Off the wagon

Like half of London, I gave the new year a surly greeting. It was time to diet. There are two sorts of diets. First, the ones that may work for girls. Breakfast, part of a lettuce leaf. Lunch, the leftovers from breakfast. Supper, some cottage cheese with watercress. Second, boys’ diets, which all concentrate on avoiding carbohydrate. That is not easy. We all enjoy sinking our gnashers in a warm bread roll, liberally buttered, and good pasta is a culinary glory. That said, il faut souffrir pour être beau — and at least with a high-protein diet you can have something to eat.

There is a downside. The boys’ regimes all involve cutting out grog, at least for a penitential mini-Lent. By boxing and coxing between Atkins and Dukan, choosing from each at his most permissive, I decided that ten drinkless days could suffice. (Dukan is an encouraging fellow, whose text is full of military metaphors.