Whoops. I've accidentally become Spanish in a few days.
I came down for breakfast at 11.30am, looked around for my magdelenas and milk, and like a very saintly Spanish child, commenced dunking. I then brushed my teeth. Did you know the Spanish brush their teeth after each meal? Well, you do now. I suppose you have to dig out all that chorizo somehow.
We also then sit around doing nothing until 3/4pm when we might think about some chorizo spaghetti for lunch. Have a brief swim then have some more magdalenas and milk, and perhaps a fatty meat sandwich at six. Another bit of sitting chatting (ok fine I sit there looking bemused as I only know five words), ice coffee this time.
But along with this I think I've put on about three stone. As much as I like to imagine that I look like an Enid Blyton character who spent 2 months convalescing from whooping cough in the fresh air of a dairy farm, i.e. bonny, I think in reality I look like a Spanish Grandma.
I suppose no wonder when I eat magdelenas swimming in milk at least three times a day, and only do a touch of sport with the boys when Ana tells us off for watching too much tv.
The score in our dodge ball games is frequently, Javier and Miguel 100, Frances 3. I think that tells you how little I bother to haulk my body across the pitch..
But, the thing is that my evening sickness is abating, so i'm pretty sure that is what Spanish ladies use these fat reserves for. It all makes sense. How else could you go from 4pm until midnight without eating unless your heart eats up your existing flesh for energy?
I came down for breakfast at 11.30am, looked around for my magdelenas and milk, and like a very saintly Spanish child, commenced dunking. I then brushed my teeth. Did you know the Spanish brush their teeth after each meal? Well, you do now. I suppose you have to dig out all that chorizo somehow.
We also then sit around doing nothing until 3/4pm when we might think about some chorizo spaghetti for lunch. Have a brief swim then have some more magdalenas and milk, and perhaps a fatty meat sandwich at six. Another bit of sitting chatting (ok fine I sit there looking bemused as I only know five words), ice coffee this time.
But along with this I think I've put on about three stone. As much as I like to imagine that I look like an Enid Blyton character who spent 2 months convalescing from whooping cough in the fresh air of a dairy farm, i.e. bonny, I think in reality I look like a Spanish Grandma.
I suppose no wonder when I eat magdelenas swimming in milk at least three times a day, and only do a touch of sport with the boys when Ana tells us off for watching too much tv.
The score in our dodge ball games is frequently, Javier and Miguel 100, Frances 3. I think that tells you how little I bother to haulk my body across the pitch..
But, the thing is that my evening sickness is abating, so i'm pretty sure that is what Spanish ladies use these fat reserves for. It all makes sense. How else could you go from 4pm until midnight without eating unless your heart eats up your existing flesh for energy?
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