Day Two De-Tox

Not scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and strong coffee

The irony of the juice diet is you've no energy to exercise, the dog is looking forlorn as I skip her daily walk, though the storms, grey skies and relentless rain would put you off anyway. OK, it's only day two, so the energy should be back by tomorrow, it says that on the tin.

The great comfort is my neighbour, Kerry, with two small children, also back in college - in Limerick! - is doing this too. We had a smoothie breakfast together. We're going to work in our bedrooms, as far away as possible from the usual desk, where snacking is a reward.

I wrote three articles last week, including a review on a ski trip in France I did the week before, went to college every night and out all weekend, no bother.

I didn't sleep last night, with the orchard of apples, plantation of bananas and field of beetroot that's inside me.

If I had to walk to the shops now, I couldn't. But it's only 11.45, I've tidied up a review of Morlaix in Brittany, for this week's Sunday Independent, and next up is a law assignment Zzzz

New Year: Are you nearly a *New You* yet?

Lunch

How many de-toxing, juicing,  5:2ing and stonking get-fit regimes can magazines come up with? My first resolution is to ensure cost centre #2 takes all the party packs of crisps and jaffa cakes to his room. The kitchen is a danger zone, coffee, warm toast and sizzling bacon aromas waft across my work area which is way too close for comfort.

I stood for what seemed like hours watching juicer demonstrations in Brown Thomas recently, while everyone else was buying DVF wrap dresses or vertiginous Louboutins. Wish I hadn't given away the food processor I got as a wedding present, I'm sure it sliced peas and peeled grapes, but what are children for anyway? The juicer was fascinating, but too expensive, the blender beside it, a Kenwood KMix would take up less space in the kitchen. They patiently explained to me how it worked, I waited a half hour for them to find me one in the stock room, no hurry then, it’s only 300 euro to park for the afternoon. They only had it in red, I struggled with that, but i'd never get on the path of new year new you if I didn't start there and then.

This machine will be transformative, we’ll be renewed with  inspirational  soups and exotic smoothies. I stocked up on bananas, apples, celery, ginger, blueberries, pineapple and low-fat yoghurt and handed the lot to CC#2.

Children must have useful hobbies, they can never learn early enough how to peel and chop. By the time I had all the vegetables prepared for soup, the kitchen was like a compost heap. Hours later we had two delicious smoothies out of several kilos of fruit and gallons of bland vegetable soup which I managed to spoil by adding cayenne pepper to give it a kick.

That evening, to confirm I was truly on a health programme I cycled 2 miles to the pub. While out the back, I met a blonde, smoking doctor. The subject of girth somehow crept into the conversation and she told me she lost half a stone with a juice delivery programme, just three days she said. I was hooked, we lit up another one and downed more wine.

I already know I'm a new, new  me, there's loads of things I can't do anymore, tolerate late nights and loud pubs, can't watch University Challenge with the same pleasure, my brain is fried from college. Things that used to really bother me, don't. Window envelopes are top of the list, if you don't open them, no stress. Political corruption, wastage, pension overpayments and general unfairness bothers me, but there's always Twitter to give the impression that you are actually delivering your message to the offender.

In landladyhouse, my flame-haired Texan prospect found a room she could move into the very next day. I've to decide between a pretty young woman with thousands of tiny black hair plaits, doing a PhD in chemistry, a german IT specialist who’s very German and an Italian who struck me as very German. But then, I haven't brought myself to read about the Italian lodger who killed his landlord over a chess game, mainly because I was in France when it happened and I assumed it was in some crazy part of Europe. No. He's incarcerated around the corner from me.

I’ve a craving for someting that's decidedly intoxicating.

The bottles of juice arrived yesterday, I started the beetroot juice this morning and managed to get through a night in college, despite the off-license industry holding their annual awards in our dining hall, with welcoming free wine and beer as we walked in. Only 68 more hours to go.

Yes, Ma'am

Missing her friends

I've given up on the lodger interview process. It's time to let the dog decide.

I've had the Sudanese anaesthetist, weighed that up as a good idea to have a doctor in the house. He was keen, promised to sign any regulations, never heard from him again. Only today CC#2 asked if I knew that muslims are not supposed to shake hands with women, that'll be the reason; I always profer the hand in welcome, the eye contact. I could be looking for a room one day.

The Italian fella doing a PhD didn't want to leave without signing an agreement, 'give me two days to think about it',  I asked. He soon found something else. Then there was the 73-year old man who’d lost his fortune and home, he told me his life story in half an hour, I knew it wasn’t for him, I hoped he’d refuse,  he did, the distance from the bus stop was too far.

Since then, nothing but a deluge of requests from girls, I’m thinking the ban on women from the cost centers will have to go. Many are Italian doing PhDs in UCD, good for us if we’ve got such attractive learning programmes. And I love Italy, I could swap homes with their families, practice the lingo. But they're all too young; I’d inherit another child, just when I'm out of motherdom.

There's a 30-year old from South Africa who doesn't even want to see the room, her company will sponsor her, she sent a photograph, gorgeous, too like the beautiful model who died in Oscar Pistorius' home. She's with a cosmetics company, what's not to like? Too keen, and I bet she won’t want to share the cost centre's bathroom. On hold.

I reply to all of them, being very frank about the fact it isn't a fun student house-share, think of all you wouldn't want as a 22-year old in 'fun Ireland', suburbia, mum at home, who'd want that?

A flame-haired final year vet student arrived yesterday, she called me ma'am, she's from Texas, the dog was stashed in a bedroom, her bark is worse than her lick. I liked this girl, big time. Tess (the dog) has had nobody else to play with since 8 December when the entire family that shared her since she was a baby, emigrated. First it was the husband, two years ago, now his wife and three children have joined him. Tess had to put up with me and the costcentres squeezing in a bit of run with her, her girth is embarrasing, not far behind mine.

I let her out of CC#1's bedroom where she is confined while I write, as she barks the house down when anyone approaches the cul-de-sac. She and the Texan bonded, she could have her own private vet. Forget the sons; the dog rules.