That's right, I'm talking ice-cream, my second (yes dear) true love.

I can get downright preachy while pontificating on a lifestyle of health by eating only natural things from mother nature's grocery store. I do my utmost to obtain natural ingredients, to keep out as much salt and sugar from my diet. I work hard to eat my veggies, and when I don't want to, my wife 'helps' (forces) me. I'm on the road to a better future, and only one roadblock stands in the way . . . my crack-style addiction to ice-cream. And frozen yoghurt, sorry, forgot about that one - a perfectly just as great delicacy it is, oh yes, frozen yoghurt.

How I yearn for thee. Why can't you be as healthy as my other culinary loves?!? Why hast thou forsaken me in my quest for living the good and healthy life?

Seafood . . . I absolutely love seafood. Thankfully, the shrimp, lobster (once in a while, maybe even tonight as the idea has been seeded), oysters, scallops, fish . . . they are all quite healthy. I mean, I feel good after eating them, if you know what I mean (nudge nudge, wink wink). But my dreaded nemesis, ice-cream . . . no matter how much I try to rationalise the detrimental physical (and let's face it - spiritual, as well) effects, I just keep coming back for more.

Strange, twisted, wretched domestic scenes of violence have occurred in my homestead. My wife and I have wrestled in the kitchen, a large tub of frozen yoghurt between us, with both of us laughing (but with that undercurrent of consternation and determination to get one's own way) at the other. Like a sad basketball scrum gone wrong, where suddenly, as if in a dream, you realise that the tenacious Iverson has somehow managed to squeeze out the ball from Shaq's grip. Elbows fly akimbo as a foul-inducing headlock and wrestling move are administered. Oh, don't you worry now, and don't get me wrong - Shaq always wins. But Iverson is a feisty little bugger . . . and he bites!

As the other combatant leaves the arena in a huff, I hug my bowl of the creamy frozen treat, my guilty prize. The delicious sensation of the cold on my tongue, gently lolling it's way in my mouth as the consistency changes from solid to liquid. Like a child's science experiment, it's bloody science taking place here, serious business! Sweet, sugary, cool, creamy, and touched with the delicate flavours of that particular container . . . coffee flavoured, french vanilla and walnut, cookie dough, mint chocolate, egg nog (once a year), maple, butterscotch ripple, vanilla almond, and the lip-tremble inducing flavours from the H-D family - chocolate chip cookie dough, rocky road, banana split, that one with monkey in the title . . . (sigh) . . I mix it up in the bowl, inducing memories of when littlestar and I were kids. Spoon in hand, moving in a circular motion, agitating the contents like a furious chef whipping eggs. It changes form once again, into some kind of very smooth, pudding-like substance . . . this is my Valhalla dessert.

The fridge and freezer are a little empty right now, but we go shopping tonight, and I have already thrown down the gauntlet, and texted the wife: we will have lobster this eve.

When she's not looking, I'll mosey over to the frozen dessert aisle and surreptitiously place the icy grail into the cart, probably hidden underneath the foliage of chinese lettuce and broccoli.

Let the ice chips fall where they may!