In defence of sensible eating
I went out for a cracking Indian meal the other night. Chicken Madras, pilau rice, naan bread, onion bhajis, spicy Bombay potato, poppadums - and let's not forget two coffees and a delicious after-dinner mint. Waddling home I must have looked like a monster from a low-budget science-fiction film. And a fat one at that.
Still, the food was delicious and, since my father had kindly offered to foot the bill, there were copious amounts of it. Yes, it was expensive; yes, it was so excessive that we could have filled a large bucket with the leftovers; but then again, what other meal pleasures those around you with the fragrance of cultured cuisine for the whole of the following day?