Image: Leeds Museums & Galleries
Exams are over for Squeamish Sue, which is why she has kindly found the time (with the help of her mother) to put together a diet plan to rival Venice A Fulton's OMG plan. We, at Squeamish Bikini are currently unsure about endorsing a plan that counsels against red wine and garlic. It does endorse fried bread though...
‘The Rules of Indigestion’ to help with both one's diet and one's confidence.
‘The Rules of Indigestion’ to help with both one's diet and one's confidence.
- You mustn’t be fat
- Don’t eat bananas at night because they lie heavy on your chest
- Yoghurt and orange juice consumed together make a curdled ball in your stomach and are to be avoided or you will get reflux
- Pineapple and lemons are full of acid
- You mustn’t be fat
- Put salt in vegetables as it brings out the flavour, and add bi carbonate of soda as it brings out the colour.
- Keep dry biscuits on hand to help with stomach acid.
- Eat everything on your plate
- You mustn’t be fat
- You must eat something to keep you going whilst waiting for the meal to be ready or your digestive juices will give you acid.
- Eating too much gives you 'stomach on the chest'
- Always wash Strawberries and then cover them in sugar
- Sun dried tomatoes, olive oil, sardines, wraps and bagels are faddy fashion statements. As are avocados and tuna, pasta and risotto. These are not proper foods. Fried bread is.
- Garlic and red wine should be avoided. It doesn’t matter why.
- Eat at regular intervals or you will feel sick
- And finally, you mustn’t be fat
No matter how exams pan out, as long as I remember these rules I will be well equipped for life ahead and they are probably the most important thing I have learned to date!
We have been blessed by Powergen digging up our close. For whatever reason, what was to take 10 days has so far taken over 3 weeks and counting. 3 houses in the close have been selected for special preferential treatment; ours, our immediate neighbours and the house across the road. Not only has the road been dug up, but driveways too, and our house (I feel so lucky) is having a new gas meter, so in addition, they are digging up our path. Joy. In the meantime I have contracted Post Pneumatic Stress Disorder. How am I supposed to revise?
I am none too sure how I feel about the Royal Family; how different would my life have been without them? I am not a Royalist I don’t think, but neither am I a Republican. Or am I? I need to get off this fence! I was reading an article, written in 2009, about Peter Phillips and the lovely Autumn who got a berating for earning a crust, by none too discreetly advertising products on their clothing at some event or other and then got themselves featured in ‘Hello’ magazine for good measure. He was not given a title and so is not on the civil list, but his behaviour was felt undignified and unbecoming of blue blood. So what’s a guy to do..?
Whilst teetering on this fence, our party set up a gazebo in the street to protect ourselves from the elements. If you recall it rained just a bit. Amidst limp flags, non colour fast bunting and soggy sarnies, a procession of bedraggled rain soaked individuals shuffled their way up the high street headed by a cadet, cheeks bulging with effort, blowing on a rusty bugle, to celebrate the Grand Opening of the street party for the Queen's diamond jubilee.
We arrived at noon. The people next to us didn’t even unpack, they took one look at the river gushing along the gutter and turned tail. By two most people had fled, and by three the street was completely deserted but for a crackling intermittent tannoy on a loop, welcoming us to ‘This lovely summers day’. Undeterred, we partied on. Eventually we packed up our saturated belongings, each person sporting a unique wet patch courtesy of a corresponding gazebo leak. Mine was my right thigh, but Linda had wet knickers. She says it was the rain but I am not convinced… Somehow I carried 3 white plastic chairs, a picnic hamper and a rucksack of empties back to the car in one go,whilst holding a brolly over my head and I am not known for my dexterity! (We left the car there by the way – I didn't drive home).
I surely can't be alone in thinking the River Pageant was hardly the spectacle the commentary would have us believe. Were they watching the same thing? A disjointed mish mash of uncoordinated floating objects of various sizes is not my idea of poetry in motion. And the Buckingham Palace concert left a lot to be desired didn’t it. The calibre of acts were diabolical. Somebody tell Cliff, Elton and Macca not to bother any more. Please. It was cringe making in its awfulness. Sir Gary’s new clothes!
Whilst teetering on this fence, our party set up a gazebo in the street to protect ourselves from the elements. If you recall it rained just a bit. Amidst limp flags, non colour fast bunting and soggy sarnies, a procession of bedraggled rain soaked individuals shuffled their way up the high street headed by a cadet, cheeks bulging with effort, blowing on a rusty bugle, to celebrate the Grand Opening of the street party for the Queen's diamond jubilee.
We arrived at noon. The people next to us didn’t even unpack, they took one look at the river gushing along the gutter and turned tail. By two most people had fled, and by three the street was completely deserted but for a crackling intermittent tannoy on a loop, welcoming us to ‘This lovely summers day’. Undeterred, we partied on. Eventually we packed up our saturated belongings, each person sporting a unique wet patch courtesy of a corresponding gazebo leak. Mine was my right thigh, but Linda had wet knickers. She says it was the rain but I am not convinced… Somehow I carried 3 white plastic chairs, a picnic hamper and a rucksack of empties back to the car in one go,whilst holding a brolly over my head and I am not known for my dexterity! (We left the car there by the way – I didn't drive home).
I surely can't be alone in thinking the River Pageant was hardly the spectacle the commentary would have us believe. Were they watching the same thing? A disjointed mish mash of uncoordinated floating objects of various sizes is not my idea of poetry in motion. And the Buckingham Palace concert left a lot to be desired didn’t it. The calibre of acts were diabolical. Somebody tell Cliff, Elton and Macca not to bother any more. Please. It was cringe making in its awfulness. Sir Gary’s new clothes!
Well I can hardly believe that I have had my last ever lecture at college; it seems it was only 5 minutes ago I awaited the first with excitement and trepidation. Half term is over and today I sat a Maths GCSE exam!
I have been revising (with ear plugs). I am not one for bullet point revision I have discovered, I need more than the bones to work on, so it takes me a long time. This way, the topics sit well in my head, I just need to get them on paper before they float away.
If I am not blown to smithereens by the lovely gas people in the meantime, I will let you know how I get on.
Squeamish Sue
I have been revising (with ear plugs). I am not one for bullet point revision I have discovered, I need more than the bones to work on, so it takes me a long time. This way, the topics sit well in my head, I just need to get them on paper before they float away.
If I am not blown to smithereens by the lovely gas people in the meantime, I will let you know how I get on.
Squeamish Sue
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