Flapjack

Today I start a food diary for my trainer - a way of making sure I am eating the right things to prepare for the Edinburgh marathon later this year and of helping lose the extra spare tyre on the way. I have a sneaking suspicion that this, my favourite current indulgence, will be banned. Oats, sugar and lard, so heavy the plate bends when you pick it up, sometimes so gooey there's a perfectly formed square of grease on the plate when finished. And the size of a medium housebrick.

I'll miss you, canteen work flapjack.