Never read the label

I just bought a low fat peach yogurt from our canteen for lunch and, upon opening it, noticed that it looked quite well-set and, well, jellyish, for a yogurt. So I checked out the ingredients list... and sure enough, near the top, I see "beef gelatine". Cue freakout.

Now, I know gelatine gets used in lots of things and I know there are far worse ingredients out there, but something about the combination of the yogurt's consistency, its rather wishy-washy yellow colour and the knowledge that it contained beef gelatine led me to the unshakeable thought that I was eating pure melted down cow hoof. I had one more mouthful before consigning it to the bin and I'm now consoling myself with a giant mug of hot chocolate. It'll be full fat yogurt for me next time - it might be bad for me, but at least it's edible.

A blog about a dog

The dog in question: Muffin, the funniest, coolest, cleverest, most human dog I've ever met and the greatest pet anyone could ever ask for, who was killed by a car last night. She gave my family and I countless laughs and paw-hugs during her short little life and we will miss her lots.

Rest in peace, little muppet.

Two wheels good... eventually

Flatmate Jenny doesn't cycle in the city. She has a bike out in the suburb where she works and zips around there no problem, but she has yet to work up enough courage to tackle the streets of Amsterdam proper. I've managed to avoid talking to her about my early days as a city biker - or at least I had until last night, when, over a giant bowl of Haagen-Dazs, I filled her in. I think I may have scared her even more...

My first (and worst fall) was on my very first visit to see Oran after he'd moved here. It was a scorching Indian summer's day and we'd spent the afternoon lounging around the Vondelpark. (I may have had a touch of sunstroke, which can't have helped.) Oran had very kindly given me his girlie bike and rented one for himself and we zipped around town for a while in the early evening so I could find my balance. I hadn't cycled in about twelve years and was surprised by how confident I felt. We decided to bike home through the park to change before dinner, so I took advantage of the relatively clear bike paths and upped my speed. Trouble was, for all the fast pedalling, I was having a little trouble biking in a straight line, and so when Oran appeared right beside me all of a sudden, I swerved in his direction... and our handlebars locked together. There wasn't much either of us could do at this stage but somehow Oran managed to stay on his bike as I flew off, did a bit of a somersault and landed hard on my right side. The next few minutes after that are a bit hazy but I do remember Oran phoning my parents for my health insurance number (my poor father!). I was then bundled into an ambulance and carted off to casualty, where I was kept waiting for a while before being checked for concussion and given a tetanus shot to ward off any potentially nasty beasties (I'd cut my right leg pretty badly - I still have scars...). The following 36 hours or so were rather painful, but the psychological effects lasted much longer. It took me a year after I moved here (almost two years after the accident) to get back on a bike.

I've had a couple of spills since I started cycling again two and a half years ago, but nothing as serious. I've learned the hard way that tram lines are the perfect width for a bike tyre and getting caught in one will result in a surefire fall. I've learned that there is a limit to my cycling abilities after a few drinks, but I've not yet fallen off while tipsy. But, most importantly, I've learned that, whatever the hazards, there is no better way to navigate and appreciate Amsterdam. Hopefully, in time, Jenny will arrive at the same conclusion.

New week, new start

This past weekend has been extremely unhealthy in more ways than one. My liver took a hit on Friday (drinking, dancing, some more drinking, some more dancing), my wallet on Saturday (we have River Island now!), and my waistline on both Saturday and Sunday evenings (Indian takeaway and icecream on Saturday, Canadian Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday). Trouble is, everything I've just listed was extremely enjoyable - particularly the shopping and the icecream - and thoughts of treadmills and salads and various money-saving activities don't fire me up nearly as much. So I'm adopting a softly softly catchy monkey approach - nicoise salad for dinner tonight, gym tomorrow, a two-hour climbing session on Wednesday, and no booze at all until the weekend (this last ticks both the "healthy" and "money-saving" boxes). So, here's to losing a few pounds and maybe gaining (or at least not squandering) a few euro in the process...

Check out the timestamp

Sure what else would I be doing on a rainy Thursday night but researching some weird and some wonderful kids' TV shows? Working late isn't bad. Sometimes. Although I have a funny feeling the next two months are going to feature a lot of cycling home in the dark and quickie reheated dinners. Roll on Christmas...

Random snippets

1: It's getting cold here. The romance of living in a 260-year-old apartment is starting to wear off - no central heating, people, and warming one's hands on a pot of tea isn't quite cutting it. We had to rearrange the living room furniture last night so we can put on our gas stove and not melt. The rest of the apartment, however, is still icy cold. Mission for this weekend: Buy fleece blanket, buy mini bedroom heater.

2: I think I may be addicted to chocolate-covered kruidnoten. They're small round ginger biscuits of the type that Sinterklaas leaves in children's shoes every December 5th, but of course the shops are full of them already and I'm certainly not objecting. The dark chocolate variety is especially tasty.

3: I am in a major gym rut. Four weeks and counting now since my last visit. Trouble is, the more I think about going back now, the less likely I am to follow through. I almost made it on Tuesday but ended up with the stupidest (and most Amsterdamesque) excuse for skipping: I thought I'd left my bike lights at home. So I stayed in the office until my stomach started growling and then, upon packing up to go home and have dinner, discovered the offending lights in a tiny pocket in my new handbag (damn you, bag, with all your useful compartments). Too late, though, I was already ravenous and would probably have passed out on the treadmill. I've put together a new Gym Playlist and brought my gear to work today in the hope that I'll be newly motivated, but truth be told I'd rather go home and curl up beside the gas stove with a pot of tea and a bag of chocolate-covered kruidnoten.