Friday 28 July

8st 12. Circumference of thighs 18 inches (honestly, what is the bloody point), alcohol units 3 (but v pure sort of wine) cigarettes 7 (but did not inhale), calories 1,500 (good, but wrong things) teas 0, coffees 3 (but made with real coffee beans thus less cellulite-inducing).

Determined, now, to free self's thighs of cellulite. Have embarked on detoxification programme involving no tea, no coffee, no alcohol, no white flour, no milk and what was it? Oh well. No fish maybe. Anyway, what you have to do is dry-skin brushing for five minutes every morning then a 15-minute bath containing anti-cellulite essential oils, during which one kneads one's cellulite in manner of dough, followed by massaging more anti-cellulite oil into the cellulite.

This last bit puzzles me - does the anti-cellulite oil soak into the cellulite through the skin? In which case, if you put self-tanning lotion on, does that mean you get suntanned cellulite inside? Or sun-tanned blood? Or a suntanned lymphatic drainage system? Urgh. Anyway I am very excited about the new programme (Cigarettes. That was the other thing. No cigarettes. Oh well. Too late now. I'll do that tomorrow)

Need to find new form of exercise. Gym membership, though expensive, does not seem really to be working out. Have only been twice in the past six months, both times to buy a sandwich. Fully intend to go three times a week but it seems such a horrible idea when it comes to it. The men grunt when they are lifting weights and wear silly little slippery shiny shorts, often with loose legs and nothing underneath.

11.15. Perpetua is in Siena so have been working at home this week, but now Friday has come, realise little has been achieved. Anti-cellulite programme is taking up good bit of time, obviously, but does not account for loss of entire week, though it has been hot. Resolve to concentrate for next two hours. Or maybe more useful to make time and motion study of work pattern.

11.25. Notice middle nail on right hand a touch on the scratchy side.

11.25-11.30. Go into fantasy of how pleasantly different it would be having sex if did not have cellulite on thighs - could move around room freely and naturally instead of draping weird things that come to hand round nether regions and reversing out of doorway. Also could absolutely assume position of choice during activity instead of avoiding any cellulite revelatory ones.

11.30-11.35. Start having paranoid fantasy for no reason about Daniel having an affair with someone else. Think up dignified, but cutting, remarks.

11.35 to 11.40. Bit of work.

11.40. Nail really is scratchy. Decide if I don't do something about it, I'll start picking at it and next thing I'll have no fingernail left. Resolve to go find emery board. Come to think of it, nail varnish generally is looking a bit scrotty. Need to take it all off and start again. Get up, which involves unplugging laptop, taking feet off chair, unplugging fan, moving chair, knock over coffee. Go fetch cloth to mop up coffee.

11.45-12.30. Suddenly remember how fed up I am that Daniel will not come on holiday with me. Call Tom (emergency: psychological crisis). Tom says it is much more fun to go on holiday with somebody you are not having a relationship with because if you go on holiday with someone you are having a relationship with, particularly in the early stages, you spend the whole time worrying about how the relationship is going, instead of just enjoying being in a lovely place. So maybe he and I should go together. It is far better to go with a few chums, he says, then you can have a hoot over dinner.

Apart from sex, I say. Apart from sex, he agrees. Holidays are very expensive, he adds. It's not just the holiday itself, it's all the things you end up buying at the airport - films in packets of three when 36 photos of one holiday is enough for anyone but you end up taking 108 photos and having to have 108 photos developed. Also it is stupid taking so many pictures on holiday because when you are old, the thing you will really want is to have pictures of everyday life. Arrange to meet Tom tonight with brochures to plan fantasy, or phantom, holiday.

12.30. Decide to go see if any brochures have come in second post. Nothing.

12.35. Shorts and T-shirt are too hot and uncomfortable. Resolve to change into long floaty dress. Put long floaty dress on. Unfortunately, pants show through dress. Decide to change into different pants, although no one in house to see see-through dress pant gaffe. Cannot find requisite flesh-coloured pants.

12.45. Put washing in and make do with visible pants in meantime.

12.55. Remember about nail varnish.

12.59. Return to work station with emery board, nail varnish remover pads, cotton wool, nail varnish. Is toe-nail varnish sexy or common?

1.00. Lunch time!

2pm. OK, this afternoon I am really going to work and get everything done before the weekend. V sleepy though. It's so hot. Maybe I'll just close my eyes for five minutes. Catnaps are said to be an excellent way of reviving oneself. Maybe I'll lie down on the bed.

7.30pm. Oh bloody hell.