For every morning we stayed with Valentin, he and his French bulldog came knocking with this wild tray of wholly homemade, Corsican dreams.
Since early February this year, I had been successfully sustaining a gluten-free vegan diet to offset the lethargy that came with a stomach that didn't appreciate
Corsica is when I broke. On the dairy and gluten, anyway.
Dammit, I broke.
My primary rationale was that had I not, I would have had to survive the morning on fruit and orange juice - surely not ample for the amount of swimming and walking we were doing. And, while I did suffer the consequences ever so slightly a few hours on, my body was in a happy place, under just about zero stress (Alex had confiscated my laptop and email account, so I really had no choice in the matter), and thus more or less fine.
Of course, being three-times jetlagged, trying to get through mid-semester exams and trying to pull together a 700-person sitdown dinner this Friday night, I would certainly not be able to pull off this anti-petit dejeuner without being exceptionally unwell for most of the day... which speaks volumes to my lifestyle. Whoops.*
Anyway. I'm going to stop talking about food and go for a run.
Moral of the story: breakfast is important. Please don't skip it.
* meanwhile, I'm almost completely back to being vegan... almost...