I wish I could tell you that I have been making like a dolphin at the bottom of a warm blue pool, where I have dazzled my Dive Master ( who happens to be tall, bronzed, unmarried - he never quite found the time to settle into a steady relationship until now, reads contemporary novels but is not averse to the odd classic or indeed, costume drama if incredibly well directed, and moves about a dance floor almost as gracefully as he kicks his flippers) by my rapid grasp of the principles and techniques of the deep and my stunning neoprene-clad physique.

I can't tell you that because he doesn't exist other than in my own head and the nearest I've got to water was my visit to Donna Nook to see the seal breeding colony last Sunday ( we finally made it, Martian was forgiven, particularly as he behaved almost impeccably in the back of the car - I can only think he had his eyes shut all the way). I suspect one or two of the larger bull seals would bear a passing resemblance to me in a wet suit too but that's the closest it gets to the truth.

We had a lovely dinner afterwards at Sophie's Mum and Dad's. Jack made himself right at home to the point that he left one of his worn socks in the middle of their sitting room while he exiled himself to Eric's den to explore his collection of computer games! What on earth will they think of us, especially given the reason for said discarded sock was so he could reapply the surgical dressing to his nail-amputated toe which had been causing him some discomfort all week, despite which I'd still forced him to go to rugby practice thinking he was just trying to avoid the frosty temperatures until receiving a phone call from Coach Goodegg politely requesting that I take him to Casualty.

The rest of the week has been rather more hum-drum. Our Housing Board bonding session last weekend seems to have had the desired effect - we all seemed a much more cohesive group at last night's meeting brought together in no small way by having endured the "Past, Present & Future" presentations from some of our more vociferous number, without the aid of wine.

One member who shall of course remain nameless launched whole-heartedly into a full and frank personal history, eventually reaching the age of 7 and three quarters after the first twenty minutes. It was all I could do to stop myself sinking lower and lower in my seat whilst stifling hysterical outbursts which were threatening to escape from my throat until the moment when she told of having been left with 5 children all under the age of 4 ( yes, there were the inevitable twins in there somewhere) when her second husband, who had also squandered what could have been a multi-million pound electronics empire ( the term Mr & Mrs Sony was actually used!) ran off with the au-pair. Fortunately she was so engrossed in telling her story that she didn't even seem to register the loud guffaw that involuntarily erupted from me and caused tears to stream down my cheeks.

I know my limitations and my own offering was a Reduced Shakespeare Company style performance in comparison, my only desire being to leave my fellow members with a vague will to live, a sense that I wasn't yet another boring basketcase ( not easy given that it was almost 9pm on a Friday night, and did I mention there was no alcohol?) and that there might actually be more interesting things to find out about me by having a conversation with me at some future point, something which I suspect few of us will be brave enough to risk with the old dear I've singled out above.

By far the biggest highlight of my week has, I confess, been the arrival of an incredibly flattering Comment ( the second in fact) from a well-wisher who I assume to be an otherwise sane, rational human being. Okay, so he's Canadian, a nation not renowned for their appreciation of sparkling wit and humour, a stereotype which I am certain much maligns them ( although you have to think about Celine Dion and Bryan Adams and wonder for a moment). He's probably been snowed in to his house since October 4th and has only had sight of migrating moose and passing Mounties for stimulation so my paltry literary efforts offer some respite. Anyway, it's a rather gratifying feeling to have someone who doesn't know me, owe me money or want free legal advice to volunteer such kind words. Thank you, Mr Mennonite. Shame to see from your profile that you're not single or I could have sparked an entirely new fantasy life in my head again.