The morning before....

For a couple of months now I have been very VERY sensible about eating and consuming DRINK . . . all blown in one day of festivities.
Carnaval started with lavish meat fest as film reveals. 8.00 in the morning. Chorizo, slabs of bacon, sausages oozing in grease, white bread, bits of preserved duck fat, and as much hearty red wine you could shake a 'carabène' at.
Mark turned slightly pale and headed off home to eat some hippy food; I waded in and tested the fare.
After a few blanquettes and chardonnays on the tour of the cafés it was time for a very late lunch. I did avoid the fois gras, not for any particular reasons of animal ethics, (which were by that time rather shredded) but because I remember last year feeling somewhat . . . close to death by the time we had to hit the square again.
Gambas, followed by magret de canard, which was delicious. Not a vegetable in sight except for a wilting leaf next to the gambas. Tiramasu. Hot chocolate as I have given up coffee . . . ugh.
Oh, let me sleep, but no, we all created massive group indigestion by dancing around to carnival tunes, and then it was time to go out again.
More chardonnay, pastis, etc, although I did pad it all out with evil WATER. 'It rusts you', people said, but I really didn't want to visit memories of lying in bed, groaning and watching the Waltons as I was unable to change channels (the days before remotes).
After the tour, back in café, lots more jiggling, getting quite entertaining now with people standing on chairs singing about having no trousers on and then adding visuals.
Fancied a small fruit salad, or a perhaps even a whole sun dried tomato canapé (not a sofa), but instead there was a vast array of fois gras on toast, duck bits, white bread rolls, sausage rolls, brie, chorizo and jambon du pays. Decided to start blanquette diet on the spot, and joined in with more carnival jiggling - YMCA and even Plastic Bertrand?!
Only one member of our group pushed the satin-covered boat out a little too far. Although quite slight in frame, and having drunk several months worth of Ricard over the day, he did still manage to perform, with the odd lurch into the crowd; then back at the café he became strangely fixated with asking me what the translation of: "Oo, aa, will you be my girl" was in French.
Off out again for the 10.00 p.m tour, pushing our stomachs before us, more wine, pastis, etc etc,
then back to burn the carnival effigy. Was rather relieved to find we were not going to eat onion soup at 1.30 in the morning, which I have done with another band before.
Home.
Today, have gained seemingly 2 kilos.
Back to the pumkin seeds, veg etc, but will enjoy that culinary departure again next year.