Shoving the pie, hot cross bun and crisps into my bag, I quickly paid for my petrol and hurried back out to the car. My lunch yet again was food hastily bought from a garage as I drove between my calls in my work as a carer. Of course I could have opted for a healthier salad, but at 19st and 5ft 7in, I had been a comfort eater for decades and it was hard to change.
I reasoned that as I was always on the go and didn’t have any health problems, I must be fine. But my shift patterns didn’t
