It's day two of The Struggle and I'm not faring too well.

One kindly comment that came through this morning suggested I move to an Islamic country as evidently I have no self-discipline and need some sort of structure imposed on me by the State. But as my politics are Libertarian, that degree of interference wouldn't suit my sensitive political sensibilities. So instead I have decided to interfere with myself.

As you can see from my previous post, in a fit of self-loathing coupled with a hangover I decided to embark on a one week detox cutting out caffeine, alcohol, processed foods, red meat, lollies, junk food (see above) etc...

My last hurrah was Saturday night when my high-flying lawyer friend James had shore leave from his compound in Dubai. Carbohydrates and trans fats were on the menu while our glasses were never wanting for wine. Later we moved about a bit in a nightclub and happily inhaled second hand smoke. How joyless life seems now on detox - without the energy to dance, without the smoke to breathe....

Day one of The Struggle was yesterday. Without caffeine I felt like I had been injected with lead. I was all woolly and slow. I wrote a story but it wasn't very good. I went home and fell asleep. At 6pm. I woke up at 10 and then couldn't get back to sleep until 3am. I had to drink 1.5 litres of a foul smelling broth. I frequently felt like weeping.

This morning I tried to roast linseed and other assorted nuts for a homemade cereal the detox book suggested. But the nuts exploded all over the kitchen and without my morning coffee I lacked the deterixity to adequately marshall the mess.

When I added the nuts to some yogurt, the heat of them curdled the yogurt. The nuts tasted like gravel. The yogurt tasted like gravel. The gravel even tasted like gravel.

Now I feel weak and clumsy. I can;t typpe prop;ly. On my way to the kitchen to draw water for a herbal tea, I tripped on a box.

Labels: caffeine, detox, Dubai, junk food, nightclub