As it’s my last day at work until after Easter Week, it feels like Friday –  even better, I am now 11 stone 12.75.

The day gets off to a bad start. as I absent-mindedly pour my porridge onto a plate instead of a bowl. Fortunately, it is thick enough not to spill over the edge.

Lunch is roast turkey and potatoes without anything else as the only accompanying vegetables on offer are kale, cauliflower cheese and broccoli. As I do not do brassicas, I have to manage without any of these. Apart from the inevitable banana.

Windows 2010 goes from bad to worse. It takes a talented young computer literate colleague a whole 45 minutes to stop the stupid thing from preventing me from sending emails in which the spelling is incorrect by the standards of (OXYMORON ALERT!) US English. Unaccountably, it quite fails to enlighten me why we should take spelling advice from a country misguided enough to think that preserving the rights of psychos to carry guns is a higher priority than providing health care for its citizens. (Oops, total fail of abstaining from America-bashing during Lent. What the hell? I was provoked, as a trigger happy redneck would say.)

Then it’s off to The Gap to buy trousers. I am so pleased to have them in bright red, nice green and purpely blue that It doesn’t occur to me until much later that they come from the wrong side of the Atalantic.

I then go the gym where I have a rather unsatisfactory work out – I feel too worn out manage to burn more than 450 calories. Then it’s home for smoked salmon and spaghetti plus petit filou.

Dr J emails me a wonderful article about Wagner with an awful lot of good sense in it – as well as recording the sad story of a 24 year old Belgian composer who fainted with excitement at his first Tristan performance and subsequently died of typhoid as a result of eating a contaminated sorbet.