I've got my gym induction thing this afternoon. I'm a bit scared. I don't want someone prodding at my wobbly bits and sniggering at how unfit I am. Besides, the machines in there look like something from a torture chamber. Maybe I should just stay at home and eat biscuits instead. Maybe I should start a new blog called Porky Brides and devote myself to become elephantine instead of sylph-like for the Big Day. Either way, I'm already regretting signing myself up for what is sure to be an hour of humiliation. Sigh.
On a brighter note, did you watch Mistresses last night? Good, wasn't it? It felt like the best kind of juicy novel - great characters, sparky dialogue, lots of plot-lines bubbling away and plenty of Oh-no-don't-do-it! moments. (And I love Sarah Parish whatever she's in. She's fab.) Watching it made me really keen to get back to my new novel and immerse myself in my own dramas and characters, but I will have to wait until next week for that - a few more other deadlines to tick off before I can indulge. But I've rejoined the Novel Racers so will have to start walking the walk at the Friday coffee mornings soon...
Right - time to throw myself into work before gym hour strikes!
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