68 kilos. Could be worse. Julio fantasies 4, they gave me the wrong baby fantasies 6.

09.23 So. Home. Laundry basket over flowing (C. ‘too busy for laundry’), larder empty (‘too busy for shopping’), house filthy (‘too busy for housework). Am contemplating day of putting this all to rights. Except. Why should I? Will just pop to hairdresser first and get roots done.

12.49 Back to normal at Maison Kevin. Swine flu was actually panic attack brought on by worrying he is 30 and still hasn’t got a wife, children etc. Funny, always assumed Kevin was gay but it appears he’s just shy. Not so sure about the Vicar, who does seem to love dressing up. Anyway am still smarting over ghastly visit from Bridget who was in the strangest mood. Toyed with her food and sulked, just like when she was 16, but she is the same age as Kevin and should have grown out of it. (Thought – should I introduce them? Might be useful to have a hairdresser in the family).

14.17 Colin bolted lunch and rushed out to, well not sure, but some activity that involves green wellies and his swimming shorts (mud wrestling?). Can’t stop brooding about yesterday – in the end was so irritated with Bridget I found myself repeating something I read in Talking Balls. I said being gay was just laziness, and having said it I went on to justify it. Can’t believe I did that, just because B was winding me up.

18.36 Colin back from working party in Kingsford Woods, clearing the undergrowth. Picked up swimming shorts in error as they are the same colour as his woolly hat. Is watching recorded tennis from yesterday while I do the ironing. There must be more to life than this.

10st 2 (post-Christmas, but still, not good) grey roots 0 fantasy cigarettes 0

1. 25 p.m. Spent all morning in the kitchen wrestling with Delia and produced a very creditable Thai Green Curry with Stir Fried Bamboo Shoots and Fluffy Rice. C. comes in from garden, hair full of lawn mowings (in December mark you) and says ‘I thought we were having turkey sandwiches and pickle?’ After lunch took 30 mins to scrape burnt bits out of wok and consoled self with fantasy in which Hugh Grant confesses he prefers older women.

1.30 p.m. Have just endured 20 minute phonecall from Sylvia boasting about profusion of grandchildren, all gifted to the point of genius and another one on the way possibly twins. Explained I was grateful to have healthy children who were enjoying their adult freedoms and building sound careers for themselves.

1.35 p.m. Why haven’t I got grandchildren? Why why why? Am totally inadequate mother children never phone and will be lonely old widow once C. pops clogs (any day now since refuses to give up cheese).

6 p.m. Just back from two blissful hours at Maison Kevin. Even the smell of a hairdressing salon is calming, and always enjoy a visit that does not entail touching in roots (had them done just before Christmas so photos would turn out nicely). Feel much better now, and will give C. his turkey sandwiches and pickle which he can eat in front of the snooker video he got for Christmas with a glass of beer. Will be perfect wife caring for grizzled husband taking well-earned retirement after lifetime of hard work.