Last Wednesday was World Pasta Day. Guido looks for any excuse to get his Ragu out. I’d have written a post about it but there’s only so much cannelloni one person can consume without having to lay down straight after.
“You should try to find your inner Zen,” said Cara. She teaches a yoga and meditation class at The Fish Kettle cafe every Sunday morning. “Food isn’t a substitute for happiness.”
Only a woman the width of a Twiglet but who still bends at right angles like a pipe cleaner could offer you such advice. Personally I’d just love a hobby which meant I didn’t have to lose twenty pounds at the end of it.
Readers will know I’ve been down the weight loss road before. It has pot holes. Need I remind you of – The Banana Diet?
“It’s not your body which rules your life, it’s your mind,” said Cara.
She was eating a plate of Guido’s homemade heavy cream scrambled eggs on rye at the time. I’d rather have his muffin.
“Take me, for example,” she put her fork down, “before I discovered transcendental mediation my life was a void. It was a juxtapose. My entire being was an orgy of hidden horrible turbulent depths. I felt like some nightmarish water spout was going to suck me right up and spit me out into a barren wasteland on life’s shore. God, these eggs are terrific. I have no idea how Guido cooks them.”
I sipped my full-fat latte.
“In my opinion it’s the chicken who did all the hard work,” I said.
Listen, she’s not the only one who can hypothesise you know.
Cara slid a book across the table. Even though it was upside down I could still read the title – Meditation For Beginners. My heart sank. I was just hoping it was more comprehensible than the Spanish For Beginners book Guido bought me. He got really cranky when I inexplicably started making up Andalucian words. Anyway, yesterday on the way home from work I took the book out and started reading it on the London Underground.
I peered up over the top of it and could see that there was a Hot Guy In A Hoodie (HGIAH) sitting right opposite.
I stared at the page.
Get into a comfortable position.
I tucked my arms in. I wiggled down into the seat.
I looked back at HGIAH. He had beard.
I stared at the page
Close your eyes.
This made looking at the HGIAH far more difficult. It was also going to make reading the book completely impossible. So, I only shut one eye.
I squinted at the page. At first I thought I read, stop breathing, but realised that was utterly ridiculous as I would drop dead.
Stop thinking about your breathing.
I wondered if HGIAH was thinking about water spouts.
Focus on your inhalation and exhalation.
After a monent I realised I was panting erratically. This pricked HGIAH’s attention. He leaned over next to me rubbing his beard. He looked perplexed. He pointed to my book.
”Personally, man, I think it’s the body that rules your life, not the mind,” he said.
He had aura and he had depth.
If he hadn’t got off at Victoria Station I reckon we could have discussed the life enhancing aspects of a muffin.