Those of you who've been reading this for a while may know that the original reason for this blog was to document a weight-loss programme I was taking on. The plan was to lose some excess tonnage and at the same time raise some money for a good cause. Hence the blog's title. No, folks, this was never intended to track the mythology of pig-fat based cooking products. Sorry to disappoint.
Fairly quickly (about the second entry, to be honest), I realised that endless posts about nutrition and exercise (or the distinct lack thereof) were going to be extremely dull. Which is why I soon broadened the remit and decided to write about any old crap instead. Still pretty dull, but it amuses me.
Anyway, the aim was for me to lose two stones in weight - a whole 28 pounds - in three months between July and September. This meant the hastening in of a whole new regime. There were new and exciting foods to try, I was off alcohol (well, sort of) and I even thought about exercise. It was a monumental effort, a major change in lifestyle and a serious commitment.
And I failed.
I lost 22 pounds; still a pretty worthwhile achievement as far as my friends and family were concerned, but not my original target. I also managed to raise over £1,000 for charity, which was officially A Good Thing too, but still hankered after losing that next six pounds of blubber.
So some of you might understand the excitement, nay, joy, that struck when I saw this, this lunchtime:
The scales are now showing two stone less than they did at the beginning of all this. Permit me to quote from Leonard Cohen, John Cale, Jeff Buckley and a cast of thousands for a moment:
Only a month or so behind schedule, then.
I do intend to carry on with this, as my fat content is still roughly equivalent to that of a pork scratching. I'm off the programme tonight, though, as we're going out with Chris and Karen to the Bull's Head in Hall Green. It's slap bang in the middle of their cask ale festival. Beer will have to be sampled. And we may well have to dine later, courtesy of our friends from the Indian subcontinent.
Me: Shall I put on a halfway decent shirt?
Katie: Think on - you're only going to get curry down the front of whatever you're wearing.
Sophistication is my middle name.