Sunday and I wake up and idly lay there until I suddenly realise that I have not ordered my injection for tomorrow morning. There is a burst of self-directed abuse and then I set about ordering my drugs. They will not arrive in time, so I need options. Firstly, it might be possible to locate a Firmagon injection at a chemist. I look for possible candidates, Boots seems the most likely, opening at 11 o’clock. Cutting it fine as we are dining out at 1 o’clock. The other option is to rebook it for next Monday, a week won’t kill me. No predicting how quickly the drugs will turn up at the village chemist and I ‘m away on Wednesday to York so a push on to next Monday will do the job. All I have to do is pop down the GP tomorrow morning and explain the situation and own up to being a twat.

I next head to the bathroom where I lighten myself as much as possible before stepping onto the scales. This is crunch time, the first battle of the new Rocket era.



99.6 kilos! a drop of 2.4 kilos. Oh yes! I knew I could depend on Rocket. This the first battle won. Now to move on in the campaign. 90 kilos by Christmas.

Time for breakfast and an attempt to ring my youngest daughter. Call goes through but she is on a treadmill at the gym and will ring us back later. My partner, eldest daughter and I get ready to go to a friend’s house for Sunday lunch. At the appointed hour I drive my clan to our friends arriving unfashionably early. We are wined and dined wonderfully with eastern delights and then plied with cheeses, grapes and biscuits before being really cuisinely pampered with fresh coffee, chocolates and mints. A delicious way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It’s a real pleasure to chat, catch up and exchange stories, observations and ideas. The afternoon just disappears and all too soon itis time for us to leave. I drive us home in time for the Strictly results show. The rest of the evening for me is battling with the blog platform that will not save anything. I am increasingly frustrated and irritated, and I chunter during the TV background of SAS Rogue Heroes, which increasingly matches my homicidal miffedness as the techno problems persist. In the end I give up, there is clearly a problem at their end. I take my meds and go to bed knowing that tomorrow I will have to return to the dodgey website and also put an effort into training to counteract today’s chocolate indulgence. (This was finally completed on a wet Monday afternoon after much hassle with the website provider.