Circus? And self denial.

THE CIRCUS IS IN TOWN! There’s a marquee on Hampstead Heath, just down the road from Mel’s. They appear to be giving plastic swords to children in a transparent bid to send them home begging their parents “can we go to the circus can we can we can we!” Clowns and trapeze artists! Sideshows and lights! Candy floss and loads loads of people all together in a really small space watching a stage legally hey wait a second…

If we can have the circus, I want to go to the theatre please thankyou please. Or be in a fecking show! Or at the very least not to be wondering which old building is going to be turned into a pub or flats next. For crying out loud. Grrrr aaargh. Tents! We all need to be making shows in tents. Huge tents with fires. I’m doing it. I’ve just got to be able to afford the tent… Child’s play.

My biology and mood are both all over the place at the moment. No caffeine. No booze. No sugar. Hard Vegan. No spice. No oil for cooking even. No salt. I’m mostly just eating fruit, rice and roasted veg with no oil. I’m experimentally roasting an artichoke with no foil as there is no foil and no steamer in Hampstead. I was having marmite on toast without butter for a few days but now I’m restricting fermented foods and cutting wheat too, so that takes out that plan – plus no more kombucha. I’m allowing turmeric and cacao in the morning. I’m up to my usual tricks, making life difficult for myself with the hope of learning something.

It’s all pointing to tomorrow evening.

It’s useful to be abstemious sometimes. I have something of the monk in me anyway. This diet appeals to the ascetic side of me. But I’ll likely keep some elements of it for a long time to come. It’s got to the stage in my decadence where it’s much more unusual and interesting for me to have brown rice and vegetables than it is to have tomahawk Steak with languostine and truffles.

It’s Friday night, the circus is in town, and I’m getting kicks from self denial.

We had a long walk and I found my first definite Beefsteak Mushroom. As ever I never eat my first positive, but I know where they were so I’ll be back next year if we’re all still alive, to risk poisoning myself in the name of free food and geekiness.

I’m not going to go to the circus tonight. I’m not going to try and win a prize by hooking ducks, or go on the dodgems, or get a toffee apple. I’m going to sit here at home and have camomile tea and an early bed. My legs hurt still from jumping. I need to do more exercise going forward. It’s my birthday coming up soon and I feel every single one of my heavy weight of my … ahem … my 29 years.

The next year is going to be better. I always feel at home in my birth month, and I like to start adventures at this time of year. This year’s adventure looks like it’ll be an adventure into being a bit less irresponsible and a bit more focused. Because why the hell not, I haven’t tried that one yet…

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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