Cassie, Musings of a Cheshire Tart

When things get me down a bit I have a couple of ways of cheering myself up, the best and most effective way is to immerse myself in my work or in the absence of clients I’ll make a booty call to my f**kbuddy. If that fails I work out in a more conventional way at the gym and then relax in the spa.

Unfortunately in my current situation neither is possible, so the fallback plan comes into play. Shopping!

So I wander into Chester City Centre on a Saturday afternoon in July, which happens to also be a race day – fool, I hear you cry and you are so right!!!

The city is teeming, groups of tourists block street corners as they crowd around their guides, herds of foreign students jostle and trample over anyone who strays into their path and pushchairs or zimmer-frames seem to block every shop entrance or crush errand toes.

Worse still, the street vendors have discovered that no adolescent young male can resist the lure of a cheap vuvuzela. I suppose it is fitting that a noise reminiscent of a Rhinoceros mating call reverberates around the City, since Rhinomania* has descended upon Chester, but it has definitely put me off my latte and driven me away from my usual people watching bench.

In danger of being arrested for punching Spanish children and sodomising boys with instruments ideally shaped for this task, I flee the centre for the sanctuary of my cosy flat, a homebrewed latte and a tub of Baileys Ice Cream.

* more about Rhinomania in another post.

to all you gorgeous people, wishing me a good recovery. I love you all and I have been working very hard at relaxing and am well on the way to full health.

For months I have had to eliminate all fat from my diet and have been craving after chips, fried chicken, pizza and doughnuts, not to mention trading off the fat-content of a portion of steamed chicken against that of a latte or two (I’m addicted to latte, you know!) and experimenting with the ideal ratio of chocolate to painkillers.

Finally the good old NHS decided to bring the torture of limited food choices to an end and to chop out the offending organ and now that I can eat whatever takes my fancy again, all I want is Chicken Salad, raw veggies and juicy fruit.

The human psyche is a strange thing, of course once freed from my restrictions I attacked a jar of peanut butter and a 300g bar of chocolate whiled away a couple of blissful hours as I allowed each square to melt on my tongue and slide down my throat.

Since then and a scrumtious bacon and egg butty later; all cravings seem to have vanished and though I will never turn down a tasty morsel thrust my way, the urgency to devour anything with a fat content of 50% or more is no more.

I am hoping that the powers that be see this and accept that the only way to stop me from wanting more and more of something is to give me access to all I crave. So in other words if I was rich, all my desires will be assuaged.

If past experience is anything to go by, the new craving manifesting itself is an exception to that theory.

During my recovery I am to refrain from activities that raise my heart rate, so no gym and no work for a while.

So I am really craving work satisfaction - oh boy, I almost feel sorry for the first clients that walk in and crawl out my door, which will hopefully be soon. ;oP