The evening that I truly put my diet to the sword

IT'S been a fortnight since the NHS proclaimed me too obese for surgery.

- Carrie Carlisle

Two weeks of surviving mostly on spinach and sorrow.

But I remained strong. Right up until I remembered it was date night.

Weeks ago Mr C. and I had booked a table at our favourite restaurant: Rio's in Jesmond. AKA, the meat capital of Newcastle.

Like any modern married couple, our schedules are harder to match than every random piece of Tupperware in our cupboards.

So we when we saw an opportunity to sit at the same table and break bread, sans children, we jumped at it.

Like any delusional addict, I told myself it would be fine. The tables in this particular eatery are only allocated to its diners for a maximum of an hour and a half.

How much harm could I really do to my diet in only 90 minutes?

Well loads, obviously. You know that, because you are a proper grownup has actual common sense. Unlike me. I was doomed from the moment we walked through the door.

Has anywhere ever smelled so good? I think not. Even the salad bar was giving wafts of wonder.

There were some acts that could be interpreted as premeditation on my part.