ALEXANDRA SHULMAN’S NOTEBOOK: My battle to resist bacon butties – and skinny jabs

Over the past week, I spent a few days in Cornwall with a close friend.

We took lovely walks, had a dip in the sea, and since she’s an excellent cook, I wolfed down the delicious meals she prepared day and night.

But while she ate only half her plate of linguine made with local crab, I had three helpings. When faced with a bowl of taco chips and houmous, she would slowly toy with about six while I gobbled all the rest.

The reason for her restraint? She’s on Mounjaro.

Spending time with someone on weight-loss medication highlights one’s own deficient behaviour when it comes to food.

Our different attitudes to how we ate were in high definition. It became very obvious that I have no stop valve on my intake, unlike her. I don’t eat because I’m hungry but because the food is there.

So, the fat-jabbers have become lethal feeders to the rest of us. They will bring out a packet of Maltesers and munch only a few.

They will blithely suggest toast, bagels, a bacon buttie – all things I do my best to steer clear of at home, where I am relatively good about limiting carbs.

As a long-standing jab-denier, I had my eyes peeled for the negatives but couldn’t find many. She’s happier with the substantially reduced weight she is now and is able to allow herself a guilt-free piece of toast at breakfast.

In the light of all this, why don’t I want to take Mounjaro, or any other weight-loss drug?

I would like to be a little slimmer – that half a stone that never budges – and I would very much like to be the one who suggests ‘chips for the table’ but only eats a couple.

Instead, I’m the person who says I won’t eat chips and then hoovers up most of those someone else orders.

But the other side of me, the stubborn side perhaps, likes to think what I do is not controlled by a substance and especially one whose long-term side effects have not yet been assessed.

I understand this is not logical: I have to take medication of various kinds, post-cancers, and I accept this, albeit unwillingly.

And I have taken Prozac for 20-odd years to keep incipient panic and low mood at bay. My body is by no means a pharmaceutical-free temple.

Yet, even after spending time with my skinny friend, I’m still not tempted to go down the Mounjaro route.

I don’t want to add any more medication than absolutely necessary to my life and body just to get into a smaller dress size.

Inconvenient as it may be to have to wage a battle against greedy behaviour, it’s my battle and I kind of like that I am in charge of it rather than leaving the work to yet another liquid or pill clogging up the bathroom cabinet.

Even if that means the bread basket will always remain a lethal temptation.

There’s life in the old sea dogs yet

A Russian frigate firing warning shots at Jane and Alan Kelvey’s yacht in the Channel has added grist to my long-held theory about people who own boats.

It’s not only bobbing about on the waves they enjoy, but the element of risk and possible drama involved.

A trip where everything goes according to plan is not nearly as enjoyable as one where the sailor has triumphed over adversity.

And has a great story – hence the Kelveys’ broad smiles as they recounted the incident to the BBC, saying: ‘We don’t want World War Three to start because of this.’

I’m sure their encounter with a warship was no fun at the moment it happened, but it has provided a gripping anecdote they can share for years with other seafarers over a pint.

No one else’s tale of failing to be able to anchor or the AIS tracking system going on the blink mid-ocean will ever match their hair-raising experience.

Barbie bags make the Wags look twee

Security restrictions at the World Cup have resulted in this year’s Wags being allowed only tiny handbags at the games.

I thought back to the snaps of the menfolk as they boarded their plane to the US a few weeks back, laden with massive designer holdalls – yes, that’s you Ollie Watkins with your giant taupe Hermes Birkin and Ezri Konsa with your limited edition red and white monogram Louis Vuitton tote.

There was a kind of magnificence to that kit while their womenfolk have been left to be photographed with their twee and infantilising accessories, like Megan Pickford’s doll-size Lady Dior mini bag.

All Andy will alter is the dress code

I’d been waiting for the result of the Makerfield by-election and now that Andy Burnham has stormed home with a massive share of the vote, things may well change.

Not necessarily our policy on Net Zero nor, sadly, the punishing taxation levels on anyone earning a decent income, or with any savings, has to bear – but the male dress code.

Burnham could be our first Prime Minister to junk the suit. House of Commons rules dictate that a jacket must be worn, but not a suit or tie.

Burnham is known for his supremely relaxed look – crew-neck T-shirts, unstructured jackets, even, somewhat ill-advisedly, the odd cardigan.

Now he’s heading for Westminster and likely to challenge the suit-wearing PM, it’s going to be interesting to see whether front bench dressing will change.

If a PM rocks a white T-shirt and deck shoes, will his cohort all be heading to Uniqlo for their autumn wardrobe?

Now it’s time for a truce with Meghan

As a fairly consistent Meghan-basher over recent years, the news that she is coming to the UK with the family later this summer has made me realise I need to zip it.

We have to give her a chance. There are enough real wars taking place in the world and if she and Harry want to call a truce, that’s great news and something we should encourage.

Only the grouchiest of us would not welcome the idea of the King being able to meet his grandchildren – Archie, seven, and Lilibet, five – and hopefully reunite with his second son.