My first meeting in the morning is at a Gentlemen's Club in Mayfair. No that's not a strip joint.

Unfortunately, I arrived 45 mins early for the meeting and non members can only enter with a member. Member being the operative word.

I opted to cross the street and have breakfast in a little French boulangerie. There was nothing French about it other than the name. The bread was made in a rustic bakery in Camden, and the staff were either Eastern European or Eastern European, and they all looked like they had graduated from Hooters (whatever that is).

Olga took my order, I decided to listen to my trainer for once and not order the pastries, but opted for smoke salmon and scrambled eggs. Being a temptress, Olga asked me what bread I would like with my breakfast and if I wanted it toasted or not.

She must have been trained in food ordering ninja double speak, she didn't ask if I wanted bread or not. She was good, a natural bread saleswoman / pusher. It was at this point myself control should have kicked in, and I should have said, "I know what your trying to do bitch, load me up with carbs, but I am not having it."

Instead I found myself asked for granary toast, in the vain hope that she would be wowed with my healthy option choice. I spent the next 20 mins crunching through over cooked, super thin toast, at first I thought all the crunching noise was confined to my mouth, but the occasional turned head from across the restaurant told me otherwise. There is toast, and then there is dry crackers.

Next time I will just become a member of the club, it will be healthier.