Birthday camping.

The eldest daughter is having a birthday, so it's a camping we go.

Camping with a 9 week old is somewhat removed to the chucking a bivvy under a hedge of early married life and we have a simply enormous tent, with an 8'X 8' porch I can stand in.

Also we are in my father's field.

This proves fruitful when Jim decides it is too cold and I have to drive her and the baby to my mother's in the middle of the night, so that they can sleep in a bed. It's odd sleeping alone, but it is nice when (at 4'oclock) someone realises that they are now six and I get attacked by excitability.

But I digress. I had a barbecue last night, with the normal sausages, burgers, roast bananas stuffed with dark chocolate and associates paraphernalia, followed by a breakfast this morning of fried kipper, cold sausage, baked beans, bacon, egg, bread and much, much tea.

I have high hopes that this calorific extravaganza can only serve to fuel a weight loss programme of stupendous proportions.

I weigh, on borrowed scales, 13st13lbs, which is 195lbs.

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I am having a poo
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13st12lbs. It doesn't take a calculator to work out that this is 194lbs and, frankly, a disappointment to the dieting scatologist.