First weekend in London for about five months. So much to do and so many people to catch up with....

Spent it at home in the rat’s nest, vomiting violently and shivering with fever, due to a sickness bug picked up from Lucy’s kids.

Managed to watch both games on Saturday though, cosily cutched up Carla’s bed with Boo and Dash, trotting out the room every now and then to throw up.

Went from admiring Ronaldo’s aesthetic to despising him for his Machiavellian pantomime antics – although they are damn entertaining. Little portuguese rat's gonna get roasted when he gets back Man U. Even felt a squeeze of pity for Beckham when he got injured.

It was clear we were never going to get through though and I have been supporting France anyway – like a true patriot. At least I’m not supporting Germany I suppose. The world cup is great for bringing out the racist in all of us.

Also, Brit bunting and flags will be well cheap now for the Burn. Let the scavenging commence.

Was gutted to miss Dougal, stopping the night just down the road on his way to NoWhere. Being tied to the bathroom does impact on one’s social life indeed.

Spent Sunday resting up - watching an excellently shit film with Leo and then clearing out drawers and shelves in my room for the imminent arrival of a husband. (Well, in three months but it’s good to be prepared.) Even did bizarre things like washing the skirting board and re-organising my books. Nesty, nesty, nesty.....cluck cluck.

Oh my God I am so happy. All the vomiting in the world can’t dent that.