Arrgghhh, it's that dreaded time again...

HALF TERM!

If I have to listen to Poooower Raaaangers SPD, Pooooower Raaangers to the rescue, break up Triple H and The Undertaker wrestling on my floor or tend to WWE/Raw carpet burns one more time, I'm gonna perform a couple of double choke slams of my own!

As you can tell, I'm not in the best of moods. It's not all the kids' fault though. Some of it is self-inflicted...

To Spam or not to Spam

I decided that 2008 was the year where I was going to sever the umbilical cord between me and my 'puter a little. I was going to overcome my aversion to sunlight and get myself a bit fit!

Enter one very expensive and posh gym/club/fitness centre (whatever they are called). I met up with my 'trainer' last week and he set me a program. "Cool", I thought "this'll be a piece of cake - I'll be looking like Catherine Zeta Jones in no time!"

One week later and I'm living in fear of the snippy little Nicole Kidman-like receptionist stepping out from behind the sleek, black marble reception desk and saying "Mrs. Brett, would you be kind enough to leave by the back entrance in future, please, only you're giving the club a bad name".

Why? Well, I stagger out of that place like a drunken bag lady. I feel sick, dizzy, my legs can barely hold me up, let alone walk in a straight line...

Does anyone know how long it takes before all those 'feel good' hormones kick in and you become addicted to walking on treadmills, waving your arms and legs in different directions on cross trainers and giving yourself a hernia on rowing machines? Please tell me it's soon... When I get into my car to drive home, I have to sit there for at least 10 minutes before I can pluck up the courage to fire up the ignition.

To top it all, I'd just staggered through the door the other day when the phone started ringing. A sickeningly cheerful voice at the other end chirruped "Hello Mrs. Brett, it's Rhonda from the blah blah Health & Racquets Club".

"What have I done?" I cried, guiltily, "Have I broken something?".

"Oh no, Mrs. Brett, we've not had any complaints about you yet", (tinkling laugh) (what does she mean, YET, cheeky mare?) "I just wanted to let you know that we have some free guest passes for you"

"Wow, that's great, thank you - it's half term next week and I can bring my kids swimming" I said, "how do I get them?"

"Well, actually, Mrs. Brett, we were thinking more of your friends. We're offering you some fantastic gifts if they should join and if you can let us have their names, addresses and phone numbers, we'll give them a ring and invite them to come along"

OK, so here I have to decide whether I give all my friends' details to Rhonda, so I can get a free juicer, some free electronic scales and a free digital camera or whether I tell her that this is daylight spam and tell her to take a running jump!

Hmmmm, I didn't fancy any of the prizes, so I told her to take a running jump. Now if it was a new dishwasher (mine conked out finally yesterday), then I might have been tempted...

I'm sure they've got my card marked now, though, and when I have my next assessment with my trainer on the 22nd he'll be planning something evil for me because I'm not turning out to be a model Member!

They'll just have to put up with me because I'm absolutely determined that I'm not going to be one of those people that signs up to the gym, goes for a month and then gives up - I'm gonna get my money's worth if it kills me - and it probably will!!

Ooops, that's the doorbell - my new dishwasher has arrived - and he's gorgeous!