C25k week one: ugly shoes and a radish-red face

So, I've finished week one of couch to five k.

After getting through the door, and for about an hour afterwards, my face was this colour:

Radishes. Picture courtesy of La Grande Farmer's Market on Flickr

The trainers are still ugly. When combined with iphones in special arm holster things and funny water bottles you can hold while you're running, bleach and paint-stained jogging bottoms and a hoody nicked off the husband, the look gets even better. And when you add a face that's the colour of a radish - and I'm not exaggerating, that's exactly the shade I go - the overall effect is not glamorous.

In terms of actual progress with the program - well, I'm getting there. You may have noticed that it's taken me more like two weeks to complete week one. That's partly because of a schedule that made a missed workout in the first week inevitable, and partly because I was ill on Monday of this week and for a couple of days walking to the bus wasn't going to happen, let alone attempting to run.

The very first time we did the workout, it was just so much harder than I was expecting. After all, I wasn't strictly on the couch - I was fitter than I had been for a while after a couple of months of working out obsessively (for me) on the Wii - and getting properly sweaty and horrible, not just fannying around. But I ran the first minute much too fast - not fast at all, but not slow enough. After that I'd knackered myself so much that I could only run for 40 seconds of the next minute. And the next, and so on. I ran for the full minute twice, and for forty seconds six times.

And you know what? I was still incredibly proud of myself. I didn't stop - either ran, or walked, but never stopped.

The second time was easier - I walked the last part of the third minute, and the final minute - I got a stitch.

Going out again this week, a week after I'd last run? Actually easier than I was expecting - I gave up during the third minute, and when confronted with  a steep unpaved slope in the last minute, but also suddenly realised that I was stopping for purely psychological reasons, and that I could actually have kept going.

We realised that the gaps, and the fact I still wasn't running the full distance, meant we'd have to repeat at least some of the week, and so re-did the last session for our last session.

This was the hardest one at all. We were running in warmer weather, at a different time of day, into strong winds. For whatever reason, both the husband and I found it harder than usual.

BUT I DID IT. There were a couple of seconds where I stopped running and walked for a second or two - once when I dropped my ipod, once because I didn't have my iphone with me to see I only had five seconds left and force myself on - mine was in the shop so the husband was using his app and telling me when to run and walk. But I'm still happy with that. Happy enough to start trying week two next week. And slightly scared!

But I've learnt a lot this week. First, to run incredibly slowly. As someone who only ran to catch a bus, I didn't really know anything about pacing myself, and although I'd read enough advice saying run slowly, I didn't know what it means. I do now. I run at a pace that feels barely faster than walking, although actually it is.

Secondly, that I can always go further than I think I can, and that it's my brain giving up when I stop, not my legs or lungs. I find it incredibly helpful to glance at how many seconds I have left when I think I'm about to give up, because I can then say "Surely you can do 10 more seconds? Just try" and manage it. I realised I always started walking during the third minute because I think "God, I'm exhausted and I'm not even nearly halfway through yet" and give up, thinking it's all impossible. Now I know this, I can carry on. The minutes after that one I always find easier. I've also started urging myself on to the next street lamp, the next bus stop, after a tip from my boss. "Come on, you can make it to there, that's no distance." Bizarrely, it helps.

Thirdly, that no-one looks twice at a fat girl in bad sportswear with a radish-red face trying to run. Certainly no-one points, or shouts. It sounds ridiculous that I was scared of this - but I was. And they didn't. No-one cares. This is brilliant, and liberating. (I've also thought of what I'd shout back, though, just in case.)

And finally, although I've always worked out best on my own, doing it for no-one but me, I'm really enjoying doing this with the husband. Although he annoyingly finds it far easier than me - even though he was less fit than me to start with, he weighs so much less and is so much taller, he has a massive advantage over me. I tell myself that he wouldn't do nearly so well carrying a suitcase (roughly the difference in our weights), and that satisfies the competitive part of me. But heading out together, urging each other on, listening to the same playlist so we both laugh when Dolly Parton comes on - it all helps. And it's great that we're making progress together, and when we come back, exhausted, smelly, but so very proud of ourselves - that's a wonderful feeling to share.

So onwards and upwards. For the first time in my life I'm running - even just for a minute - because I want to, not because I have to. And I'm starting to enjoy it. Who knew?

Spicy parmasan crackers

  

It probably won't come as any surprise to anyone who's noticed the masthead that I rather like gin. The blog name comes from my twitter name, which in turn takes inspiration from a Dresden Dolls song, "Coin-operated boy", and was actually my husband's suggestion - the idea being that I come alive once gin is inserted. True, but in an emergency, wine, or even a nice cup of tea, will do.

But if I have a weakness for a nice gin and tonic, I have even more of a weakness for nibbly things to go with it. Although I like chocolate and enjoy cake, they're seldom my downfall. I am able, should I want to, to eat both in moderation.

When it comes to crisps and savoury nibbles, all moderation goes out of the window. These can't be kept in stock - they must be bought, a couple of packets on a Friday to last us the weekend. I've been known to hide packs of crisps bought on special offer in a different room so I don't see them when I'm opening the kitchen cupboards and become tempted. And while I love posh crisps, I love cheesy crispy things even more. You know the ones - the things that cost at least a couple of pounds a packet, where you look at the calories, go "that's not bad", and the realised it's per three nibbles. Who eats three nibbles?

So when I saw this recipe over at Domestic Sluttery, for parmesan and poppy seed crackers, I had to give them a go - especially as there was surprisingly little butter and parmesan in the recipe. (I am in no way suggesting these as a diet food. It's just they could be a lot worse.)

I liked the recipe, but made a couple of changes for the sake of ease - I didn't bother refrigerating the dough for ten minutes before rolling it into shape, as I have cold enough hands that it didn't go all sticky. And because it was slightly stickier than it would otherwise have been, I was able to roll it in the poppyseeds without needing to mess around with an egg glaze.

Because I wanted nibbles, I rolled it much smaller than recommended - roughly an inch in diameter. This meant that when I cut it up, after being good and putting it into the fridge for half an hour, I had hundreds of the things. Well, eighty.

After baking they certainly looked the part. Only thing was - they were VERY spicey, which was odd, since the recipe only described a "gentle warmth". I don't know if my cayenne pepper is particularly strong, but half a teaspoon was a lot, and they were perhaps more hot than was fun (still finished them all, natch). So next time I'll halve the cayenne. But there will be a next time. Possibly this weekend.

Embarrassingly easy: jam swirls

So, last week, after defrosting some pastry for a quiche, I realised I had a little extra.

"Never mind," I thought, "You've got five meals out of that pack of pastry, you can just chuck the rest."

Nope. For the next couple of hours, that pastry played on my mind. I couldn't bear to throw away good food.

I also had an idea - there was a jar of no-added-sugar jam in the fridge, which was bound to go off quite soon.

I combined the two, rolling out the pastry into an oblong, spreading it with jam, and baking the result for 15 minutes.

The result was delicious - light, and slightly chewy from the jam. I'll do it deliberately next time - and perhaps even make an effort to make them a bit prettier!

Makes 20 bite-sized swirls
90g puff patry
50g jam (the no-added-sugar stuff, made with grape juice, works well. I used raspberry)
Um... that's it!

Pre-heat your oven to 180C ish.
Roll out your pastry to an oblong about 10cm by 20cm.
Spread it thinly with the jam.
Carefully roll it up into a long, thin sausage.
Cut it up into 20 slices, and place on a baking tray, lined with baking parchment.
Bake for 15 minutes.
Allow to cool a little - jam gets VERY hot.
Eat. Try not to eat them ALL in one sitting. Maybe get up and make another cup of tea halfway through.

(I've tagged this one vegan as a lot of bought puff pastry is vegan - obviously, check your labels beforehand).

Knitting in progress: the shawl is nearly there!

I'm still working on this shawl (last blog post here).

In fact, I'm hoping to finish it by the end of the week.

It's still going well - I finished the main body without too many problems.

And the edging pattern itself is fairly simple - and one where any mistakes become apparent instantly, so can be fixed.

But before I could start on it I had to pick up and knit over 400 stitches from the edging - a process I hate when it's just 20 stitches, let alone twenty times twenty.

The only way I managed to do it even slightly evenly was by putting in stitch markers at regular intervals - I divided the edge into half again, and again, until I knew roughly 27 stitches had to go between each stitch marker. That made it much easier.

I must have gone wrong somewhere because when I approached the point I wasn't where I should have been in the pattern repeat, but I had enough warning to bodge it and make it work out!

Comfort food: cuppy egg

When I was a little girl, my mother would sometimes - as a great treat - give us cuppy egg for supper, or for lunch when we were off school sick.

It was the most simple thing - egg, chopped with butter and a pinch of salt, served in a tea cup, eaten with a teaspoon, with toast.

I've made it every now and then since, mostly as a quick snack for one - a lunch; a simple but luxurious solitary supper.

But the other day I was feeling brittle. Emotionally and physically tender, for no particular reason. And when it came to lunchtime, and The Husband was suggesting all sorts of special salads, I stuck my bottom lip out and explained I wanted cuppy egg.

It was only when I started cooking it that I realised I'd never served it to him - I've probably made it for myself when getting better from feeling ill once or twice, but never for him. In fact, he was expecting the slightly more sophisticated oeufs en cocotte - for which, a recipe another time, I promise.

But a smile broke out as he realised what he was actually getting, and the result - above - was delicious. I realised we didn't have any teacups, so instead I served it in a couple of mugs, with hot, buttered toast.

So, here you go. For the days when you're feeling a little fragile.

Cuppy Egg

Ingredients (per person)
Two eggs
Knob of butter
Chives (optional, my mum never used them, but they do add something)
Pinch of salt
Bread and butter for toast.

Hard boil your eggs (about 9 minutes, put the toast on about a minute before they're done), and then replace the hot water in the pan with cold, to stop the edge of the yolks going grey.
Working quickly, peel and quarter your eggs, one by one, and drop the pieces into your teacup or small mug.
Add a knob of butter and a pinch of salt.
Using two knives in a scissor movement, chop the eggs and butter up into small pieces in the cup, and mix it all up, until you have something that can easily be eaten with a teaspoon.
Chop the chives over the top if using.
The toast should pop up just about now. Butter it and quarter it, and serve on a plate with the cup or mug of egg, and a teaspoon. The teaspoon is important!

I eat it partly with the spoon, partly scooping the mixture onto the toast.

Now go and curl up somewhere with a good book and a cup of tea. It'll all be better soon.

Five years

Five years ago, one Friday, I had the day off, because I'd worked the Sunday before. I spent the day relaxing at home, and baking an amazing chocolate pudding for a dinner party I was going to the next day.

Just as I was washing up, I got a text message from a friend asking me if I was coming out to the pub. My original plans for that evening had fallen through, and the day before, she suggested I joined her and her colleagues for their after-work drinks.

I wasn't sure if I could be bothered, and texted back to ask if there was any talent.

She replied, "No, but there's good craic. You should come."

So I brushed my hair, changed into a top that didn't have chocolate down the front, slicked on a bit of eyeliner so I looked vaguely awake and spritzed some perfume, and jumped into a taxi across town, hoping for a bit of banter, a couple of drinks and a laugh.


It was a good crowd, and a good night. And as I was chatting to one of my friend's colleagues, I noticed that I rather disagreed with her about the talent. Over the other end of the group, I saw someone rather nice. Tall, dark and handsome. He saw me. One of his eyebrows shot up, and we both went back to our conversations.

I remember thinking, "He's cute. Shame, though, because he's talking to that bloke everybody says is a wanker. He probably is too."

But after a few moments, he came up to me and uttered the immortal opening line: "Are you Irish too?" (The friend was Irish, not the annoying type who thought it was cool to say "craic" five years ago.)

I laughed, said in my very English voice, "You obviously haven't heard me talk yet", and we got talking. Turned out he wasn't a wanker.

We talked for an hour or so, about nothing, about everything. At one stage he disappeared. I remember being surprised, thought he wouldn't have gone without saying goodbye. But when he turned up beside me five minutes later, I got a bit more confident. I later learnt that the five minutes had been spent hiding in the gents, plucking up courage to ask me out.

And when the friend and I decided to leave, he did ask me for my number. His hands were shaking slightly, so I offered to put it into his phone for him. I just managed not to dance out of the pub.

The next day he texted and asked me out. And the day after, we met for a coffee, and stayed out for five hours talking.

Three years later, we got married.

Two years on, I'm still pinching myself.

An easy lunch at home: portabella mushroom and halloumi burgers

Another weekend lunch recipe that's just too easy to be called a recipe.

Portabella mushrooms instead of burgers is hardly a new idea. I first came across the idea in a Nigel Slater book years ago, and now they've made their way onto pretty much every pub menu as a veggie burger alternative.

But I hadn't done one at home for ages, and so on Saturday, we had this for lunch. And on Sunday, too, because the burger buns came in packs of four, we didn't have any room in the freezer, and it was lovely.

Per person:
A portabella mushroom, the size of a burger, or if you can only get smaller ones, enough to fill a burger bun.
A few slices of halloumi
If you have a jar of roasted red peppers around, or a red pepper, worth popping one in
Something with chilli - I used sweet chilli sauce
A scrape of mayo
A burger bun.

Grill the mushrooms and halloumi, turning after a few moments when needed. If you're using fresh peppers, grill alongside, if not, just whack 'em under the grill for the last few seconds to warm up a bit. At some point while they're grilling, put the burger buns under the grill for a few seconds to toast.

Whip out the burger buns, spread with mayo and your chilli sauce of choice.

When everything is done, assemble into an amazing stack of burger-like goodness and DEVOUR.

I was so keen to eat my burger that I didn't check if the picture I'd taken was sharp. I've done my best in photoshop, but sorry, it's still not great! I served it with green salad with a squeeze of lime juice on top - if it had been supper, not lunch, I would have added wedges alongside.