Lent

This weekend will be a real hoot.

Mothering Sunday, teenage boys and the delight of a new BodyStat on Monday.

Mothering Sunday will be fine - "All I want is a fiver in my card". Job done. Card sent. Just the journey there and back.

Teenage boys? Bit more effort required. Lots of clearing up (how much toothpaste can one 18-year-old get through? Does he eat it?), lots of food to prepare and lots of shirts to iron (Yes, the hot, triangular thingy is called an iron...)

BodyStat is the one I'm dreading.

As Smiling Assassin re-emerged from her icky little bed this week, the looming BodyStat came to her mind.

"Have a good weekend" (so far so good, I thought) "...and don't eat or drink anything bad. It'll all show in the tests on Monday."

Aw, thanks. Friday night is crisps night. One big bag of ridge crisps. All mine. Goodbye to that treat then.

Saturday night is drinks night. Goodbye to that as well.

Monday means no breakfast, no tea or coffee 4 hours beforehand and just sips of water. Then its plug me into the mains, run a current through and see me light up and count the hairs which burn. Well, sort of.

It's pinch this, measure that, blow in here ... it's like a human MoT. Without the tyre change. Though I've got plenty of spare tyres in case they're needed.

So, hope you have a great weekend.

By the way, Smiling Assassin also managed to read my last post about her not being able to keep up with me. Now she's going to push me harder and make me weep (again).

I saw that nice fitness manager boss of hers, Matt Hickey, in the gym today and he asked how I was doing.

"Fine thanks, that Helen is a great instructor - you've taught her well," I said (through gritted teeth). I might have to drop him a confidential email if Monday proves too tough ( or worse still, Smiling Assassin tries to ban all crisps...)