In a bit of a pickle. Erm, I mean jam.

Q: How does Bob Marley like his donuts?

A: Wi' jammin!

Although latest research shows he actually preferred custard but this fact was deliberately distorted by joke writers for comedic effect.

Today's blog is all about jam (as in the sweet, sticky stuff that comes out of a jar (but is not honey), not as in an assembled group of musicians improvising random tunes nor as in a long line of cars full of irate motorists). And for those of you who think I over complicate simple explanations, screw you (as in the politer version of 'fuck you', not as in turn you round and around until you seal a bottle of lemonade).

So anyway, there I was browsing my way through Twitter one day, only to stumble across a cry for help from the Janner Jam company. They were stuck on 666 followers and, unless they quickly gained another, very bad demonic things would surely happen to them.

Naturally I went and changed into my special superhero outfit (which is admittedly rather snug nowadays and in need of a good wash to remove some dubious stains) before clicking on the 'Follow' button and becoming their 667th follower. Suddenly the dark clouds had passed and the sun shined on their little jam factory once again.

If they could have done, I suspect they would have hoisted me aloft their shoulders and paraded me around their town like the saviour I was. Although given that the town is Plymouth, they may well have then sacrificed me to some sea god and shared my charred body parts among the hungry townsfolk.

Thankfully, instead of this grand parade, my reward was a jar of their strawberry jam. Let me just write that down again to make sure you understand. I followed someone on Twitter and in return, they sent me jam. Actual, real life, leave-the-lid-off-and-wasps-and-bees-will-come-and-attack-you-for-it jam. How super flipping amazing is that!?

Amazing that is, unless of course, the jam tastes disgusting. However, I'm pleased to report that the jam is actually properly gorgeous.

As a lover of both toast and cream teas, I'm au fait with many different flavours and brands of jam. Unlike with most things, I really do know what I'm talking about. And I can honestly say that Janner's Strawberry jam is right up there with the very best. In fact, if my local supermarket stocked it, I'd forego my usual choices of Tiptree or Bon Maman and definitely buy a whopping great jar of Janner's.

It has a delightfully sweet taste, but which doesn't overpower the actual flavour of the strawberries themselves. It's also got just the right consistency and texture and spreads nicely without then trying to slide off of its carrier. It's like some kindly old relative who has spent their entire life perfecting the art of jam making, has sent you a jar of their finest work.

In summary - it tastes bloody lovely and has inspired me to go and buy some crumpets. Check out their website to taste for yourself (after purchasing your own jar that is - don't lick your computer or phone screen as that will just taste like a mixture of dust and your fingers).

And if anyone would like to send me some crumpets to review, please feel free to send them on.

The same goes for anyone who owns a Mercedes garage, a video game shop or an escort agency (as in ladies whom one pays by the hour for their 'company', not as in the ropey old predecessor to the Ford Mondeo) - feel free to send me your product samples too.

Food for thought

This morning I caught sight of my naked self in the mirror. My reflection made me gasp.

"Gee whiz, am I really that big? Wow, it's colossal! I should probably take a photo and show it to people I want to impress."

Alas, the part of me that was proudly standing there all massive and gargantuan was my belly. I knew it had expanded over the past year or two, but today was the day it dawned on me that I really ought to do something about it.

It looks as if I'm expecting some kind of mammal. As much as I'd enjoy to hear the pitter patter of baby elephant feet trotting around my house, I suspect the birthing process would be really too painful (are they born with tusks? Yikes!).

Those of you who know me will be aware that I do have a particular fondness for cake. It would appear that my love affair with Mr Kipling has, despite being as careful as possible, finally resulted in me being impregnated with his cake baby. Whilst a litter of Battenbergs would be brilliant, eating one's own young is something that I could never do - not even for some delicious, succulent marzipan. Mmmmm...marzipan.

So it's time to say enough is enough Mr K! I'm going to have to start a new relationship with Ry Vita.

Funnily enough, being fat is something that I've absolutely revelled in up until now. Let me explain.

For twenty years I've suffered with Crohn's disease which in case you don't know, is an inflammatory bowel disease that can affect any part of the digestive system.

This arrived literally on my 18th birthday (worst fucking present, ever) and has caused me varying amounts of trouble in the intervening 20 years, some of it extremely severe.

For a long period of this time, I was essentially just skin and bone. Doctors encouraged to eat as much as possible to try and gain some weight, but inevitably when you have poorly guts, absorbing the nutrients just doesn't happen. In fact, eating too much could cause overload, stomach ache and ultimately cause more harm than good.

Thankfully, in more recent times, things have stabilised and putting on weight has not been a problem. The mindset I've had since I was 18 was that I could eat as much as I wanted of anything and, so long as it didn't cause my stomach to get sore, there were no consequences to this. In many ways it was wonderful!

When I was weighed at my last hospital appointment and found to have a BMI of 26 (ie one point into the overweight category), I was cock-a-hoop! After years of struggling to get past 9 stone, I was up to 12 and feeling tons better for it. What would have caused most people to feel despondent, made me feel very proud indeed.

I'm actually not too bothered by weights and measures. What I think is more important is how you feel. I think it's quite easy to tell whether you're really overweight or not just by paying attention to your feelings. I've no idea what my weight is currently and I won't be measuring it going forward. What I'm aiming to do, is get back to a place where I feel well again. If this technically means I'm still overweight, I don't care - I know it's right for me.

Now it's time to break my long entrenched habit of being able to eat whatever I want without consequence, and get back into a regime with a more considered diet. I'm not planning on going crazy, or even giving anything up as such. I'm just going to try and eat a bit less (cutting out third helpings will surely benefit) and do a bit more, developing a new set of habits that will help sustain a healthy weight, rather than a situation where I fluctuate between extremes.

I'm not helped by some of the medication that I take for the Crohn's. It has the dual effect of sometimes causing a ferocious appetite, and also water retention. As much as I'd like to blame this for my current shape, I know that's it's far from the whole story, but it is a factor.

Basically I know that I need to be kind to myself during the adjustment process and let things happen at their own pace. As I write this, I'm thoroughly looking forward to a lovely picnic with Jessington Cupcake and Keira Husky tomorrow. And let's be honest, I'll probably also have an ice cream. But this will be a special occasion treat rather than something to be done everyday (as much as I would like that).

I will blog occasionally about my progress with all this. It will be interesting to see how it goes. This time next week I might be crying into a giant bucket of Hoola-Hoops doused in Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream. But hopefully I'll be eating an apple and feeling all the better for it.

And no Mr Kipling, by 'apple', I certainly do not mean a couple of your gorgeous little apple pies, heated up and covered in fresh Madagascan vanilla custard. *shakes head* Definitely not. No way.

*heads off towards kitchen*