The Unlucky Feeling Coffee Share


So if we were having a coffee this week, it wouldn’t be an Americano with coleslaw as I thought I heard earlier.  Cold milk maybe?

This post was going to have a different title but “The I Think I’m Unlucky But In The Grand Scheme Of Things I Realise That I’m Pretty Well Off Coffee Share” was a bit long.  So instead of putting it in the title, perhaps you can just take the sentiment in to what I’m about to say.

I kicked off the week trying to stay on my healthy diet.  Part of that is making a breakfast omelette containing a banana, cinnamon, some oats, peanut butter and (obviously) two eggs.  I picked two eggs up out the box, dropped one and my brain decided to drop the other to attempt to catch the first, which I didn’t manage.

As another part of my “diet” I’d been trying to eat real food.  As a result, I’ve been craving chocolate since at least Wednesday.  I promised myself that I could have a bag of Mini Eggs at the weekend – an entire bag, in one sitting.  Saturday morning arrived and I went out for breakfast as usual (this week I had some high protein breakfast at home and had porridge while I was out) and then on to the supermarket.

No. Frickin. Mini Eggs.

Gutting.  I got a Toblerone instead and made myself feel sick.  That’s odd cause I normally eat a lot of crap in one go and it doesn’t affect how I feel too much.  I think I grow used to not eating junk like I need to adapt to eating more vegetables than I’ve eaten for a while.  I eat a lot, so I now pad meals out with vast amounts of veg.

In fact, this whole “unlucky” thing feels even more insignificant the more I type it, but keep with me.  Last night we went to the casino again.  I think it’s been 3 or 4 months since the last time we went.  We went to the Blackjack table and three of us sat down.  Throughout our game there was at least one other player, sometimes two.

I played nine hands, which means there were at least 36 hands played in total (excluding the dealer) while I was playing, and I stayed at the table for a couple of rounds after I called it quits.  So let’s say that there were 50 hands on the table.

I won three of my own hands, and each time I’d drawn 20.  In no hand did I go over 21, which means that I was beaten by the dealer 6 times.  One of those hands was a 13 so it was a bit controversial stopping there, but the dealer had a 10 and house rules say that they have to draw on 16 and stick at 17 so I didn’t think it too bad.

The other 5 hands I had were 19, 18 three times and 17.  They were strong hands to a non-card counter.  Losing was bad enough, but there was so much insult added to the injury.  First up, if I’d have drawn another card on two of those 5 hands, I’d have had 21.  Secondly, when you’re watching the table, you think about what you would do with other peoples’ hands and, as much as I could keep track of, I would have won well over half.  And thirdly, one of my friends got Blackjack three times.

It made me think that I am just destined to be forever unlucky at that game.  I didn’t think I played it badly, but it still wasn’t good enough.


I got selfies with two different fibre glass cows.

This week, I seemed to be having some broadband issues, in that is was slower than dial up for most of the week.

And I also had a Green Tea flavoured KitKat from, I think, Japan.  It was bizarre.

Erm… what else? I do a lot of dreaming and, most of the time, I don’t recognise the people in them, other than me.  However, there is one person who crops up in my dreams whenever I do recognise the other person.  Last week I dreamt that we were on a train and she asked whether blondes or brunettes have the most fun.  I told her that is was neither.  Oh, how we chuckled.  And then I was woken by a cat walking up me.

I had a bit of a success this week.  Last time I was in Holland I got a phone call while I was at Schiphol airport.  “I put your dishwasher on and it’s blown all the fuses in the house,” said my ever helpful Moo-sitter.  My landlord and lady suggested that it might be a blocked pipe because it hadn’t cleaned very well during the partial cycle in which it turned everything off.  They suggested that I don’t use it until someone comes to look at it.

Now, I hate washing up.  I hate it more than gardening because, at least with the latter, you have a nice looking garden at the end of it.  Washing up is a complete necessity of a chore.

Having established that the blocked pipe theory was simply that, I decided to give the dishwasher a whirl with the mounting pile of plates and pans I was generating with all the healthy cooking I’ve been doing.  And it worked.  It was a happy bonus.

That’s about it, but I’m going to put about how many exercise week has been in the hope that it holds me accountable to carry on.  My weight training is going well.  I’m not pulling up trees yet (literally or metaphorically) but progress is happening and I’m feeling good.  I think I’ve finally worked out how to bench press properly and the other compound movements are getting heavier.  The only difficulty I’m having at the moment is fitting in the HIIT stuff or some running around it.

So there’s my week.  I hope you’ve enjoyed yours.  Speak to you next time.

(This song has come up numerous times during my week:)



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