(Actually my tum's been off since this morning when I took some antihistamine liquid for the leaf-mould sneezes and a gulp of codeine-laced cough syrup for the leaf-mould spasming cough and my insides gurgled mightily at the sugary combination. Beef would have been a really bad idea.)
Have been expecting for a week now to wake up some morning a kilo or so heavier, given indulgence in things like apple tart and Chinese dumplings, and it still hasn't happened. Could it be my little exercise bike? I doubt it, and the reason why is this: the new bike's chronometer comes on automatically when you start peddling and is currently set to show me my speed (btwn 10 and 12 somethings per hour but I have yet to ascertain if that's km or m; given that the instructions come in English and Dutch-of-all-things, I suspect the former) and calories burned. Half an hour got me just under 150 calories, which is hardly enough to undo the effects of pastry every other day. Also I suspect I have a Y chromosome somewhere in my makeup because I was transfixed by the little numbers changing all the time, and IME fascination with what the screen is showing is a male trait. Is why you need another woman in the maternity room who can keep her eyes off the fetal monitor readout. Yes I'm joking but only half.