I waddled onto the scales this morning, to confirm that the feasting four-fifths of the year have broken all previous records.

Yes, I'm a die-cast left-footer, and yes, I add another thing to the list each year, but I use it as a self-management tool rather than a penance thing.

This year I've added biscuits to the growing list of coffee, chocolate, alcohol and crisps, but 12 hours in and I'm as miserable as sin. It's the coffee cravings; all the other stuff is bagatelle, until the next session, when beer will replace coffee as the longest lost friend.

I just need to have eight blissful hours rocking in the arms of Morpheus, and I'll be off the bed like a long dog tomorrow morning, as Ash Wednesday is always the best night's sleep of the year.

Skipjack