Papercats – a story

Once there was a boy called Tom, and he lived in a world of paper.

Of course it wasn’t literally paper. He had a house, with broad stone walls, a scarred wooden table and a cold kitchen and warm bedroom – a sure sign of someone who spends too much time in their own head. Tom didn’t have a family and he didn’t have friends. Instead, Tom had paper.

Throughout the day and long into the night, Tom made things out of paper. He made animals and plants, buildings and landscapes. He crafted bridges and bred dinosaurs. He built people and sat them around tiny paper plates, cups and saucers. But at the end of every day, Tom would examine his work sadly and realise that something was missing. Perhaps a crease was messy or there was a smear on the crisp white card. And, sadly, Tom would crumple the paper figures up in his hand, stack his paper neatly at the edge of the table and shuffle slowly up the stairs to bed, where he would sleep badly.

Day after day, night after night, Tom worked steadily on his paper world. And day after day, night after night, he went up to bed disappointed. Until the night that Tom ran out of ideas.

He sat at the table, frustrated and dismayed. He had never before been stuck for inspiration, but this time it seemed like he’d already made everything there was to be made. His hands started to itch to fold paper, but his brain didn’t know what shape the paper should take.

IMG_0328Finally, he lifted a sheet, turned it over in his hands, and eventually started to work. He realised that among the many animals he had made – weasels, parakeets, dogs, frogs, zebras – he’d never made a cat. And that’s what he was going to try to make now.

When the cat was finished, Tom looked it carefully. This cat would never do. Its left ear was too small, and its tail a stubby mess. Immediately, Tom crushed the cat in his fingers and started again.

The second cat was better than the first, but still – it simply wasn’t right. There was a smear on the right haunch, and the head was at a funny angle. Usually Tom would simply move on to the next thing; in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even given anything a second chance. And now, as he feverishly grabbed another sheet of paper, he was trying for the third time.

Tom set to work. Piece after folding piece, crease after folding crease, the cat began to take shape. His hair began to fall into his eyes, the cold chill in the kitchen crept up around his shoulders and his fingers began to feel stiff and sore, but still he went on. At last, the final fold was in place, and he gently set the cat on the table and eased down his aching shoulders, staring at the paper pet.

This attempt was….

Perfect.

Tom sat back, confused. He could not find a single fault with the cat. It sat upright on its haunches, a neatly proportioned tail curled around to the side. Its head was tilted with a curious expression, its ears were pointed and perky, and the curve of its back was smooth and blemish free.

Tom slowly rose from his chair. He stacked the paper neatly on the table, never taking his eyes off the cat, and then turned his back and walked up the stairs to bed.

In the gloomy, cold kitchen, nothing moved. Until the cat suddenly yawned, stretched and wandered off into the darkness. It was hungry, and thirsty, and bored. It sniffed at the paper stack, and tasted the edge of a sheet. It jumped down off the table, and chased dust across the floor. It clambered up to the sink and tried to lick droplets from the tap, but this made its muzzle soggy so it edged to the lukewarm radiator and stayed there a while, trying to dry its nose.

Upstairs, Tom was having the worst night’s sleep he’d ever had. In fact, since every time he was about to drop off he jerked back awake, sure he could hear clattering and banging in the empty kitchen, he couldn’t even really call it a night’s sleep at all.

Finally, he gave up and made his way downstairs. Everything was exactly as he left it. Well, almost. In the middle of the table, where he’d left the cat, was… nothing.

Tom looked on the floor, in case the cat had somehow blown over. There was nothing there. He crawled under the table. Nothing there either. He lifted the stack of paper, even though it was flush to the table top. Nothing at all. But the edge of the topmost sheet was strangely frayed.

Finally, Tom sat down, placed the damaged sheet aside, and began to make another cat. And it was just as perfect as the first.

After staring at the new cat for a long while, Tom once again left it in the centre of the table and went up to bed. And this time, for the first time, Tom drifted off almost immediately into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

The cats met in the middle of the table, approaching each other cautiously and then circling around and around. Then they began to explore.

Eventually, they came back to the pile of paper. They looked at the stack, then looked at each other. Their noses quivered. Together, they turned to look out of the window, where the moon was still high in the sky. And then they turned back to the stack.

The sun was burning brightly by the time Tom woke in his bed. He felt rested, and that in itself was strange, since he never usually felt rested. He felt calm. He felt happy. He felt… hungry.

Tom got up, went to the bathroom, got dressed. He stood at the top of the stairs and stretched. Then he shuffled downstairs to the kitchen, where he stopped in the doorway, stunned.

Every inch of every surface was jammed full of paper cats. They crowded the floor. They cluttered the ceiling lights. They clustered on the chairs. The table. The worktops. The sink – apart from a space around the plughole, where the cats seemed to be edging away from the drips.

Once there was a boy called Tom, and he lived in a world of paper.

Of course it wasn’t literally paper. He had a house, with broad stone walls, a scarred wooden table and a warm kitchen. Tom had family, and Tom had friends. And every one of them was a perfect paper cat.

A little background: As a result of my #100forchildsi sketching, a few stories to accompany my scrawls began to grow in my head. One of them was just a single image, and I drew it once in pencil and once painted – that’s it above. I hoped to next try a plain ink version… it’s never been quite right. Anyway. It was never intended to be more than just a single image, but then Ramona invented a game where we each had to tell a story, and they were becoming increasingly outlandish. Eventually, this image popped into my head and as we were walking through town, crowds milling around us, she held my hand and listened carefully to the story of Tom and his paper friends. If my 100 days of artwork taught me anything, it’s that an unrefined bird released to the winds is worth two fully-polished articles in your head, so I thought better to commit it to screen, faults and all, than to keep replaying it in my head and watching the colours dim each time I failed to do anything more with it. And besides, Ramona might ask me to tell it again.

I am Squarehead – Simon Frank and Margit Mulder

I am Squarehead book coverIt’s always awkward writing about something created by people you know. For the full record, Simon Frank is someone I’ve known for a fairly long while as part of former third sector agency Beautiful World; furthermore, my graphic designer husband Ashley was employed by them and still works with Simon on occasion at Bats in Belfries.

None of that, however, is why I’m writing this blog post (and I certainly wasn’t asked to). While I admire I am Squarehead greatly, I wouldn’t have decided to put my thoughts out there if my daughter hadn’t recently fallen in love with it after being given a copy by our friend, and Simon’s business partner, the inimitable Rochelle Dancel.

The thing is, it’s actually really difficult to get Ramona to like anything. Sure, parents can influence, show approval or outright ban stuff. But that doesn’t always come to much; both Ash and I absolutely love Jon Klassen’s beautiful and wickedly brilliant I Want My Hat Back but Ramona has gone from being gut-wrenchingly terrified of it to merely being deeply suspicious of it. Also, I swear she can sense enthusiasm and just says no to wind us up sometimes. Some books she has never taken to, or been scared of – Mog in the Fog, Edwina the Emu – others she has loved instantly – all the other Meg and Mog books, Possum Magic, The Day the Crayons Quit . Still others she has suddenly flipped from hating to loving, dependent on God knows what – like We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. So for her to so quickly, passionately love a book with a deliberately scary moment in it – albeit one that is quickly turned on its head – is something we always find worthy of note.

See, Ramona is definitely a kid who does some round thinking in a square world – just like Squarehead, who has to leave town and make some friends who also don’t fit the spaces they’re being forced into before coming back to change things for the better for everyone. She’s always been immensely good at dealing with the things that I know often throw kids for a loop – changing nurseries, starting school, moving into a big girl bed – but she can also find some apparently innocuous things very hard. Sometimes this has included introducing new books, where she is very wary of scary moments. School, where she burned through the reading scheme and is now allowed to choose books written for kids two or three years older than her and reads them mostly independently, has really helped with this as her confidence is constantly climbing and she changes books almost daily. Still, she’s one of nature’s overthinkers (can’t imagine where she gets it from).

The thing is that, as Squarehead points out, once you’ve had a thought, you can’t unthink it. But, as Squarehead discovers, you can sometimes be accosted by something you think is utterly terrifying, only for it to turn out to be something you love very much.

I don’t know whether I am Squarehead appeals to Ramona because she sees herself in it at some level, as I do. I don’t know whether she just likes the idea of a story written by someone Mummy and Daddy know (Simon has since signed it, and now she reads the dedication aloud to me). I don’t know if she’s just charmed by Margit Mulder’s deceptively simple illustrations – my personal favourite is the bathtub with square bubbles. Maybe it’s all of those or something else entirely. Whatever it is, it just seemed so perfect to me that I wanted to record this moment; too soon she’ll abandon this and move on to the next thing. For now, awkwardness aside, this is a snapshot I wanted to keep.

Italian afternoon tea at The Pelham’s Bistro Fifteen

IMG_4030An afternoon tea review right after my last three million posts about giving up sugar? What can I say? I like to keep you on your toes. The fact is, I do consider myself to have given up regular sugar permanently, but I’m still open to special occasions. And such a one was a weekend break of fun with a good friend, which included cashing in a Time Out deal for a special Italian twist on afternoon tea at the Pelham.

My friend, K, had been here before for a post-Christmas detox tea, so it seems themed teas are a regular occurrence. The listed value for the afternoon tea in question was £60 for two, similar to the usual Champagne Afternoon Tea, but we paid about half that through the deals site. The setting is the very pretty, tastefully retro Bistro Fifteen, complete with striped wallpaper, mint green chairs, a library corner and dotty Laura Ashley teacups.

IMG_4028The deal included the near obligatory glass of prosecco, which we duly sipped at happily. The server was a bit out of sorts, I think, as she just asked ‘what would you like, English breakfast or Earl Grey?’ and it was only on asking if there were other options that it turned out there was a whole tea menu.

The teas are provided by Camellia’s Tea House – do visit the one in Kingly Court if you can – and included infuriating titles such as Skinny Bitch (ugh!) alongside much more appealing options such as White Peony and a classic white jasmine – no oolong though, more’s the pity.

IMG_4031I opted for the White Peony, and K had Beautiful Skin, a greener infusion of dandelion, chickweed and other vaguely mint-scented options. The server then brought the food and dashed off without telling us what was on it, but we quickly worked out most of it and then eavesdropped on our neighbours to work out the rest.

At base were two sizeable and filling prosciutto-stuffed ciabatta rolls, a strange but tasty fried, lemony raviolo of some sort each and four warm, flaky, raisin-studded scones topped with a drippy glaze of marmalade and a garnish of pistachio powder. Clotted cream and jam were provided too, tucked alongside what was described to the neighbouring table as a mango macaron (but tasted for all the world like orange – either way it was chewy and delicious), a tiny chocolate cup filled with custard and topped with a blueberry and a raspberry and a small, super sweet white and milk chocolate pot. Finally there was a spiced biscuit each and beautifully bitter chocolate biscotti.

Though most things looked small and delicate, the scones were extremely filling and the biscotti generously sized and rich, so by the end we were seriously stuffed. Topping up hot water for a second round of tea, we relaxed in the very pretty and relaxed surroundings, surprising November sunshine peering in through the basement windows from the South Kensington street outside. It was lovely to then stroll over to the V&A, my favourite place in London and somewhere K had never been.

K would still be glad to go back to the Pelham again after her second visit, and I was certainly impressed and would be interested to see what other twists on a classic theme they might offer. I’m not sure I’d be too keen to splash out the full amount for a regular afternoon tea, as it is rather a lot even without fizz (£24.50 per person), but the plain cream tea of scones and tea at £10.50 would be worth it for the setting.

Nothing to declare here as everything was paid for by us as stated – simply writing it up because it was fun and I enjoyed it. 

I Quit Sugar: Thoughts from the end of the 8-week programme

After the half-way point and the week seven screw-up, I’ve had a bit of a chance to examine how I feel about IQS in general and whether or not I think it’s a) worthwhile and b) something I’ll be able to keep up indefinitely – since it is supposed to be a sort of ‘reset’ leading to permanent liberation from sugar binge cycles.

I’ve found it, largely, to be extremely beneficial. There are some caveats and watch-outs that I’ll list below, but on the whole I’ve found that mostly good things have come out of it. Such as:

  • Increased energy (eventually – I did have a two week sluggish dip in the middle)
  • Improved skin
  • A lower susceptibility to bingeing / bloating
  • Fewer sweet cravings (I still turn into a carb addict come Lady Week though I can usually stave it off with cheese and oatcakes – soz for the TMI)
  • More veg cravings (I always liked them but now I actively crave greens if I don’t get them)
  • Rediscovering how sweet certain things – especially fruit – really are (does wonders for your appreciation of them!)

I’ve also lost around 12-14lbs, which has levelled off and stayed stable for a week or two, suggesting that this weight is more or less my natural setpoint. I was aiming for better health, but I’m not going to argue if nature wants me to fit my clothes better. I do still need to work on fitness, but I am walking more than I used to.

On the whole, approached as a programme that is about resetting attitudes rather than going on a mad health purge, it’s a really handy way of structuring a fresh approach to food, and getting into healthier habits. I’ve struggled for years to ‘listen to my body’ and I’m still not 100% there, but without the influence of shedloads of sugar – and I was eating a LOT – I find it a hell of a lot easier than I did. Since completing the 8 weeks I’ve added back 1-2 helpings of fruit per day, usually lower fructose choices like berries, but they’re my favourites anyway; I also nibble on fairly regular infusions of 80-100% dark chocolate and it’s all felt very manageable. I continue to track what I eat out of curiosity, and I can still see patterns of more and less disordered eating here and there (the female reproductive cycle has a lot to answer for), but on the whole I’ve levelled out at around 25-30 grams of sugar a day, and that seems to leave me in a happy place. I had a slice of my daughter’s birthday cake and all was well – and I didn’t want more than a little bit. That was the place I wanted to arrive at, and I’m happy with it.

Now for the caveats.

  • Sarah WIlson touches on it in the book, but fat really can be a problem. I think I’m pretty much convinced that there’s nothing bad about fat in general and I’ve made my peace with eating more of it without that automatic feeling of guilt but there is such a thing as too much of a good thing; a few almonds = a good snack, an entire pack of almonds = unnecessary. Now, I refuse to be pejorative about food or eating, and I won’t say that it’s a case of ‘good’ vs ‘bad’, but I do know that there’s such a thing as ‘enough for me’ vs ‘too much for me’. And it’s very easy to blur that line when you’re crowding out sugar with fat. So it’s something to watch out for.
  • As a manifesto, the book has flaws. Some of the science is a bit woolly, the (meaningless) word ‘detox’ pops up and there is the inevitable cherry picking of data to support a particular view (and make the book readable, to be fair). I would have liked to have seen a twice as long introductory sector looking into this in more detail. The fact is, I already wanted off (most) sugar, because I find when I increase the amount I eat, I eat more stuff I don’t really want to and feel emotionally and physically crappy. But I missed the detail and delving of something more comprehensive like HAES.
  • The other thing to watch out for is unrealistic expectations. Wilson is careful not to make any specific health claims, and simply talks about how the knock on effect of her new approach to eating has appeared to improve her thyroid condition, but be wary of assuming that going low sugar will fix everything. If your symptoms improve, then that’s excellent, and at the very least I can’t imagine that putting a bit less crap into the body could be actively harmful. But don’t fall into the magical thinking trap.
  • Although the posters scream “lose weight”, it’s actually (rightly, in my opinion), a very small part of what’s touched on in the book. Wilson basically says some people lose a bit of weight, some people lose quite a lot – ie YMMV. Feeling altogether better is the aim here, not setting any weight or body targets.

This is probably the last I’m going to post about this, apart from if I share a suitable recipe, cos genuinely I think it all gets to be a bit dull and repetitive if all you do is evangelise about some food fad or other. I know that some people asked for an update after the 8 week point, so here’s what I’ve found overall, and I’m really happy to answer any questions here or on Twitter. 

 

I Quit Sugar: What happens when you inevitably* screw up.

Before I began the IQS programme, I had afternoon tea booked with a friend for a couple of months down the line. It actually fell in week seven of the programme – around the time a certain amount of sugar, or at least sweetness, creeps back in, but before you’ve really completed the programme.

Now, I know you’re thinking “well, that’ll have been the screw up, then”. But actually it wasn’t. I found myself pleasantly and comfortably controlled on the day – except it wasn’t a case of control but just calmly allowing my body to decide what it was comfortable with. I ate scones, but with a little scrape of jam because more than that didn’t taste that good anymore. I ate half each of three little pastries but then I just felt like I was done. I had half my glass of prosecco because it was too hot to drink any more.

I’ve got to say, I felt pretty smug. It was like everything everyone says about moderation had totally clicked but, more than that, I had gone in with the attitude that I wasn’t going to be restrained or say “I shouldn’t”. I was going to go in and have exactly what I wanted. And by giving myself full permission to do that, I didn’t feel the need to overindulge.

Flushed by my success, I went back to normal eating the following day. And then work book club hit, and suddenly wine and orange juice and crisps and sweet popcorn and fizzy cola bottles and jelly beans were all within a foot of me. And for the first time in weeks they seemed appealing. And I went for it. Spectacularly.

Within the hour, the following symptoms appeared:

  • Itchy, hot skin
  • Jitters / shakes (not the visible kind)
  • Headache

Overnight, I experienced:

  • Poor sleep
  • Anxious thoughts (you know, the 3am type. At 3am.)

The morning I felt:

  • Bloated and rough with a skin flare up.

 

Now, there might of course be other reasons for some of these. While I had very little wine, alcohol does have an effect on sleep so that could be a contributing factor. We’ve had a bit of familial upheaval recently with schools and whatnot – not negative, but stressful. It might or might not be related to things that happen to women on a lunar basis. Hell, there could well be a psychosomatic element. But it seemed thoroughly too coincidental by half that all these symptoms appeared suddenly, en masse, on the night after I chose to gorge on something I’ve been avoiding for weeks.

I do wonder how it is I fell into the trap in the first place – trying to be sociable? Lady cravings? Overconfidence in my new found ability to say no? – but from discussing it with one of my friends it seems she did the same: ate sugar, felt bad, regretted it, got back on the wagon. Lather, rinse, repeat until the message sinks in. And certainly Sarah Wilson talks a lot about ‘lapsing’ (which, as she says, is not a lapse but just an experiment to see if you really want to continue eating sugar). After my experience, I’m not in a hurry to repeat my test, and I’ve been ‘crowding out’ with fats and veggies today to try and stave off the inevitable sugar hangover cravings.

I present this not really as evidence of anything expect my own experience, so do take from it what you will. It’s convinced me to get back on track, but then I’m the only person I have to convince…

*By which I mean when I inevitably screw up. Your mileage may vary, and your engine may be better tuned. But if you were all that brilliant, you wouldn’t be reading about quittin’ sugar, cos you’d have done it already so ha! Now we’re rubbish human together. Group hug!

I Quit Sugar: a few questions and misconceptions addressed

It was nice to get a little flurry of comments after my last post, in which I explained my having hopped aboard the I Quit Sugar bandwagon. A few comments and questions came out of that that I thought I would address for anyone considering taking part but feeling scared to*.

1. I can’t give up carbs!

Great, you don’t have to! I’ve eaten bread, pasta, noodles, rice (and rice crackers) and sundry other carbs throughout. While watching sugar will naturally reduce the amount of carbs you have overall, fructose is the only thing you’re really watching for. If you have had an indulgent day and want to get yourself back on track it can be helpful to also cut out grains for a day. Plus many of the carb-based recipes that are included are GF or paleo or reduced grain, because this also reduces sugars and increases fats. But it’s primarily not a low-carb diet.

2. I could just rule out processed sugar and have natural sugars…

Yeah, at least for me, for this shiz to work, I had to nix all sources of fructose, including fruit, for the cold turkey part of the programme. Otherwise I find that the cravings are just as severe – and now that I’ve started including the odd helping of fruit here and there I notice it immediately. Sarah Wilson specifically talks about reintroducing – and not demonsing – fruit but keeping it to no more than about two portions a day. This actually chimes with general health advice to get the bulk of your five (or eight, or whatever) a day from vegetables.

3. I couldn’t give up the occasional glass of wine.

You don’t have to do that either. I’ve had a glass here and there throughout (though I’ve found my inclination to drink has taken a nosedive and I’ll just have one drink – or even half – when I do). Wine is actually low-fructose, as are some spirits provided you stick to no-sugar mixers.

I actually had my first bite of dessert the other day at a family lunch, though technically I shouldn’t have for another two weeks. It was one of my favourite kinds of things, and I took a spoonful gladly. And then, having tasted it, I didn’t want any more. I tried one other mouthful – of something else I like but rarely get to eat – and that was quite enough too. It sated my desire for sweetness and being sociable, and then I was done. And, in fact, the next day I felt a bit snacky and substantially bloated, so I wasn’t in any vast hurry to try again.

This doesn’t sound so incredible unless you consider that prior to this I had virtually no impulse control when it came to sweet treats. I texted my friend who got me on the programme with the words “IS THIS HOW NORMAL PEOPLE EAT?!”. It feels really weird to see longer gaps appearing between meals, less snacking, fewer cravings and no propensity to eat until painfully stuffed.

I’m into week six now. I look forward to regrouping at the end of week eight and sharing my thoughts, observations and tips. But so far, so amazingly freakin’ good.

*Why are we so scared of this stuff? Me included! We want to cling to our routines like they’re the only possible way to live, even when they’re hurting us. Ah, humans.

I Quit Sugar: my thoughts from the half-way point

Suddenly, I Quit Sugar is everywhere. Tube ads, articles… maybe I’m just noticing it more because I’m following the programme, but it does seem that it’s the new kid on the food fad block.

I actually didn’t come to it through any of the marketing, but through a very good friend who tried it. I wasn’t immediately convinced, but recognised that I do suffer from poor impulse control and tendencies to binge when around sugary foods – including fruit.

Still, I had questions. For example:

  • Isn’t fruit sugar good sugar, as long as you eat the whole fruit? (We all know that thing about fruit juice being high sugar without the fibre, right?)
  • Isn’t it magical thinking to claim that quitting sugar will be the answer to various health woes?
  • How is it even possible to live without sugar?
  • Isn’t it rather difficult for anyone on a restricted income to carry out this kind of diet?

So, I thought the best thing to do was read the book, and once I’d done that I was happy to try the programme. Sarah Wilson’s story is necessarily personal, but she does draw on actual research to make her case – and certainly there is something disturbing about the massive volumes of sugar we consume on a daily basis. I also have PCOS, which goes hand in hand with insulin resistance, and a close relative with Type II diabetes. So, no matter what, I needed to reduce my sugar intake, and if starting out by going (more or less) cold turkey on fructose – the only kind of sugar Wilson really sets her sights on – was the way to do it, then I was going to give it a try.

I’m now into my fifth week of an eight week programme, and in that time I’ve had no chocolate, cake, biscuits, table sugar, added-sugar drinks or sweetened processed foods. I’ve had very limited fruit intake, but substantially larger vegetable intake (and I was no salad-avoider before this). Once in a while I have looked lingeringly on a dessert and sometimes I’ve overdosed on fat instead (hellloooo, cheese!), but mostly I’ve kept to an unprocessed, whole food heavy diet. And, to be honest, it’s not been that difficult – once you step off the sugar rollercoaster, it does become easier to resist it.

Here’s what I’ve found so far:

  • The book and programme themselves are actually very non-specific. Apart from stating things to avoid (and the real cold turkey phase doesn’t hit until about week 3), there are no meal plans. There’s no insistence on what you should eat, but shedloads of recipes that could help. I feel much closer to following a Health at Every Size type approach, because I’m choosing my food mainly based on what tastes good and appeals to me.
  • Some of the suggestions I have simply ignored. I don’t judge anyone who wants to follow Wilson’s advice to beat sugar cravings with a spoonful of coconut oil straight from the jar, but I can’t say I find any delight in the thought of downing something the consistency of petroleum jelly. I like some coconut milk based meals but I’m not that big a fan, so I’ve had to adapt. I simply cannot stomach porridge made with 125ml of coconut milk and use less than half of that per bowl of pumpkin porridge, upping the pumpkin content instead. It means I’m full for a bit less long, but I actually couldn’t finish the first bowl when I made it to the recipe. I also leave off the toasted coconut flakes – too much!
  • There are times when the science gets woolly and that annoys me and makes me question the overall methodology; while it’s true that there might well be some physical symptoms that reflect the adjustment from one diet to another (I’ve experienced some myself), suggesting that this is ‘toxins leaving the body’ sounds, frankly, a bit woo for my liking. On one occasion where I had a meal out and likely ate some sugary sauces, I did find my digestive system reacting negatively.
  • I have lost some weight, presumably because when you replace sugar with fats you feel full faster and therefore eat less overall. Out of curiosity, I’ve been on and off tracking what I ate, and my caloric intake is definitely lower than usual even though I’ve been making no effort to restrict it, or even looking at how many calories anything contains.
  • Over time, sugary foods start to look less appealing. Some restaurant desserts were harder to resist because they’re so beautifully made and really nice chocolate and / or ice cream will probably never stop being appealing, at least to me. But when you’ve committed to low sugar, breaking that promise to yourself means you feel like it had better be worth it – and be the best confection you can get your hands on.
  • It IS expensive – the fact that I reference unprocessed whole foods and restaurant meals should indicate that. I reject the term ‘clean eating’ on several counts; firstly, when a phrase means something different to each person who uses it, it means nothing to anyone, and secondly the implication that anyone not eating like me is ‘dirty’ is pretty obnoxious. There are times when this programme seems as exclusive as so-called ‘clean eating’. No, it’s not impossible to follow on a lower budget, and the slow cooker book in particular will help with batch cooking and family meals. Still, it would be a lot more effort – effort I can’t imagine it would always be a priority to make. So I recognise that to be able to carry this out is a pretty privileged activity.

I still don’t have the answers to all my questions. I’m now more or less convinced that fruit intake is fine provided it’s kept to two small servings per day, but that fructose in general does have strange body effects (I’ve always wondered, for example, why bananas are supposed to be filling when they make me ravenously hungry, and the high fructose content does explain that). I recognise that yes, it is tricky to do this on a restricted income but no, it’s not impossible to keep sugar intake to a reasonable level all other things being equal. The jury is still very much out on the health conditions; while diet clearly can impact, and help prevent, various conditions, I think it’s unquestionably risky to claim that giving up or eating a particular foodstuff is going to be the Solution To All Health Woes. So I choose to continue taking that particular claim with a large pinch of salt.

It will be interesting to see what happens after the eight weeks, and whether the habit really is broken for life – particularly as Wilson does advocate testing yourself afterwards by trying out sugary foods. I can but report back in a few weeks…