In Praise of Chips.

I'm on a diet, not a proper recognised one but I just watch what I eat as does everyone else over thirty who has noticed with alarm their growing paunch. Alas all my good intentions become undone as this diet doesn't extend to alcohol. I have been promising to give up the demon drink since 1985 but there has no progress on this front as yet although I am still hopeful. Due to my self-imposed eating regime I hardly ever have chips but yesterday was an exception.

I had spent the morning sitting in the waiting room of a cold and draughty garage getting some new tyres fitted and my brake pads replaced. The garage was definitely in my home town but the draught came all the way from Siberia and the door wouldn't close properly so three of us sat there shivering. It was one of those bleak, grey overcast days that threatened rain and makes you depressed just looking at it. After the garage expedition I went to the council dump to off load some rotten wood and other household junk then came home and fiddled about trying to fix the dish washer which was leaking so I got wet, hey ho. It was about lunchtime by now and I was exceptionally hungry and my usual fare of rabbit food or grilled vegetables just wasn't going to cut it.

Sometimes, for me at least, only a plateful of unhealthy stodge will do. It's like extreme comfort food so off to the chippy I went for a large chips, jumbo sausage and steak and kidney pie. I put on a DVD which I never do during the day, turned the heating up and stuffed myself; it was wonderful. I resisted the urge to photograph it and post it on Facebook which seems to be the thing to do these days. I could have had an egg salad but for some dark psychological reason I don't understand, I felt need for the loving embrace of a mountain of stodge. I must admit to feeling much better after and quietly content with the world. Some people like cake, others chocolate but for me it's a huge plateful of chip-shop chips with a pie and sausage balanced on the top.

Today it's back on the straight and narrow, I cycled to work in the pouring rain with my lunch of cold rice, mixed beans and diced chicken tucked into my back pack, it was as appetising as it sounds. I must be doing something right as I managed to cycle up a hill in sixth gear that I used to have to walk up although I'm still a fat bastard. Clearly the much maligned and unfashionable British staple has mystic powers of rejuvenation and spiritual replenishment not to be sneezed at. Jamie Oliver take note.