Reckless greed and inexcusable rudeness, just as usual

14st 10lb, 6.0 units. Wax earplugs may be the way forward, as I claimed the other day, but they did not prevent me from being disturbed every three hours last night, as Mrs H heaved herself out of bed to attend to The Baby, and half an hour afterwards as she clambered back. My inability to sleep through this might have had something to do with the fact that I was suffering from the worst indigestion I have experienced in months, despite having eaten nothing more exotic than a ham sandwich for supper. Then, as God’s pièce de resistance in a thoroughly unrefreshing night, he plunged me into a series of vivid dreams about my long-dead mother, for which I could detect no reason at all, let alone a rhyme. I wished I had chosen a cheese sandwich the previous evening, which would at least have given me something to blame.

I did my celebrated impression of an anti-social twat when some friends of Mrs H’s called to deliver a present for The Baby, threatening to interrupt my vital ironing and weekly catch-up with The Archers. Then we went to lunch at Mrs H’s parents, and I ate too much in the way that a greedy bloke can be expected to do when presented with a fine spread, even if he has just recovered from truly appalling indigestion and can be almost certain of plunging himself into a further bout of it if he over-eats. Which, of course, I did. Good news for shareholders in the company that manufactures Rennies, perhaps, but certainly not for me.