Today

On Monday I had a diet review session with my personal trainer. I'd filled in a questionnaire and he had produced 2 assessments. One detailed my metabolic type - I should eat slightly more carbohydrates than proteins and strictly limit fats. I have a slight issue with this, as, being a vegetarian, I find it rather hard to separate these items out. A nut - is it fat, carbohydrate or protein? Although, broadly, I see what he means. And it's pretty much how I eat already, although I could probably reduce carbs. (Bread is good, tho')

He also looked at my general levels of well-being and made a couple of suggestions about improvements, mainly centering around organic and whole foods. It's difficult to argue with him or his wife as they're both such good ads for what they do. In the main, he said that my well-being levels are good and that I manage stress well. (Just as well, given my job). So, like the dentist, leave well alone.

In My Day

Daddy also had "ideas" about food, a lot of which probably wouldn't stand up to today's nutritional scrutiny.

On the plus side, he loved fish. He would often arrive home on a Friday night with some mackerel which he would roll in porridge oats and fry. Mamma used to souse mackerel or herring, a process which filled the house with the smell of vinegar for days. She would also cook regular fish and chips for us all. Occasionally Daddy had skate. I used to watch, appalled and fascinated as he cut through and ate what appeared to me to be bones. And he ate tinned pilchards in tomato sauce, bones and all.

There was plenty of meat eaten in the house - I realise now that I only liked meat that was so overcooked or ersatz that it didn't really resemble meat. Daddy hated ersatz meat - even sausages or corned beef, so those items were fed to us, but not to him. He loved the fat on meat and believed that it was really good for you. With metabolic typing in mind, it could have been that it was good for him - he did live to be 86, after all. I, on the other hand, absolutely loathed it. That went for crispy bacon rind and pork crackling as well as the nasty kind that's attached to stewed beef or ham fat.

One Christmas there was the usual turkey and boiled ham joint. Daddy did the carving and, as usual, cut of a large slice of ham, meat, fat and rind, for each of us. This year I rebelled. I ate the meat, but simply couldn't eat the fat. There was a stand-off, following which I was told to leave the table and not allowed my Christmas pudding (something I have always loved - it's the dried fruit, you see). I myself have always been more tolerant with my young'uns on Christmas day.

On more than one occasion, Mamma cooked goose. She would collect the fat, fry some onions till they were blackened, and mix them with the fat which was allowed to harden. This she spread on toast with a little salt. We were also offered beef dripping on toast. I hated it all and nobody in the family had any understanding of why this might be.

Unusually for a child, I liked all vegetables, including cabbage, even the cabbage we had at school!

I have no idea whether I'm healthier that my parents or will live longer, but I do believe that good food comes in a variety of guises. Anyway, all that fat made me into a fat girl, and has caused me to struggle ever since.