The Daily Telegraph - 29.08.2019

FAMILY

when you haven’t been able to obtain

food for a while.”

Some believe that cutting down

calories dramatically for periods

of time boosts our cognitive

performance.

Silicon Valley types have leapt on

the bandwagon, with high-profile

fans like Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey

endorsing its benefits. Earlier this

year he tweeted that he does “a

22-hour fast daily (dinner only), and

recently did a three-day water fast”.

However, while dietitian Helen

Bond says that intermittent fasting,

or time-restricted eating, has some

good observational studies linking

it to a reduced risk of Alzheimer’s

and improved cognitive ability, a

22:2 fast is extreme.

“A 12-hour overnight fast, or

even a 16:8 one would be better.

It’s important to remember that

somebody like Jack Dorsey would

have a team of experts ensuring

his one meal a day is nutritionally

balanced. Most of us wouldn’t know

how to get everything we need,

nutritionally, in just one meal.

Rather than boosting cognitive

function, it would more than

likely cause low blood sugar

levels, grogginess and a lack of

concentration.”

Fasting for... diabetics

The evidence for fasting is strongest

with type 2 diabetics. Researchers at

Newcastle University put 11 people

with type 2 diabetes on a 600-calorie

a day diet for eight weeks, after which

time all were disease-free. Three

months on, seven were disease-free.

The team believe weight loss from

fasting reduces fat inside the liver

and pancreas, allowing the organs to

return to normal function.

“We saw most people in the

study going under the threshold for

diagnosis,” says Kelly. “The idea is to

then transfer patients back on to a

balanced diet, with exercise as well.

The most interesting thing was that

the study participants didn’t feel

as hungry or as miserable as they

expected, and quickly got used to

fasting.”

Dr Mosley, who credits fasting

for reversing his type 2 diabetes,

recommends kick-starting your

weight loss with an 800-calorie-

a-day fast, for between two and 12

weeks and then, once you’re nearing

your target, switching to a 5:2 diet.

Animal studies also show fasting

may prevent the development of

‘The participants

didn’t feel as hungry

or as miserable as

they expected’

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 21

Can it be

autumn

please?

Six signs

you are

suffering

from

summer

fatigue

I

t’s well known

that you get to

this point in the

year and find that

you are suffering

from summer

fatigue. Winter fatigue

is certainly a thing, but

that is driven by short

days, dark mornings,

mud in the house and

ice on the windscreen;

whereas summer fatigue

is to do with looking

forward to putting away

flimsy things and getting

back to normal (eg, thick

jumpers and mince). You

may flinch at the very idea

that it’s possible to tire of

summer, especially after

the glorious bank holiday

we’ve all just enjoyed, but

bear with me. Now the

weather seems to be on

the turn, darker evenings

may not be such a bad

thing, when you consider

the main culprits causing

us summer fatigue.

In no particular order...

Floral midi fatigue

Naturally, have just bought

another one in Zara (really

floral, really long, can’t go

wrong), but enough. With

Carrie Symonds and her

sell-out pink print Ghost

dress we have reached

peak floral midi. We’re

sure they’ll get plenty of

wear come June 2020 but,

for now, how nice would it

be to see the back of them?

Rosé fatigue

Let’s face it, none of us can

remember a year when

rosé has been quite such

a dominant presence in

every social situation and

we can now admit that

it has positioned itself in

a somewhat dangerous

place in the alcohol

hierarchy – just above

elderflower and soda, but

way below a white. Where

we are with rosé is, we

think it’s a seasonal drink,

so no harm overdoing it

a bit, because we’ll stop

soon enough. Drinking

rosé past a certain point

is like eating Christmas

pudding in January. At the

same time, we feel duty

bound to make the most

of it – a bit like enjoying as

much ricotta as possible

while in Sicily – and if

it’s very pale peach, then

that is a lot like drinking

Wielding

the potato

peeler to

create

another

courgette

ribbon salad

has got

boring

spritzer. When is it time

to put it away for good?

Are we still operating on a

September – unless Indian

summer – cut-off? Or, if

the weather is fabulous,

are we cracking right

through to Hallowe’en?

Fan fatigue

They lurk in corners of

every room, waiting to

trip you up. You could put

them away, but you don’t

want to go to the trouble of

doing that if there’s going

to be a freak Beast from

the South, and you never

know.

Sunglasses fatigue

You spent too much on

them in the first place on

the basis that the higher

the spec, the better for

you (you fancied yourself

in Persols). Then keeping

tabs on them/not snapping

them/not scratching the

lenses proved to be a

constant source of low-

level anxiety. Regular

specs are quite enough to

be dealing with.

Courgette ribbons fatigue

There was a time when

we were delighted to

discover another way

with courgettes, but

that was a while ago and

now wielding the potato

peeler to create another

courgette ribbon salad has

got boring. Interesting

things to do with peppers,

also getting us down, tbh.

Catch-up TV fatigue

To be fair, this isn’t

specific to summer –

but in summer you get

a monumental backlog

of Must Watch Or Be A

Social Pariah TV, because

so many people insist on

making the most of the

long days. So what started

out as useful has become

a significant dump on the

to-do list. If you say to

someone: “You have got to

watch...” They’re likely to

say “Shut up! Back Off! I’ve

just finished Derry Girls!

I’m starting on Chernobyl!

I can’t fit in This Way Up or

season three of Gomorrah

until November, so do

not tell me about Fosse /

Verdon. You’re making

me stressed.”

Bring on autumn.

MODERN LIFE

SHANE WATSON

SASHA SLATER

‘I’M PROOF THAT FASTING DIETS

WORK – AND I MADE UP MY OWN’

Doctors say “alternate day

fasting” is the best way to

lose weight, but my regime

is even simpler: I only eat

once a day.

I began in a panicked

response to weighing

myself. I had swerved the

scales for years and when

I looked down and saw the

shocking total, I realised

I had to do something.

I have dieted in various

ways all my adult life. But

I am greedy, and I love

food, so calorie counting,

or denying myself cheese

(or, worse, red wine) is

a highway to misery. On

the other hand I am not a

grazer. I can go for hours

and hours with no food.

So I resolved to play to

my strengths. I wouldn’t

cut out the carbs, or the

olive oil, or anything else,

but I would just eat once

a day. And I resolved

to weigh myself every

morning, too.

So I know that since

the fateful weigh-in

in April, I have lost

12.6kg, which is near as

dammit two stone in old

money. At first, the inches

just slithered off and I lost

5kg in a month. Since then,

it’s been slow but steady. I

use a weight-tracker app

to see how far I’ve come

and how long it will take to

hit my target. Colleagues

have done double-takes

on the escalators and then

rushed up to tell me how

nice I’m looking. Clothes

I consigned to the attic to

wait for my daughter to

grow into are back in the

wardrobe (poor daughter).

It’s a cheery process.

What’s even better is

that it has been almost no

effort at all. Dieting has

always been synonymous

with torture. But these

days, if I’m hungry at 4pm I

don’t panic – I know that at

6.30 I can have a guilt-free

slice of saucisson and a

nice glass of marcillac. And

then think about what I’ll

cook for dinner.

The other bonus to

this way of eating is that

it has minimal impact on

everyone else. If I’m at

a breakfast meeting, I’ll

have a black decaf coffee

(that, water and sugar-free

chewing gum are the only

things I consume during

fasts) and chat to whoever

I’m with as they tuck into

their granola or poached

eggs. If I can move lunch

meetings to afternoon

coffees, I will. If not, I’ll eat

a salad or some broccoli

and look forward to dinner

• though I’m hungrier if
  I eat a little lunch than
  nothing at all. It has zero
  impact on family meals
  and weekends
  with friends
  are effortless


• I’ll feast
  with you at
  supper and
  have a salad for
  lunch the next
  day and I’m not
  the one making
  boring requests
  for kimchi or
  oat milk.
  It doesn’t suit
  everyone, but it
  does suit me. I’ve
  got another 12kg to
  go but it doesn’t feel
  daunting – it feels
  doable. Because this isn’t a
  diet, it’s how I’m going to
  eat for the rest of my life.

Little effort:

for Sasha Slater,

above, eating once

a day works

GETTY; VICTORIA GACCIONE

diabetes, too, by reducing the build up

of fat around internal organs.

A study from the University of

Alabama found that pre-diabetic

patients who did early time-restrictive

eating helped ward off diabetes.

Scientists at the university found that

those who ate between 7am and 3pm

for five weeks had improved insulin

sensitivity, compared to those who ate

the same number of calories spread

out over the day.

Diabetics should always consult

their GP before beginning a fast.

For childless women

like me, dating single

fathers is a no-brainer

‘Y

ou’re mad”; “Why

would you want to

tie yourself down

like that?”; “Just have

mine!” These are the

standard responses

of my friends when I tell them that –

having recently started trying to date

again – that my top requirement in

a new partner these days is that he

must have children.

Like me, most of my friends are in

their early fifties. Unlike me, most

are parents and still in the throes

of teenage tantrums, ferrying their

children around and worrying about

parties and exam results.

As they see it, it’s bad enough when

they’re your own; I certainly shouldn’t

be trying to complicate my life with

other people’s kids. I’d be best off with

someone in a similar position to mine,

with the freedom to do as I please,

travel whenever I wish and – because

I’m not raising a family – apparently

enjoy a frivolous existence.

They see me leading a great life,

with social engagements, the ability

to indulge my passions and whims

and, most precious of all, with time

to myself. Conversely, I see my

existence as empty and utterly devoid

of anything I can truly invest in. I feel

that I have missed out on so much

already – from pregnancy cravings

to playground politics. And I know

the missing will continue beyond

that. I won’t know what it feels like

to meet and moan about first boy- or

girlfriends, go to graduations, be a

grandmother. For me, being childless

does not mean footloose, but being

trapped in a state of perpetual longing.

My friend Jane (not her real name),

who married a much older man with

young children, and wasn’t able to

have any of her own, is delighted with

how life has turned out.

“The boys were a part of our

relationship from the word go,” she

Friends envy Xenia Taliotis

for being a ‘footloose’

fiftysomething, but she

craves a ready-made family

Growing pains: at

54, Xenia Taliotis is

searching for a man

who has children

says. “They had problems with their

mother, so they moved in with us.

Admittedly, this was a shock. I was

only in my mid-twenties and suddenly

I had an eight-year-old and a 12-year-

old to look after.

“I have to say, though, that raising

the boys has been one of the most

rewarding things I’ve done. They’re

adults now, one is married and the

other lives abroad, but we’re in

constant contact and I feel totally

immersed in their lives.”

For as long as I can remember, I’ve

wanted to be a mother – ever since

I was capable of wishful thinking.

In fact, my earliest and most vivid

memory is from when I was five years

old and in the car with my family,

driving back to our house in Nicosia,

Cyprus, after visiting my dad’s sister.

“Mama, why doesn’t Aunty Ioulia

have any children? Doesn’t she like

them?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, she can’t have

them,” said my mum.

“When I grow up, I’m going to have

100 children,” I replied.

Yet, throughout my twenties and

thirties, I allowed a constant flow of

not-quite-rights to stop me from trying

to conceive: the wrong flat, the wrong

job, the wrong man, the wrong time

• a long sequence of circumstantial
  life events that, to my eternal regret,
  I allowed to override my desire for a
  child. I didn’t realise that I was letting
  opportunity pass me by. This – when
  added to my natural predisposition to
  leave anything I could do tomorrow
  until then, or maybe the day after


• has, in part, brought me to my
  childless middle age.
  But not only that.
  When I was in my mid-thirties, I
  fell in love with someone I could see
  myself growing old with. Quite soon
  after we met, he wanted a child, but at
  the time I preferred to wait. It wasn’t
  until my late thirties, with my fertility
  probably in the last chance saloon, that
  I finally felt “ready”.
  Putting any anxieties that we were
  both freelance and living in my one-
  bedroom flat aside, we decided to see
  if we could conceive. Tragically, we
  didn’t get any time to find out, because

my beautiful man collapsed on the

street with a brain aneurysm and died

in hospital just 10 weeks later.

Grief hits people in different ways.

I joined the support group WAY

(Widowed and Young) and met many

“wids” who quickly threw themselves

into new relationships. They felt the

only counterbalance to death was life,

so they went on to have children with

a new partner within months of being

bereaved. I fell into the opposite camp.

Being

childless

does not

mean

footloose,

but

trapped in

a state of

perpetual

longing

22 ***^ Thursday 29 August 2019 The Daily Telegraph

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