At last it’s over. The battle is won. After weeks of psychological and bodily struggle, requiring iron self-discipline and Herculean resolve, I have emerged bloody, sweaty, emotionally drained – but victorious.
I’ve finally conquered my addiction to rocky-road clusters.
To recap. At the start of the year, I stopped drinking. With all the mountains of rich food I was eating for this column, I was putting on weight. Going teetotal, I thought: that should help.
Except it didn’t, because – as so many former drinkers find – when the body is denied its usual source of sugar, it demands an alternative. Hence my abrupt cravings for chocolate, sweets, biscuits and puddings. At night, after my wife had gone to bed, I found myself digging to the back of the kitchen cupboard and scoffing the remnants of a shortbread tin from Christmas 2014.
Children’s birthday parties – which, thanks to having a three-year-old,...
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