Part Time

I always tell myself that with not much to do, no time pressures, I will do more exercise, spend time preparing healthy salads and meals, that sort of thing. And yet, and yet... here I am, having stuffed myself stupid over the last few days, very little motion, movement, whatsoever. Buttered toast for breakfast, maltesers and wine and beer, booze cruising, and more tv than is really, really good for me. Or anyone. Oops. I seem to benefit most from a) structure and b) loneliness, heartbreak and misery, given that when I worked part time in Barcelona while my beloved was on the other side of the ocean I was in the best shape of my life - well, my post-teen life, anyway.

In tribute to that, and to give myself a kick up the backside, here's a photo from that glorious city.