Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Doughnuts and a vitamin D deficiency

We've been back from our mind-blowing, bum-numbing Easter driving holiday for a week now and already it feels like forever ago. It was an incredibly memorable week, for all the right kinds of reasons this time, and I'll get to a succinct digestion of all that we saw this weekend with any luck. But for now though, I want to talk about doughnuts and other things that start with D.

Driving into Snowdonia National Park
Ever since Mexico I've been feeling a little less than my fabulous self (that is, literally, if you step on the scales, thanks amoebic dysentery!) but also tired, a bit flat, a bit achy and just generally a bit uphill beige. I hadn't been back to the doctor since we got back from Tulum in January - a girl can diagnose her own hypochondria thank you very much - but a couple of weeks ago, after a toy drop too many, I decided to go back and just propose that "I don't feel very well" and see what they had to say. Every GPs dream patient, I know, I know.

Anyway, NHS bureaucracy, a blood test and two weeks later, it turns out I have a serious vitamin D deficiency and need an injection. I'm not sure Mexico is to blame for the lack of sunshine vitamin, I rather imagine the lack of sunshine has something to do with it, but I'll be interested to see if a vial full of sunny side up has me springing from the chair with a renewed zeal for life. I hope it's that easy.

But let's not kid ourselves, some fucking sunshine would also help. It snowed again last week.


Not the slack-jawed ambivalent snow of two weeks before, like lazy environmental dandruff, but like blizzard-like snow, coming at you from every angle in a raging, schizophrenic, fucked up dance that was so extreme you could only laugh in stupefied wonderment. Welcome to Spring people, where the sun never shines and your daffodils come dusted in snow.

Beyond the continued wearing of tights under trousers this shitful weather has mean a complete and total abhorrence for leaving the house for anything beyond the 10 to 6 slug of paid employment. Six months into the Winter That Never Ends, my ritual is now downpat. In the door, into LB's ratty old tracksuits pants, 10 minutes on the floor leaning against the radiator, dinner and then Dexter.  

I'm not sure why it's taken us so long to get around to watching the brilliantly dark Dexter but we're making up for lost time and are steaming through episode after episode. We started a couple of weeks ago and are already half way through season four. Unfortunately, it's an addiction that's brought with it another addiction, just as bad when consumed in excess: doughnuts.

I can't help it.

Every time I see the detectives at the Miami Metro police station devouring a box of sugary stale pastries I start salivating and find myself Desperately In Need of Doughnuts. The fucking sooner we finish watching this show the better, otherwise I'm going to end up with a diabetes problem as well as a vitamin D one.

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