Good morning from Costa Coffee in King’s Cross.
The imposing Victorian edifice across the street is the train station housing Platform 9-3/4 . (For you muggle/nomaj types, that’s the London terminus of the Hogwarts Express.)
The coffee in the foreground is an iced Americano. After a wholesome breakfast of oats, almond butter, and whey protein, my stomach is returning to normal.
The dirty vodka martini at the Henrietta Bar was way off plan, the Balthazar salmon and lentils slightly less so, and the asparagus was spot on. In all, I kept to my macro nutrients and calories, but fats were a bit high on the day.
I woke in the middle of the night not feeling well for the first time since starting training. Was it jet lag? Was the food off? Was it the meal? Or was it the first alcoholic beverage in two months?
I am assuming all of the above. I am resolving to be done with the booze and sticking to plan. Clearly, my metabolism is changing, I think for the better.
I miss having a kitchen…
There is no better taste in the world than the taste of smoked salmon at 30,000 feet. Talk about comfort food…