I have been resisting the dreaded January diet. It’s my birthday month in case I haven’t already bleated on about it enough. Essentially I want to pretend Christmas didn’t happen with its supersized mugs of boozy hot chocolate, mince pies at 9am and late night bags of smokey salted almonds. I was a committed festive eater. I am now unsurprised to find the waistband of my jeans tugging, hurting even. So I need to pull back a little. I am of an age where weight is just still coming off quickly and easily. I know I am on borrowed time. Soon my metabolism will slow and I’ll have to be sensible. Until that time, well, you’ll find me doing my usual nonsense of being a piglet and then eating like a Parisian. READ MORE