Don't mean to witter on about the weight loss thing, but I totally forgot to say that practically the only sugar I've eaten in my own home/s since mid-April came in the form of fruit or fruit juice or fruity yoghurt. All the sugar I keep on hand is for a) hummingbird and oriole nectar, b) baked goods I give away, or c) so the Chap can make caipirhinnas, which require superfine sugar.
The only desserts I've consumed have been in other people's homes because I have good manners and I eat what's placed before me.
I cannot believe I'm saying this, but I cannot remember the last time I had any chocolate. I'm a lifelong chocolate addict, and not so long ago was mainlining Nutella on a regular basis. If I don't think about it, I don't even miss it, so I'll shut up about it now.
This week I received a new picture of The Duke, from the Courtauld Institute in London. It's fantastic to have it in hand, but it comes with certain frustrations:
1. It's a black and white print. The lovely academic at the Courtauld told me apologetically, "I don't even know what colour his coat is!"
2. The portrait hangs at Berkeley Castle, in Gloucestershire, which I visited regularly during our Bristol/Clifton years. And where I undoubtedly saw the painting and probably paid it very little attention. Now, of course, I'm desperate to see the real deal but no plans as yet to venture into the West Country.
I didn't request permission to post the image or use it publicly, it's intended for private research purposes. But if I happened to upload the artistic composition entitled Still Life of Desk on Friday Afternoon you just might spot my duke.
As he got older, he looked more like his dad, but in the colour picture by Kneller over at the side there I see some of his mother in him, too. Clearly his favourite pose was "hand on hip" but at least he changed sides when he sat to Jervas.
The mug contains tea (milk, no sugar). It was a Christmas gift from the literary agency that has the privilege of representing me.
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