Katie Says....

I have become a Siberian widow…

Over the last few years I have become used to my husband’s somewhat bizarre lifestyle. I no longer worry when he calmly declares over dinner that he is off to North Korea for a few days, or has a meeting booked somewhere in the Balkans and may be home sometime next week (invariably hungover and looking slightly sheepish) or finding him skulking about the house in the middle of the night with a scotch in his hand and his beloved Miles Davis on the stereo. However, Siberia may well be the final straw.

I don’t mind that he now owns more lycra than me (at least we haven’t seen the hand knitted cardigans yet this winter…), or that I can not get near the washing machine for sweaty gym kit or that he goes out before the dawn several times a week to train with Trevor but I do object with how he passes through the house and simply strip mines it of food. He no longer eats but denudes the place of calories.

For example, the other night I cooked a delicious meal for him. I gave him twice what I had and within thirteen seconds he was licking his lips and looking longingly at mine (even the dog knows better than this…). Twenty minutes later he is back in the kitchen and pounds of qunioa, porridge or barley is disappearing into his bottomless pit whilst I have to hide anything I might potentially like to eat later before that too vanishes. If I am lucky I hear: too much fat or too much salt and know that there will be something left for me when he has finished. Last Saturday I noted, with a degree of awe, that he had seven meals and still he went to bed complaining of hunger.

For me, at least, the race can not come soon enough or else Sainsburys will soon be delivering food by the pallet load.

(Post script - made a mistake tonight - cooked low fat banana bread....which lasted a whole five mins...)