Don't Cough

Ouch. But in a good way. S and I tried out the vibrating plates machines (PowerPlates) at the gym two days ago (why does it always hurt 2 days later; why not on the day or 1 day later? Why always 2?). 15 minutes of fairly gentle exercise whilst whichever part was in contact with the plate vibrated at 30 or 35 hz (the 50hz setting is for massage not exercise. Which we didn't know on the day that we decided to play with the machines, set them to 50hz+high, lay on them then watched S - who is quite tiny - bouncing bodily up and down on the plate). The exercises didn't seem at all strenuous on the day. Apart from the press-ups, which I've always hated with a passion even when I could do them with one arm. And the sit-ups seemed particularly useless at the time. Then nothing. And nothing for a day again. But today - ouch. One cough, and I'm doubled up, muttering about the lower half of my 6-pack.

But no matter: if it's having an effect, then I'm going again. And again. Starting with today. Bzzzzzz.

Officially fat

And so I'm (almost) officially fat: the needle (or in this case, the digital readout) on the dial is nudging the "too heavy to be fun" mark after a weekend's overindulgence in Munich. Not that the weekend was a bad thing: for someone born and partially raised in Germany, a whole long weekend of beer, sausages and excellent saurkraut (as well as a stunning dancer of a wine and some civilised ravioli) is bad-foodie-indulgent heaven. But now I need to get serious (I mean really serious, not just a bit upset and moving a little bit closer to serious) about the weight. My weight. And of all things, this I know: there is no food in this world that I love more than the amount that I hate being overweight. There is no exercise (possibly with the exception of super-heavy indoor rowing) that I hate more than fat. And this, as the man might say, is a no-brainer.

Missing Simons Found: Delices d'Argenteuil (P2)...

...erm. I'm not sure what the other one was called, but I have the pictures: it's asparagus wrapped in parma ham then grilled.

More Simons

I've been a little remiss about writing this blog of late. Food has happened, exercise has happened, weight has happened (both up and down), yet the keyboard has remained silent. My apologies, gentle invisible readers.

So. Some delicious Simons have happened of late. Except it wasn't me cooking them: all the glorious credit should go squarely to Hwsgo and his equally glorious culinary talent. Which Simons? Poulet Saute au Viaigre (page 40) happened last weekend, but I can't right now remember what the earlier Simons were. I remember them being absolutely delicious though.