Sunday, 10 February 2013

To feel keenly the poetry of a morning's roses, one has to have just escaped from the claws of this vulture which we call sickness.

Henri Frederic Amiel


No poetry of a morning's roses for me, yesterday. Absolutely self-inflicted. And serves me jolly well right.

Gripped by the claws of this vulture which we call sickness.


It has served its purpose though.

Today, we're off out for Sunday lunch (it being Sunday!) with friends. After that - well, tomorrow because I need to get the right ingredients in - I'm going on a one week Detox and Vitality Diet making use of my trusty juicer. (Why oh WHY has it been designed in a way that makes cleaning it such a PAIN?)

I'm announcing it here so I won't chicken out. Unintentional pun. No chicken allowed.

This will be me in seven days time.

Maybe.