Leaning tower of soup

Thank goodness I managed a troley dash around the supermarket this afternoon, otherwise we'd be eating stale bread sandwiches for our Christmas meal. I arrived late on hoping to miss the crowds. No such luck, the aisles were packed with families panic buying like the whole town was going into lockdown for a month. Helpfully the supermarket had created an unusual maze like effect by dividing one wide aisle into two, by partitioning it with bakery products, nuts and clementines. Twice I saw near festive carnage as overloaded trolleys negotiated the slim corridors and stressed shoppers. One lady went flying into a leaning tower of soup cans, sustaining a few bumps, bruises and a battered turkey. I managed to remain calm throughout the duration and came away with everything I needed except for custard powder, which I forget every year. Merry Christmas folks! Have fun.

Clean

I spent most of today cleaning up. Fortunately for me the flat only needs a good clear out once a year and I tend to save this annual grot slot to the week before Christmas. My daughter has suggested that I clean up once a month, which she says would save me time at the end of the year. I think she was just a bit peeved about finding my collection of toe nail clippings behind the bathroom sink when she dropped her electric toothbrush the other week. Anyway this morning I set about my chores, sporting my scruffs, pink rubber gloves and wealding a large bottle of disenfectant. I didn't stop until I came across a hair ball so thick it practically had a pulse. After half an hour's deliberation on how to remove the offending item without touching it. I decided to use my daughter's straighteners, turned off, which of course was the moment she walked through the door. As I lurched forward with the giant ball of hair she screamed causing me to drop it and for it to scuttle off. Perhaps it wasn't a hair ball after all!

Top Knot

On my day off last week I decided to escape the Christmas shoppers and pop into the cafe where my daughter works. It was absolutely heaving but luckily I managed to bag a seat at the back of the cafe, perfect for people watching. I am rather backward in the style stakes, but I do like to observe the some what strange tendencies of women when it comes to fashion. Last year every other lady seemed to be sporting those ghastly big slipper boots, that often wore down on the inside of the sole giving the wearer an unsightly rickets like gait when they walked. This year lots of women were wearing black quilted belted jackets with a gold logo on the chest or the hairstyle my daughter calls a 'top-knot'. It got me wondering, if you chopped off all the top-knots in Preston and lined them up side by side how far would they stretch. My estimate would be to London and back. What do you think?

Preston's windiest corner

This week's weather has been a wild and thrilling mix of rain, hail, wind and snow. Surely the test for any precipitation device. The other afternoon I nipped out for a Christmas tree shaped donut and was caught in a weather vortex at the foot of the outdoor market. No sooner than you could say 'discount supermarket' I was spun round like a whirling dervish careering towards a six foot high window. Thankfully the wheels of an elderly person's shopper stopped me in my tracks and I was back on course again. As I pootled my way down Orchard Street, grasping at what was left of my umbrella, it got me thinking, umbrella manufacturers would be wise to send their brollies up to us Prestonians for testing.

Gifts

Well festive friends if you're stuck for gift ideas for older friends and relatives might I suggest you stroll on down to Friargate. On my way to work the other morning I noticed the Adult Shop are doing Christmas Gift Vouchers. What a super idea! Get them what they really want this Christmas.

Shock, Horror, Despair

Got a huge shock earier this evening when I reached down to untangle a load of computer cables only to find a whacking great spider nestling amongst them. After I had calmed myself down with a cup of sweet herbal tea, and phoned my daughter's boyfriend to remove the eight legged fiend, I started thinking about the other nasty surprises I have received recently. Maggots in an old biscuit tin at work, yes it's true that particular packet of custard creams had been languishing there for over a year but no one saw fit to tell me until I'd had one with my morning tea and then discovered the maggots. Next disconcerting moment discovering a baby slug on the underside of my salad in a fancy restaurant. Well to be precise half a baby slug, sorry slug lovers. Thankfully I managed to keep it down, despite feeling very queasy. And finally dog pooh on my shoe half way through a romantic date earlier last week. Well I say romantic, if you can count the stench of dog dirt and mutual shoe checking amongst the night's tender moments. It certainly has been a month of shocking encounters.

Malfunction

The devil is in the details they say, well this morning he'd shunted himself over to the photocopy room. The day had been going so well, the train was on time, the team were upbeat and I'd even wangled tomorrow morning off work. Then it all started going so horribly wrong. I fed a ream of paper into the copier to produce fifty two page double sided stapled documents and stepped back to a reception full of people. I was swiftly signing everyone in for this morning's advice session when wham! One of legal secretaries from upstairs came screaming down the corridor, yelping something about an urgent document and a copier malfunction. I calmly excused myself from reception to tend to the copier. All was not alright, the original document had jammed and the machine was spewing one sided copies. Hundreds of copies carpeted the floor, I pressed cancel but nothing happened. I tried again and again but it was to no avail. The room was being filled with useless copies, pages that could only be used for scrap pads. Absolutely no use to anyone, except bored volunteers working out their benefits money. With the legal secretary and my team leader now hovering by the door I took drastic action, rolled my sleeves and got down on my hands and knees. I looked at the advice by the socket 'DO NOT UNPLUG', I knew the consequences but it was my only option. I pulled the plug, the machine ground to a halt. The legal secretary broke the silence with a shrill request to copy her document. I shook my head and suggested she use the copier at the newsagents over the road. The hulking piece of useless machinery will be switched off until tomorrow when I come in on my morning off and see to it being reprogrammed. Great.

Contraptions

My digi-box has been overheating again causing the TV to cut out midway through Country File. Not so bad when it's a Matt Baker item but I can't accept it when the lovely Clare Balding is presenting. So to prevent it happening again and the unnnecessary expense of buying a new one I've built a digi-box cooling contraption. It's basically a fan propped up on two telephone directories. All I have to do is point the fan at the digi box and switch it on at the critical time, usually at the best bit of the programme. It got me thinking of other money saving contraptions I have built over the years. I once sellotaped four brightly coloured feather dusters together and stuck them to a ceiling corner to stop a particularly industrious spider repeatedly weaving webs in the same space over and over, despite me dusting them away every other day. Did it stop him? Not sure, he was found dead by a plant pot the following week. I also used seven of my late grandad's old string vests to build a rather natty trellis for the back garden, it sagged somewhat in the rain but was cheaper than going to B&Q. Have you ever built any money saving contraptions for the home?

Friendship

My daughter was at a festival all weekend with her boyfriend. I was home alone all weekend. By Saturday I was scrolling through my mobile phone contacts looking for some company. I ended up deleting three quarters of the numbers, they were either old work mates I hadn't heard from for years, disasterous dates or old mates who had let me down. My old mucker Tony McNamara being one of them, since he ran off with my Ex, and Duncan Blackhorn who did me out of a few thousand quid pretending to be an online lovely who needed money. I also deleted my Ex, I can't believe she was still on there seeing as we split a good few years ago but I think I kept her number to hand to forewarn me not to answer the phone to a barrage of insults. So after a mass cull I was left with several take away numbers and just a handful of people. My windy, posh friend Piers, my daughter and my recent ex-girlfriend Meryl who still calls me from time to time out of guilt. Next thing you know I'll be blowing up balloons, drawing faces on them and pretending I've got a few mates round. Something tells me I need to widen my circle of friends

Bubble

My local community centre has started up an early morning Bend and Snap class. I've not been sleeping properly of late so instead of staring at my bedroom ceiling I thought I'd use the opportunity to get in shape. At a sprightly 6am I don my loose fit tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt and head down for some energising stretches and sun salutations. Surprisingly it's rather busy in the morning, mainly with older folk. My Dad keeps reminding me the older one gets the less they need to sleep. I hope this isn't true as I quite like a lie in now and again and a life with out snuggling back down under the covers must be a miserable one. It's one of my small pleasures! That and sardine toasties.
So we woke ourselves up with a combination of stretches, hand claps and tai chi. Very relaxing. So much so I left the class on another planet and headed to work in a blissful haze. I circulated about the office in a bubble of contentment all morning until I was caught totally unaware and shredded my Team Leader's agenda for her next meeting. To say she wasn't happy is perhaps an understatement and I was soon brought back down to earth with an angry exchange in the photocopy room. When I tried to explain the benefits a morning exercise class could bring to her day I thought she was about to spontaneously combust and promptly made a hasty exit to the coffee room. Some people just don't know how to look after their health.

Zombie

I stumbled around the office this morning like a drunken zombie, spilling the Team's morning tea and generally fudging everything I came into contact with. Now I don't know about you but I am shocking when I haven't had my full eight hour quota of sleep. When I worked the late shift at Portland Hospital Radio I was able to counteract sleep deprivation with a power nap before I went on air. Since the demise of my show - more about that another time - I have been able to reset my body clock back to normal. That was until the early hours of this morning. I awoke to the sound of shuffling at my front door, then what sounded like letters being delivered. Thinking we had an over eager postman I turned over and snuggled back down. But the sound continued beyond what is normal for a morning postal delivery, it went on for a full five minutes. Shuffle, shuffle, drop, drop. I reached for my watch, 4.45am, not the hour of the postman. He generally stops by a good six hours later than that. Feeling slightly unsettled I pulled on my dressing gown and went to investigate. Creeping out of my bedroom and glancing into my hall I saw the evidence. Lying on the carpet was a crushed boxes of herb teas, old newspapers and Christmas cards I'd only just got round to throwing out. A strange someone had been posting my recycling back through my letterbox. I wonder who it could be?

Back like a Bad Smell

After a rather unsavoury incident involving an overly amorous pensioner my daughter has stopped cleaning windows in her swimwear. Thank god! To tide her over she has taken part time work at a cafe in town. By some strange twist of fate who should stop by for malted coffee? It was She of the Acid Tongue aka my Ex or the woman my daughter calls 'mum'. You may think it is nothing out of the ordinary but let me tell you that woman only calls on my lovely girl if there is money to be requested or an insult to be slung in my direction. And today was no exception. After teary plea for money she then went onto verbally assassinate me stopping only to knock back the sugary dregs of her coffee cup. How do I know that finer detail? Because my daughter used the gap in her mother's terrible tirade to escape to the kitchen. I fear this may not be the last we hear from that awful woman.

Weekend

Forgot to set my alarm on Saturday night and woke on Sunday to the sound of the smoke detector in the kitchen. Like most men my daughter's boyfriend struggles with multi tasking, very often trying and failing to make breakfast and use the bathroom at the same time. No sooner than you can say 'bodily evacuation' he has burned the toast and stunk out the bathroom. That is why I like to wake early, even at weekends, so I can be up and out before he makes an appearance. In a hazy state I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom, half asleep I washed and reached for deodrant to spray about me and the room to mask the funk of bodily gases and suchlike. The can was empty. My daughter's boyfriend no doubt to blame. I had no choice but to reach for a dusty old can behind the toilet and spray air freshner all over myself, feeling a tad queazy I passed on breakfast and made my way to the library wreaking of synthetic Summer Meadows.

Business

My daughter is officially unemployed as of today. She was given a week's notice from her temporary contract last week. She took it well at the time but I still half expected to return from work this afternoon to find her moping about the kitchen dipping into the biscuit barrel and drinking endless cups of tea. Basically what I would be doing under the same circumstances. But no I came back to find my daughter and her boyfriend brainstorming ideas for a business start up meeting tomorrow. They were thinking about what Louise can do and scratching any ideas she can't. Pets Holiday Home was crossed off the list when I mentioned my cat allergies and Secret Shopper was too when Louise revealed she secretly detested shopping - news to me, I always thought she loved accompanying me around the discount supermarkets about town. I left the room and returned later to hear their finalised idea, which I think will cause quite a stir at the workshop tomorrow - Bikini Window Cleaning!

Griping

Despite gripey stomach pains I soldiered into work, upon orders of my Team Leader. I could be struck down with the Bubonic Plague and she'd still insist I 'come in and see how you get on.' So there I was gurgling away on reception when she relented and sent me home. When I got outside it was bucketing it down and I opted for the bus. A mistake. As soon as I took refuge under the bus shelter I was pinned to the spot by a woman with verbal diarrhea. She was spouting off about the state of the pavements, the parks, the bus service, the weather, immigration and housing, when suddenly a loud, cheek slapping eruption stopped her diatribe dead in it's tracks. Who would have thought a poorly stomach could be of so much benefit?

Nom, nom, nom

What's your favourite supper-time snack? My daughter loves a bowl of custard, usually zapped so fiercely most of it ends up decorating the inside of the microwave. If money's a bit tight I might have a dry cracker or two before bedtime or if I'm feeling frivolous I do like to indulge in an overpriced granola cereal with Greek yoghurt topped with chopped apricots. During leaner times, i.e. twenty five days of the month, I might go for a cut-price cereal that tastes and looks like cardboard, with cheap sugar laden own brand yoghurt. In fact my money saving tip for today is food related. Sneak a plastic lidded box of sugar coated cereal into the cinema, it's a great substitute for popcorn and when you're in the dark you won't know the difference.

Fishy business

My daughter kindly offered to take me out for lunch today. It has been a miserable week, what with being dumped and public humiliation in the supermarket so she suggested a light snack followed by a special treat. She knows I have been struggling with thickened skin on the soles of my feet, especially since the warm weather arrived and I have been sporting my trusty tractor tread sandals on a more regular basis. So she took me to one of those fishy foot spa places, where the little fish nibble all the dead skin off your feet. I hadn't a clue what to expect, so when I dipped my callused feet into the water imagine my suprise when a large shoal lurched forward and begin nibbling away. Not being au fait with the sensation of foot munching fish I let out a blood curdling yelp, scaring the woman sat across from me. Thankfully I soon relaxed and found the whole experience rather soothing. The fish made light work of my feet and afterwards they felt less sandpaper-like. In fact I examined my feet this evening and found the words 'Fancy a Drink?' nibbled into my heels. Perhaps the fish thought I was tasty?!

Bagging Area

Nothing riles me more than spending more time than I need to in an overcrowded supermarket. Take Thursday afternoon for instance. What should have been a leisurely stroll about the special offers aisle turned into a scrum for discounted disposable barbeques and ten packs of party poppers. Yes I am aware there was a bank holiday looming but anyone would think the end of the world was nigh judging by the overloaded trolleys and grim faces of my fellow shoppers. Seizing the opportunity to leave I joined a lengthy queue and waited. And waited. And waited for the people in front to load their last supper of bumper packs of crisps, bread rolls and cheap ale onto the checkout. They then proceeded to confuse the poor lass on the till with a variety of requests for change in different denominations, it culminated in a till roll malfunction and a stern word from the supervisor. Absolutely tee-ed off I made my way over to the self service section where a machine ordered me in a shrill, sharp voice to 'PLACE MY ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA' after I put a sack of spuds in my Bag for Life. The robot of hard knocks continued to tell me off throughout the proceedings, especially when I placed my Bag for Life in the bagging area - where surely it belongs - and it practically screamed 'UNEXPECTED ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA'. Feeling a surge of rage I decided to take matters in my own hands and held a sit down protest in the bagging area as the machine chanted it's mantra 'UNEXPECTED ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA' until security were called and I was quietly taken to a newly opened till staffed by a real human being.

Dumped

Despite the double bank holiday and clement weather my mood hasn't lifted since Meryl decided to give me the old heave ho. Yes folks I find myself single and searching for love yet again. I feel like someone has vomited in my Bag for Life and neglected to tell me until I reach the supermarket check out. Why did she end it? Well she said it never started, that I was kidding myself that we were a couple and that I needed to 'get a grip'. That was after I had serenaded her in the park with a bunch of roses and the backing of busker friend. here's me thinking women liked that sort of thing but she just looked awkward, especially as I sang 'I love you, I love you, I love you. More than words can say. I love you more each day.' After such a public dumping I confided in my daughter who said that Meryl wasn't worth my anguish and suggested I find someone who is a little more tactile than the ice maiden who has slung me aside like a pair of ill fitting sandals.

It's Curtains For You

After a hot tea and light supper of sardine toasties Meryl suggested we go out for the evening. I feigned illness. Why? Because she was still sporting a set of Laura Ashley curtains from the 80's, sorry Palazzo Pants. She took my temperature and assured me I was fine. I asked if she would not be a little nippy in such breezy trouserware and suggested she might like to wear a pair of my daughter's velour jogging bottoms. Anything would have been preferable to those pants. She laughed and shook her head. I insisted that she secure her swishy Palazzo Pants with bike clips so as to avert any nasty accidents with lift doors but she refused stating that it would create a harem trouser effect and besides we were only popping over the road for a 'quick one'. She meant a drink. So we set off into the night, her trousers dragging along in the detritus of the pavement. Thank goodness it was dark. The sight of the Mysterious Woman Of Floral Cloth could scare small children and give other woman strange fashion ideas. If she continues to dress like this I could happily say it's curtains for us!

Curtains

Its been four years since I had to lie to my wife about her crimes against fashion and yesterday I found myself in a similar predicament. Meryl swished by after work wearing what I can only describe as her Granny's best soft furnishings. Her bottom half was dressed in swathes of floral fabric, like a hideous tribute to Laura Ashley. I stood in the corner of the kitchen quietly grimacing whilst my daughter paid her compliments a plenty on 'the new maxi length'. I felt I was missing the point, here was my lovely girlfriend dressed in a pair of curtains - why? As turned to make the tea I heard a gasp from my daughter. I hoped the offending item of clothing had been shredded by the cat but I looked back to discover that Meryl had revealed it wasn't a set of curtains after all. Or a skirt. It was trouserware. I must have let out an audible shriek as Meryl asked my opinion on her 'Palazzo Pants'. I nodded silently and went back to brewing up, secretly hoping they get caught in the door later.

hallucinogenic elephant

What is it with women and fashion? One week they're wearing skirts up to their belly buttons, the next they're sporting long swishy numbers to hide their cankles. When I was married to 'she of the acid tongue' I was regularly forced to compliment an array of bizarre outfits that wouldn't have looked out of place in Angie Watts wardrobe. She had a penchant for garish colours and taffeta, and often combined the two in a double onslaught of fashion homicide. She thought jumpsuits in shocking pink were flattering, though she looked more like a hallucinogenic elephant. And her hair was a nest of bleach blonde highlights, glued together with Elnett. Every morning I would smile meekly as she paraded around in her latest ensemble. I was too scared to tell her the truth, in case she turned nasty and 'accidently' threw out my favourite book or hid the biscuits.

Boredom

Since ending my affair with Pat my life has slipped back into it's usual humdrum rhythm. Work every morning, swimming twice a week and of course my weekly slot at Portland FM. Meryl is away on a modelling assignment, she phoned me last night and told me she's been modelling back support pillows and comfy toilet seats. We still haven't kissed and she seems to be showing more than a passing interest in my friend Piers. Ho-humm.

The End

As Meryl was busy at her yoga class yesterday I took the opportunity to contact Pat and end our affair. We met in a quiet coffee shop in town, the perfect place to break the news or so I thought. She didn't take it kindly and hit me with a barrage of insults. The volume of her voice rising with each expletive. After she had finished verbally castrating me she sat down and started sobbing. Loudly. Like a tired child being marched out of a confectioners without any sweets. She was inconsolable, a nearby customer offered her a tissue and suggested I went to get her a glass of water. I got up swiftly feeling a room full of eyes on me. I could tell what they were thinking 'How could he finish with a woman on Valentine's Day?' When I returned they were deep in hushed conversation, I could hear the odd phrase being uttered 'They're all the same', 'You're better off without him' and 'Unbelievable'. I checked my watch, I had to leave. Meryl was due out of her yoga class and I'd planned a surprise Valentine's lunch. By now Pat had reached over the table and was clinging to my arm. I sat unable to move, considering my next move as she pleaded with her eyes. It would be so easy to take her back. But I had to be strong for her and my sanity. This woman was driving me round the twist! I removed her tightly clenched hand and said quietly 'sorry I have to go.' And walked out. That, I hope is the End.

U4Me Am ur 53XXXy Laydee

Pat's barrage of filthy, misspelt texts has left me somewhat exhausted. So much so I had to take to my bed after work this afternoon. I was woken by the doorbell. Thinking my daughter had forgotton her key I stumbled to the door to discover Pat, dressed like a cut-price extra from Moulin Rouge. Disregarding her highly flammable outfit I let her in, put the kettle on and attempted to gather my thoughts. Pat took slow, gliding steps about the kitchen, performing a bizarre act with my best earthenware mugs and a packet of herb tea. "Take sugar?" she burred in a totally un-sultry manner. I shook my head. Meryl was due round in an hour, how was I going to get out of this one?

Tummy trouble

My good friend and partner in swimming bath submersion, Windy Posh Boy Piers, kindly dropped off a bag of organic fibre flakes yesterday evening. The stress of leading a double life has caused a few gut troubles of late. I quietly confided in Piers as we trundled home following a mid afternoon swim and sure enough he came up with the goods. He also advised that I lay off my daily treat - a bottle of cherryade and lent me a Tummy Cuddler to try out. Just as he was leaving Meryl arrived, all dolled up and nowhere to go, except the pokey confines of my living room. Piers was clearly taken aback by her beauty and offered to take us all out for a drink. We arrived at a nearby bar and he clearly forgot what he had just told me, ordering me a large shandy after which he cornered Meryl and cajouled her into modelling his Tummy Cuddler for his new brochure. She seemed entranced by his slick patter, thankfully he kept her occupied whilst I fielded calls from a rather over-keen Pat.

Utterly Ashamed

Never before have I had two women in my life. I am a two timing novice. I feel like the master of deception. I feel utterly ashamed. I wanted to interrupt Meryl yesterday evening as she was blethering on about a recent modelling assignment for a wide fit shoe company but I didn't have the guts. I wanted to pull her aside, hold her in my arms and drown in her perfumed hair and body. Then I'd have reason to end it with Pat, because yes folks it has started. Oh yes. I am aching from the carnal gymnastics I have been performing over the past two days. I still love Meryl but she gives me no inkling that the feeling is mutual. Our relationship is like siblings rather than lovers. Take last night for example, we had a light and healthy smoked salmon and sweet potato supper, watched Corrie and she went home. All very well but we've been together for over a month and our most tactile moment was when she squeezed past me in the kitchen to empty the bin. Meanwhile I have Pat texting me absolute filth and requesting my company for a bit of 'How's your father.' What is a man to do?

Chips

So what did I do? I called and she wasn't in. I popped out to get a chippy tea and she had called back three times. In case you're not up to speed I'm talking about Pat, a lady I am yet to meet from the Personal Ads. Not about Meryl, my model 'girlfriend' of a month who has yet to furnish me with a cuddle. After a hearty fish supper, and a lengthy succession of burps, I picked up the receiver to dial Pat's number only to find her rather spookily on the end of the line. It seems I had inadvertently dialled her number and she stayed on the phone to listen to the rustling of chip papers, chomping of chips and my passing of gas. It didn't seem to phase her though as she enthusiastically launched herself into conversation like a puppy chasing a ball. And a leaden, overstuffed ball at that. As I adjusted my belt and trousers to a more loose fitting, for digestive purposes I might add, she rather brazenly asked me out. Feeling a little dazed I agreed. Now I am, in the words of Natalie Imbruglia, 'Torn'.

Pool of Silly Swims

Just got back from swimming. It was like the Pool of Silly Swims today, people swimming in all directions and doing some strange strokes at that. So I got out and got dry after two lengths. Plus I winded myself after attempting to dive. My bad day didn't stop there, the vending machine decided to keep my 60p and refused to dispense my post swim cup-a-soup. Then when I got outside it was bucketing it down with a twenty minute wait for the bus. With fitness in mind I walked home and slipped in what I hoped was a rotten banana but smelt distinctly like dog muck. So I arrived home wet and hungry. I nearly didn't notice the answer machine flashing a message. Thinking it was Meryl I rushed over and listened. It was another response from my Lonely Hearts Ad. After meeting Meryl I completely forgot to take the ad out of the paper. What am I to do? The new lady sounds lovely. But I'm seeing Meryl, we haven't kissed yet but its early days, well nearly a month into the relationship. Do I phone the new lady back? Would I be betraying Meryl? I'm going to ponder it over a slice of warm quiche and a cup of tea.

Belly flop

Got drenched today coming back from the pool. Yes folks I've been swimming two days on the trot. On day one I managed eight lengths before I felt exhausted and paddled around in the shallow end. When you're a child there's so much to do, even when you can't manage a length. I remember splashing my brother and chasing each other around. I was once told to leave after a succession of 'bombing' into the pool and ducking my brother's head under repeatedly. When we weren't barred we spent day after day of the holidays practising our dives into the deep end. I couldn't do those things now, well if I did waves of tsunami proportions would propel across the pool after I belly flopped in. So I won't. Well I might have one little practise dive tomorrow, for old time's sake.

Waiting List

After work yesterday I decided to head back to Bend and Snap, sorry Bend and Stretch, in the hope of shedding some pounds. I've been rather indulgent of late and I have the tummy to prove it. Plus there could be some bedroom gymnastics on the cards, what with me dating a model. No, Meryl and I haven't kissed yet but I am sensing a certain closeness as she brushed dandruff from my collar last week and has been leaning in so close I can smell what she's had for lunch. So I skipped along to the class to find I had been ousted. The hippy dippy teacher told me that post Christmas they'd had an influx of new attendees and there was now a waiting list in operation! I put my name down but as there are ten people in front of me it could be a long wait. My good friend, Windy Posh Boy Piers, has just returned from a promotional tour of Eastern Europe and is in the same predicament. He has suggested we try swimming. So tomorrow we're off to the pool. Wish me luck!

Honey

Returned to work today with some trepidation, experience has taught me that The Team need to be eased back into working life slowly after the holidays. It came as no surprise that I was met with glum faces and scowls as I tripped around the office humming 'Love is in the Air'. Some might say it was probably a little too much, it being a Tuesday morning and the first day back after the festivities but I thought it lifted the black cloud somewhat. Plus I am keen to get word out that I am no longer single but dating. And not dating any old heffer but a model at that. So I perservered with my happiness onslaught and even slipped in a slug of honey to each of their herbal teas, though it did little to sweeten their mood. They grumbled about New Year detoxes, something about being sugar and carb free and carried on bashing away at their keyboards as I skipped along to the stationary cupboard. Happy days!