Years ago, as a new and enthusiastic blogger, I sometimes posted several updates in a day. Twitter and Facebook have certainly taken over for this sort of spontaneous comment for most people – I’ve never become entirely engaged with Twitter because I’m not entirely sure what it’s for, as far as I’m concerned, but I quite like Facebook. My friends aren’t the sort of people who are rude about each other and the level of response to the things I write is pleasant.
Having said that, the last thing I wrote on Twitter has been retweeted several times – if I’d known it would be, I’d have worded it better, but never mind.
Anyway, I hadn’t felt much like cooking proper meals for the past couple of days. I make whatever Russell wants and we usually eat the same thing in the evening, but it’s rather changed. He’s rather gone off potatoes and other carbohydrate, except for Weetabix for breakfast, and I’m not bothered about that sort of thing for myself – if I want it, I’d rather cook a risotto or a baked potato and make that the basis of a meal – and sometimes, what he wants isn’t what I want. In addition, I still find it a bit hard to adjust to eating more than Russell does, which dampens the appetite, so it’s sometimes easier to be eating something different.
It’s oddly liberating, though, not feeling that I’m tied to making ‘proper’ meals. I tend to have a fairly balanced diet from choice – I love vegetables and I like variety, I can’t be doing with eating the same thing every day (except for Twiglets, which I ate for three meals straight, including breakfast, until the packet was empty) and I’ve a limited appetite for sweet foods. Though I reckon home-made cake as a proper food and not junk in the least. But, for the last couple of days, I’ve had a big globe artichoke with butter for lunch, whilst Russell has had toasted cheese. I have mostly skipped breakfast, but grab a handful of Twiglets, a hunk of cheese or a piece of cake if I’m hungry, or else pick a cucumber and share it with Edweena. The fridge is almost bare and I’ve stopped buying potatoes (R asked for some tonight, but it was the first time for a fortnight and I hadn’t bought any, having had to eat all the ones I’d previously bought, myself. I’ve given him toast instead). If anyone comes round and I feed them, I ask them if they could use the leftovers, because we will throw them out. It feels uncomplicated.
I mentioned this on Facebook, and Linda (our friend Zig) agreed with me – indeed, she feels I’m a complete amateur, having had stir-fried pork, onion, tiny broad beans from the garden and samphire last night, which is far too conventional a meal for her present tastes. Kit Kat and grapes are more the thing with her, with a nice squashy avocado on the side. Minimal washing up, no cooking, easy to eat, tasty.
The way I’m eating at present would always have suited me, I have gone down the conventional meal route to suit those I cook for. This is not to suggest that I don’t enjoy cooking and taking a lot of trouble over food -sometimes because it’s for other people, sometimes for myself, sometimes simply for the pleasure of creating a dish. But in forty-one years of marriage, I’ve very often cooked a meal I haven’t been very interested in making or eating, just because of the balanced diet and regular meal convention.