Tuesday, 20 June 2006

Fruitless

Was my search for dried figs at Woolworths this lunch time. Not one to be found and I could not be bothered walking to the David Jones’ food hall for the joy of finding fig and shelling out an outrageous sum, no matter how efficient the ticketing system has become.

The search for dried figs was necessitated by a change in my palate, it's become positively puerile and I’ve developed a sweet tooth. Fear not NSRs I’m not gonna start simpering about cravings for chocky wocky, just sugar in general. I must confess greedy old bel could quite easily devour a cream bun, a honey jumble or even scotch finger, well actually all three if they were offered right now.

While am renowned for many things, 65% of which are probably quite unfavourable, a sweet tooth has never been one of them. Don't get me wrong, I do love a bun, a biscuit and relish a self-saucing pud, but generally not every day. That is until I stopped having my daily snifter of medium sweet dry sherrrrry while cooking dins followed by a a glass or two of wine with dins.

A friend once merrily observed, while sucking on a tube, how kiddies went so beserk about sweets and cakes and that us adults didn't as we got all the sugar we needed from our alcohol.

But without the daily tipple I don't, and at this rate I’ll have to start worrying about my interesting factor levels an’all. I guess I could do Toastmasters, oh, but that would require a tipple and muck up my important health project which bans imbibing at home during the working week. Perhaps i should just go out every night.

Oh what a to do. And the sugar buzz from biscuits and kyke, while fuelling an enjoyable frenzy, the sight and sound of a group of 5 or more people proceeding down the street has been known to thrill one beyond reason, Mistress Bel Petersen, is unfortunately followed 30 minutes later with a rather nasty thud and feeling of exhaustion. And frankly a daily intake of kyke and buns would probably give me diabetes and counteract the entire point of this new health project.
So I’ve opted for the dried figs - ever since Cyclone Tracy bananas have become soooo expensive. Figs are sweet. Figs are crammed not to mention jam packed with fibre and nature’s goodness. Figs extend your life by 50 years and are economical.

And to think I’d been lamenting how dull Neighbours had become.

2 comments:

David said...

That's Cyclone Tracee to you.

Mistress Bel said...

ha ha. I wish i'd thought of that.