Ah, I spot a raspberry. That's one of 5 sorted!

I have been feeling a little sluggish of late. Ok, whom am I kidding? I am feeling A LOT sluggish. Blobbish. I am the Blobb. Poke me in the stomach and see the wobbles reaching a 6 on the Richter scale.

This is not about losing weight, or about a late New Year’s resolution. I just happened to realise that my diet has been rather poor lately. Let me put my chocolate digestive down and tell you what my daily diet looks like:

It’s buttered bagels for breakfast, beans on toast for lunch and a colourful variety for biscuits in the afternoon. And if I am unlucky, it’s sandwiches for dinner, too. With that much breadish stuff in my stomach, there is hardly any space to cramp in ‘5 a day’.

On a luckier day, I’ll cook something fairly healthy for dinner. But cooking twice a day? I don’t have the time, the energy or the urge to do so. After all, I have to look after a blog baby.

Now, you say, why don’t you cook up big batches of healthy vegetable dishes, divide them into single portions and throw them into the freezer? The thing is, I did. My freezer is actually so full with frozen healthy stuff that we could sit out the remote damages of a nuclear attack in our basement.

The problem is the de-freezing. By the time the rock-hard food has melted I am starved and little L has finished her lunch, eager to get one with whatever I distracted her from in the first place.

I tried sharing meals with little L – not only is everything on mummy’s plate much more interesting than what is on her plate; also is her food much healthier than mine. (Baby’s better dressed and better fed than mother. Do you we see a pattern emerging here?) Going down the Hipp route was out of question. So we went for Cow & Gate baby spaghetti. The verdict? Well, it didn’t kill me. But I don’t have to have it again, thank you very much.

My current and only cure: Innocent Veg Pots. Theoretically, they come in seven different flavours. But my local supermarket stocks only two of them. Of which only one is to my taste. So please, dear Waitrose, extend your offer. I don’t want to be forced to choose between being jaundiced by daal curry or turning into the Blobb.