Am full of the joys of summer; my pulse rate is fluttering away healthily, the sun's out, my clematis arch is awash with flowers, and my bone density's improving.

Suze has been scoffing, but my new exercise programme is really kicking in, and body and mind are overflowing with serotinin and general good health. OK, so there've been a few teething troubles, and I did have to make an appointment with the emergency doctor when I thought I'd gone into anaphylactic shock, but on the whole life's definitely looking up.

The gym instructor is quite a find, too: all rock hard muscles and raised eyebrows over the pec machine, but between you and me I'm not going to be able to keep this gym stuff up for long - adorable as I'm sure I must look in my new exercise gear - it's boring as hell on those machines and frankly I'd rather get out al fresco.

Have conceived a plan to get hold of a bike and cycle about the place; I feel sure a helmet and elbow pads will look just as fetching as the leotard. I'm sure I've seen an old bike in one of the sheds at work - will flirt with that cute little trainee and see what I can do…

Annie is on another health kick. She's giving up drinking again and trying to improve her bone density - whatever that means - anyway she comes round this morning on her bike, for goodness sake, wearing her helmet back to front. She looked like Darth Vader.

Apparently she'd found the bike in one of the outhouses at Toad Hall and had bribed poor old James the Job scheme to get it working for her. Goodness knows what she offered him but I wouldn't be surprised if he puts in for a transfer soon.

Once she's stopped hyperventilating we put the kettle on and sit down for a nice chat. It turns out she's trying to impress the trainer at the gym she's joined, who pinched her underarms with a little metal thingy to measure her fat index and seems to have fanned something primeval into flame.

Under interrogation it transpires he's five foot four with a flicked hairdo, of which not unnaturally, I question the wisdom…but Annie insists these things are irrelevant compared to his muscle formation. Delving deeper, I also uncover that he wears an Aston Villa t-shirt and likes the Spice Girls - not quite soul mate material, given that Annie's obsessed with Wagner and shops exclusively at Marks and Spencers…