We were up relatively early on Monday as the poet was off on another trip away, this time down south. I had intended on going back to bed once he’d gone, but the dog decided to wolf down a big drink of water and ended up throwing it all back up again. So I got up and stayed up.
I did all of the usual social media stuff over breakfast and I read a chapter of the latest book I’m reading on fasting. I finished The 8-Week Blood Sugar Diet on Saturday and started The Fast 800 on Sunday. We’re still clearing out the cupboards and freezer before giving this a go, but I think anything left at the end of this week can go in the freezer in the garage, and we can start filling the freezer in the kitchen with fresh.
After trying several diets, I pretty much decided that I didn’t want to fund the diet industry any longer. But we’re looking at this as a lifestyle change rather than a diet per se. And, of course, I’m very interested in the actual science used. We might try an 800-calorie diet for two weeks, but we’re more likely to try building up to the 16-8 fasting method, where you eat healthily in an 8-hour window and fast in a 16-hour window that just happens to include when we’re asleep.
I already know I’m not supposed to eat after 8pm if I can help it and if I don’t have breakfast until 8am the following day then I’m already doing the 12-12 method. In practice, however, I often don’t have breakfast until 9am or 10am, later at the weekend. So if I can just nip off that snacking after 8pm or earlier, then I’m already most of the way there. On weekdays the poet has already started skipping breakfast again and eating at around 12 – 2pm and again at teatime. So if he can stop eating at 8pm as well, then he’ll already be doing 16-8.
We just have to stop that snacking after 8pm…
I updated my earnings from Medium on the submissions spreadsheet, I updated my reading log, I finished and posted yesterday’s blog post, I created today’s illustration in Canva, and I started today’s blog post. I still had a few personal admin things to do, like a couple of phone calls, an investigation into how much of my state pension missing years I can buy back, and an attempt to find a gardener for our house in Solihull, and over a cup of tea I also quickly entered a few competitions.
I can start claiming my state pension when I’m 67. When I started making contributions the state pension age for women was 60. Then it was 65 to be brought in line with men, when I think they should have dropped the men’s age to be in line with the women, but hey, the country clearly can’t afford to do that. Now I’ll be 67, and they’re letting me claim it from the day of my birthday. The poet gets his about 2 months before his 67th birthday…
I started the next pomodoro with that teeny, tiny gig list admin. There’s nothing to do for Monkey Dust this week as they don’t have a gig for two weeks and then that one’s a private party. I checked the job board, and I had a quick look at the surveys.
The rest of the day was split between letting the dog out and in, some writing work, and that proofreading.
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