recommend the Blackford Diet to anyone except hardened masochists and the criminally insane. By next month, of course, I may feel different.
of girl’s blouse version of the Atkins Diet. I’m talking about the real Atkins – not the diet pioneered by my college friend Dave Atkins, who, at 21, was voted by the Junior Common Room ‘Man Least Likely To Make 30’. Dave was the inventor of the legendary
, to drag me up the high kerbs.I was beginning to wonder whether the secret of achievement in athletics was gross excess. Listening to some old pros at the Lanzarote Challenge last year, they seemed to train on a diet of Guinness and curry.Dyer remember
-increasing knackeredness. Soon, merely putting on my shoes was enough to exhaust me. I weighed myself. I was the heaviest I’d ever been. I embarked upon a virtually fat-free diet: tuna and baked potatoes, obscure leaves and roots, soya, pale, thin milk like blood
rumba contest (I said, don’t ask) and switching to a diet of seeds, berries and small stones. Simultaneously, I shall be embarking upon a programme of fasting, yoga and meditation. But really, I’m pinning my hopes on a stringent regime of physical
