This is pretty much the first "normal" weekend we've had since we got back from France at the end of June.
What with stag and hen nights, weekends in London, cake preparation (and the associated fall-out) and the wedding itself last week, it's been nice to just sit on my backside and do sweet Felicity Arkwright for a while.
In a way it's funny; at the start of this I said I'd be keen to do regular exercise to help with the weight loss. It's fair to say I've done nothing formal in the exercise line at all. I'm spectacularly knackered, though - I suspect that I need to work on my stamina a little. If normal existence is tiring me out then I definitely have some issues.
So what impact is this lifestyle having on the numbers, I hear you ask?
Another two pounds off from last week, makes a loss of 13 in total. I'm truly amazed (and delighted) by this. But why the surprise?
I'll let you all into a little secret. I weighed myself after I came back from the wedding last week. I know. It's wrong. I should only do it once a week. But I wanted to see what damage a weekend of debauchery would do.
It turns out I'd put on five pounds in 48 hours. I was a worried man and was about to break out the Leonard Cohen and Nick Cave albums. They're the perfect choice for the busy depressive.
But it seems that being sensible since then has allowed me to get back on track. I'm getting close to my first milestone and feeling much better.
Thanks for asking.