A new food regime is here – complete with awful bread

THERE’S been a new outbreak of healthy eating. The poor Boy has watched pale-faced as crisps and crackers have disappeared from the snacks cupboard and have been replaced with nuts and raisins, and the fridge is crammed with fruit, fish, vegetables and pots of plain yoghurt. There’s not a sausage in sight.

My beloved bottle of whisky has been put to the side for a while and all sorts of fruit tea is back on the agenda, as is lots of water, water and more water. A large pot of something called psyllium husk has appeared. Two things you can very sure of with psyllium: it is not very pleasant and it is very effective. If you need to know more, look it up.

This new phase of environmentally and personally-friendly ingestion comes on the back of a wave of exercise. There has been gyming, running, dog walking and lots of swimming. Even The Boy, after the best part of a year in The Dark Place (his bedroom), emerged a couple of weeks back and announced: “I think I might start going to the gym.”

To say this was a surprising announcement would be an understatement. So once Mrs Martin and I had got back up off the floor, we discussed the why, when, what and where of the pronouncement and developed a plan. The Boy’s gym journey has begun. Exercise is not a new thing, but our even-moreenthusiastic embracing of raising the heart rate has been a direct response to the confines of lockdowns, and coronavirus restrictions. If you live in the middle of a city and all the pubs, restaurants, shops, theatres and cinemas are shut, the only reason to go out is to exercise. It becomes healthy habit forming.

The Boy has always been a gamer, and as such can spend a lot of time in his room. While it appears he is alone, in fact he’s in touch with all his fellow gamers 24/7. So, once last year’s college course became entirely online, The Dark Place became bedroom, classroom, and social meeting place. There was no reason to come out at all, other than to eat. That can be not-so-healthy habit forming. Fortunately ever since summer really began The Boy and his mates have been out and about, and the gym shocker has either been self or peer-led, definitely not because of any paternal pressure.

We’ve done a couple of sessions together, and already you can see the signs; brighter eyes, a fresher face, standing just a tiny bit taller. He’s not gone the whole hog though and is not on the super-healthy eating train. News that he is welcome, in fact encouraged, to eat as many chips from the freezer as he wants has been taken full advantage of, and there are more than a few takeaway delivery drivers who are familiar with our address.

He has also joined me in joint condemnation of a horrendous food item that has appeared in the house. The object purports to be bread, but is clearly made without any of the things that make bread delicious. It is very dark brown, extremely heavy, and very dense. Both The Boy and I are bread aficionados. I still dream about the bread that used to come from the bakery in Witheridge all those years ago, and the one sure way to get him out of his room in lockdown was to bring a freshly baked loaf into the house.

I’ll tackle almost any bread, and have always found a good toasting and lots of butter the key to making even ordinary bread pretty delicious.

But this. This thing in the house can’t be saved. We’ve been trying not to throw any food away but right now I’m feeling conflicted.