Thursday already

An exciting morning so far. Chugged my way through a load of ironing and have only stopped because the rest isn't dry enough yet. That's the trouble with hols: the way stuff piles up.

First son has a new project to work on. It means two days a week in London and three days in Madrid. He can give Mr Beckham some footie tips. Very exciting. He is not at all perturbed by the fact that he doesn't speak Spanish. I would be. That is the thing with being young: you only see the excitement not the pitfalls. Or perhaps it's just pessimists that see the pitfalls.

I don't think I'm a pessimist really though. I am actually quite a jolly person. The fact that my mouth turns down at the corners making me look miserable is not because I am miserable but because of my granny.

I wonder why gravity has more effect on older bodies than on younger. Probably to do with hormones; most things are.

And that's the trouble with diets: the more you think about what you're not supposed to be eating, the more you want to eat it. Chocolate. Smooth, creamy, milky Cadburys chocolate. Melting in your mouth, tantalising your taste buds. Savouring the taste even after it's been swallowed. Mmmmm. Chocolate. I'm looking out of the window and picturing the scene as a chocolate wonderland. I don't have any bananas either. Oooooh.

There was a wonderful bit on What Not to Wear last night. Trinny and Suzannah were doing up a couple of older ladies - in their sixties, I guess. Trinny went and asked some old men who knew one of them what her good points were. One of them said, 'She's got her own teeth.'

And, 'She could be quite fanciable.' And this from a fatter balder Frankie Howerd lookalike.

I'm still chuckling about the teeth.