Last week, as i was recovering from my war with typhoid, i was told by the doctor, the compounder, the chemist, my parents, my grand mum, the neighbourhood cat, dog, bitch, their pups, the society chairman, my boss, my coworkers, some of my friends, most of my acquaintances, the sparrow who came in to watch what i was up to at 7 in the morning at home, and many others to watch what i eat.
I did that for a bit, but it didn't help. I still felt hungry, and the food that lay before me didn't get magically ingested by my pupils.
So i asked a close friend - turned honorary nutritionist - for some help, and after whacking me with a rolled up newspaper, and then with a white glove, she sat me on her lap and explained why i was such a doofus. I was told to eat, but maintain a log of what i eat so that she, and well, anybody who read the (b)log could ponder over what i was eating to check whether i was eating right, eating healthy, and various other adjectives that you can suffix with the verb eating.
This blog will attempt to chronicle my eating habits daily, till i eventually forget to update it. And occasionally, i hope, posts from experts, commentators, and opinionated buffoons who analyse what i eat. I'll try not to infuse opinion with fact here, but hey, i get lonely, and i feel like talking sometimes.
