Post Christmas Limbo

So how are we all? Do you know what day of the week it is yet? Was Santa kind? Are you currently eating Toblerone in your pants?

We’re in the desolate wasteland between Christmas and New Year, where you’re a little fatter, time and date means nothing, and if you allow your mind to wander slightly your chubby fingers are reaching involuntarily for the Christmas cake….

Sound familiar?

We’re lucky that this time of year is punctuated by our wedding anniversary, so it gives us a little focus. The need to have a wash, remove all traces of Stilton from your hair and be at a dinner reservation for a certain time restores some sense of purpose.

We had a lovely dinner last night at Kendells, a twinkly candle lit Leeds institution, and the go-to place if you want to be as French as possible (because you can’t actually be in France).

Couple of complimentary glasses of fizz to start, which was lovely, then boudin noir with apple and confit onions, ham hock cassoulet for Craig, venison in a bitter chocolate sauce for me, and pudding was pear frangipan tarte and a chocolate mousse followed by a glass of Armagnac. All quite splendid. Special mention to the duck fat potatos. I may love them.

We’ve had a brilliant Christmas, spent down in Wales with Pops. We explored Dylan Thomas country, had lovely beachy dog walks, and were thoroughly spoilt in the food department. We made a great Thai green curry with the leftover turkey when we got home, and I even made pancakes yesterday so I could eat the tray of chestnut stuffing blathered in gravy. Why does nothing fit me anymore?

Never fear, because Joyless January beckons. The month where we’re both giving up meat and booze, and I start the Bodyboss programme. For the uninitiated this is an excercise programe that promises results in 20 mins a day. Little did I know that as I am excercise averse (ahem) this means I need to do a 4 week pre-exercise excercise regime, to prepare me for the 12 week actual excercise excercise regime. With me so far? For someone that thinks “a plank” is a derogatory term for the less than intelligent this is going to suck!!

Perhaps in 16 glorious weeks I’ll be one of those Lycra clad nymphs that like to post gymn selfies of their abs (snort). If that ever happens the next photo will be of me punching myself hard in the face.

I should also do a dedicated blog post on the joy of dehydrating things in my new kitchen toy. I hoovered a full tray of bourbon beef jerky while watching the Gilmore Girls a couple of days ago. You’re quietly judging me now aren’t you?


Boudin noir, venison in chocolate sauce and very pretty puddings.
A little French enclave in the heart of Yorkshire.

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