I've just finished the last piece of my Christmas cake, it was very nice. This was the first year that I'd ever made a Christmas cake - or any cake for that matter - and I ended up making two. I guess it's fitting that the final piece of cake is finished on 6th night. It's a symbolic end to the festive period along with the putting away of the decs (and associated pulled back as I try to shift heavy furniture to gain access to the loft).
Of course the end of the festivities also signals the need to get my lardy arse back to Fat Fighters in an attempt to shed the flab that appeared out of nowhere over the past couple of weeks. When I say "appeared out of nowhere", I actually mean it appeared from: 2 Christmas dinners; Christmas pud; panettone and other Christmas cake; kilos of salty snacks; pounds of chocolates and about 40 sausages of varying flavours that were knocking about (albeit briefly) at the Boxing Day running buffet. Not to mention the general overeating associated with December - all done with the "It's Christmas" justification - and general lethargy that comes from mid-winter.
I actually went to the gym the other night and it almost killed me; I only managed 2.5km running (that's about a mile and a half). Awful.
These weblogs are a bit weird because you never know how much to information to inflict on an unsuspecting (and probably non-existent) audience. Then again, I hope I'm protected by near anonymity and, amongst those who know me, only people I choose to tell will get to know about this. I can't figure out why it doesn't get a hit when I do a Google search for it though. It's probably for the best...
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