I was reeeeaaaallllly dancing last night. I do love a good boogie, especially with a handsome man to swoop and twirl me about - and there was no shortage of them lining up to mark my card. The best was Jim The Gardener, mainly because it was the first time I'd met him (and his lovely wife) and I get a thrill out of being able to follow a new lead. But I can't forget Tomlinson, take a pinch of music, a large dash of wine and it's not long before we are cooking up a party of our own.

He is such a cheeky rogue and it's always a bit dangerous - I'm currently sporting the bruises to prove it!

Vickie must have been right when she told me over coffee yesterday afternoon that I had "F*** me" tattooed all over my forehead. I'll spare you the gory details, but let's just say I've definitely found my form and can count myself a hardened hedonist once again.

So today has been spent very lazily. Fortunately, no hangover appeared - largely soothed by the lyrical sound of Irish burr down the phone at lunchtime. Now there's someone I could do the horizontal tango with! and a bit of Throbbing never did anyone any harm.