I once bumped into an old friend who was about four months’ pregnant. At the time, my children were five and three and I had all the respect and perspective on pregnancy as a squaddie, on leave in Aylesbury, does for life in the military.
“Any cravings?” I said, maliciously.
“I’m just trying to listen to my body,” she said, sensibly.
“Ha ha!” I cackled. Then I said, out of the corner of my mouth “Give me a fucking cheeseburger, you bitch!” while flapping my right hand open and closed in a “talky talky” gesture.
My friend laughed politely and then made her excuses and left.
But there is something in this, about the “listening to your body” thing. I so often crave sour things - lime, lemon, vinegar, sour apples, tart tangerines – that I think the pH of my body must be hopelessly alkaline, like putty. Baking soda. I am scrabbling to achieve equilibrium.
I have only been bothered to make this plate three times but I spend most of the rest of my life thinking about eating it. It is a slight hassle as it is an assembly job but when I do actually do it and sit down and eat it I wonder why I ever bother eating anything else.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Spike to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.