop me.

So at home we have a list of, what I call, banned substances; a number of foods that will trigger off an attack, often just by being in the house. The usual suspects are there: crisps, chocolate, sweets, biscuits, and some slightly less normal ones: rottisserie chicken, cheese, sliced meat, bread (although not sliced). On the whole, Yuri is generally quite good about not getting these things. Not all the time, but enough to make sure I don't constantly feel surrounded. But, having invited a house guest, he forgot to impart the 'rules' to her.

On getting home last might I found chicken and sliced cheese (much worse than a block which you at least have to take the time to cut from). There were chocolate biscuits from the day before, more biscuits and two large tubs of cream from the day before, something was going to have to give.

We have C staying with us and Yuri invited G to stay for dinner. So I cooked. TB was making excuses not to stay in bed and when I asked Yuri to sort him, he wanted me to do it, whilst cooking, despite the fact that he was chatting on msn. When I announced that dinner was ready I received next to no response from either C or G, and certainly no effort to leave their respective computers to get their food. It was enough to make me snap.

And in a plastic bag ended up a can of condensed milk, a jar of chocolate spread, a packet of gummy sweets, two packets of chocolate wafer biscuits, a packet of rich teas, two large pots of cream, a box of sliced cheese, a rottisserie chicken, half a tin of roses and half am easter egg, all to be hidden or thrown away. Because get I don't know it's in the house, I don't have to cling to a pillow with all my strength to stop myself from reaching for it, I don't find myself scratching away at my skin because I'm so agitated knowing it's there. Because, if it's not threatening me, I don't have to take valium to calm me down enough to sleep.

This train is now approaching its final destination,

London Waterloo. However, it may be quicker to exit through the front of the train and walk along the tracks. This is because trains are not permitted to exceed 2 mph on this stretch of track.

South West Trains like to call it an emergency speed restriction. I (and undoubtedly many other commuters) prefer to call it 'you've had two days to fix the problem and still haven't managed it.'
And we still have another four days of it after today.

Our Sunday

It's too noisy!

Today I forgot my iPod and remembered one of the reasons I'm usually 'plugged in' for the duration of my journey.

The sniffing, the coughing, the talking on mobile phones. The mumbling and grumbling and too loud music players. The conversations, the slurping, the munching, the announcements. On second thoughts, no conceivable volume could cut through an announcement on a South West train.

And this is why I listen to my iPod on my journey. With noise cancelling headphones.

And today's date is...

On flicking through my blogroll this morning I was very confused to see
that one of the blogs I regularly ready had changed. Rather
dramatically. Yellow. It took me more than a few moments to realise
that the world hadn't turned upside down, the hackers hadn't broken in,
and everything will be back to normal by tomorrow morning.

Cinthia is supposed to be arriving this evening. I really hope that's
not an April fool.

And I just attempted to put hand cream in my coffee instead of
sweetener. That's how frazzled my brain is after the stress of the last
week.

Moving

In my desperation over my current employment situation, mum came up with a totally unexpected, and much appreciated, act of kindness. I now have the funding I need to start searching for another job, without worrying about the financial implications of leaving my current one.

First stop, buy a suit, and more importantly, convince my co-workers that I'm only attempting to smarten myself up.

Er, yeah... This could be more difficult than I thought.

Changes

Since the Easter break, I've noticed two changes in my journey to work.

Firstly, the annoying on-train announcements have reduced to those identifying the train and next station. Apparently South West Trains eradicated their problem with beggars over the Easter weekend, no longer see unattended articles as an issue and plan to do no more weekend engineering work. If it weren't for the other passengers, my journey would be incredibly peaceful.

Secondly, since they did works on the track over the weekend, the stretch between Clapham Junction and Vauxhall has become much more bumpy. A problem when this tends to be where you do your mascara!

Barbequing in the snow and a diamond ring.

Saturday saw Yuri's birthday party. We all trekked down to his mum's house in Kent to barbeque food in the freezing cold and generally eat too much. True to the forecast, it snowed, but instead of sending us running inside, we were huddled round the barbeque enjoying it's warmth. Unfortunately, though, it didn't settle, and just stayed cold, even when we'd long since gone inside.

Yesterday we drove up past Birmingham, to visit nan. We started off in the snow, which gradually gave way to greyness, and then sunshine. On the way home, TB decided that he absolutely loved Sherl Crow's song, diamond ring. After singing along once, we had to listen to the song on repeat from the M4 back to Wimbledon so the boy could sing along, and Yuri could screech. But it was so cute you couldn't hold it against them. Although I may never want to hear the song again.

Half a goat and a broiling chicken

This afternoon we took a trip to Peckham to get supplies for Yuri's birthday party (barbeque!) tomorrow. We among the large quantities of meat needed (because it is, after all, a Brasilian barbeque), we also needed mandoica (cassava). Try getting that in Wimbledon. Having lived in Wimbledon for the past two years (and Elephant for a year before that), Peckham is now a completely different world, albeit one I remember much more fondly now than I ever did when living there.

We started by getting rained on, then the sleet started. A huge shower of the stuff, which had be believing that if he rain would only stop, the snow would come at last. But that, is not our cultural education.

What I really miss about Peckham is the food shops. To be precise about it, the grocers and butchers. We managed to get guavas. In the past, I've only been able to find them in Church Street Market, and they're wrong. The outside is too light in colour and the inside is white. They just don't taste the same as the Brasilian ones which are darker on the outside and a deep pink on the inside.

Best of all, though, was our trip to the butchers we used to get all our meat from. We got chicken wings, chicken drumsticks and steak. On asking for a few bacgs of drumsticks, we were presented with a sack, being told that there were probably about 50 in it; more than enough to take tomorrow and chuck some in the freezer for later. The beef we chose looked big enough for two portions, and at £5, was a bit cheaper than the supermarket. We spent £18 in total.

TB loved it. The chickens hanging from the racks, heads still on. Half whole goats. Chicken feet. Cows feet. I'm sure if we'd gone into one shop we could've shown him a sheep's head. Fish of different colours and sizes, scales and stripes. A crab and still live electric eels. The entire trip fascinated him.

When we got home, I cut up the beef, only to find enough for six steaks and some chunks. On opening the sack of drumsticks, it appeared that there were rather more than 50. I took the time to count them. 109.

Then I checked on the online supermarket. That little lot would've cost the best part of £50 from Tesco. I feel we've had a successful afternoon.