Every so often I find that I am having an "eating" day.
I weighed myself this morning; I do so most days, the reason being that although I am on low-dose steroids, I am well aware that they can make you put on weight. I've seen the truly awesomely awful consequences of this in the hospital clinics. I gather that it's not the steroids themselves that make you get fat, it's the effect they have on your appetite.
So, today, I eyed up the scales and thought uh-oh, no cake today. Stop the slide before it starts.
Which went very well - no cake, biscuits or croissant when I had coffee with my father. No extra nibbles at lunchtime.
But then it got to tea time - and in short order I munched both a packet of mixed nuts and a portion of little oat-cakes with onion marmalade from last week's grazebox. It was only the arrival of a series of piano pupils that stopped me from making porridge and toast... that was a near thing indeed.
When a plate of cake arrived in front of my nose later this evening, I ate it all up without a second thought. Deeelicious.
I can only hope that all the activity this morning (ironing, cleaning the bathroom and loo, two loads through the washing machine, shopping, putting petrol in the car, collecting forms from the doctor, picking up a prescription, going to the bank), and then teaching a determined and vigorous djembe lesson to forty - let's call them "lively" - children this afternoon will have gone some way to using up these calories.
There's still some cake left in the tin, and this week's grazebox dropped through the letterbox this morning with all these lovely goodies inside - oh dear...