The Sunday Telegraph - Sunday - - Front Page -

Morn­ings are a melee in my house­hold. There are nap­pies to be changed (we have two chil­dren, aged three and nine months), show­ers to be had, fights over Cbeebies to be aired (“Pleeeease let me watch one more Post­man Pat,” I whine, as my other half tells me it’s time to go to work).

I find it eas­i­est to ei­ther skip break­fast or inhale what­ever hap­pens to be in the bread bin. And re­ally, that sums up my ap­proach to food at the mo­ment.

My part­ner and I are mired in the trench war­fare of early child­care: every time we think it’s safe to pop our heads over the para­pet and en­joy a well-con­structed meal, we’re hit by a vol­ley of baby vomit or a tod­dler tantrum grenade.

I look for­ward to my lunch at work as the one meal of the day that isn’t in­ter­rupted by en­emy fire. I prob­a­bly drink a bit too much, too. But then, show me a par­ent who doesn’t.


7am: slice of brown toast, but­ter and Mar­mite, black cof­fee 1pm: bowl of veg­e­tar­ian chilli from Tor­tilla: rice, beans, pep­pers, salsa, gua­camole, cheese, sour cream 4pm: flat white 7pm: bowl of home­made veg­etable dal, two slices of bread and but­ter


7am: black cof­fee, hot cross bun 1.30pm: falafel wrap with salad 3pm: flat white 7pm: two fish fin­gers, chips, peas 8pm-10pm: four squares of Galaxy Caramel, three gin and ton­ics (at least dou­bles; home mea­sures)

SATUR­DAY 8am: two scram­bled

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