My gym  (it’s not actually mine; obviously, if it was I’d have a comfy seating area and a claw-foot bath at the end of the shower cubicles with some Jo Malone bath oils)  is a very functional place where everyone is extremely focused and no one is there to show off in inappropriate lycra.

Sunday So, it’s been a while; a wee while, or a Weald while, as we say on the Weald. (We don’t, but I’ve decided to start a trend.) I’d like to say a lot has happened since my last entry but of course not much has in reality, except that Mr Young has finally painted the kitchen and we’ve decided to eat more avocados, seeds and nuts because they’re really, really good for you. Also sauerkraut and kimchi, which are gradually removing the skin from the roof of my mouth, although

Sunday Mr Young is looking wan at the moment. There’s no spring in his step – although, if I’m honest, there never really was one, it was more of a dull thud, but obviously I’m painting a picture here – and every joint is aching, he says. We’re both testing negative, so he must have one of the other viruses that presumably still exist, although no one ever talks about them any more. So he’s working from home, huddled over his keyboard, looking like the gaunt and sickly Ghost

5 September 2021 It’s a funny old world, isn’t it? Well, no, actually. Right now, there aren’t many days when I wake up chuckling. Mr Young and I have reached the age when the alarm goes off, we check to make sure the other is still breathing, then pretend to be asleep until one of us has to get up, make the tea and let Ruby out. It’s tricky getting the balance just right between pretending to be asleep and not looking dead. My approach is to surreptitiously wipe the drool of

So I dream-marched up to him and said it more forcefully. At this point I woke myself up as well and apologised...

We're a bit like Mary and Joseph, but with a flat screen TV, toaster and underfloor heating.

She and Ruby are best friends, although only one of them is aware of this relationship; the other one spends most of these visits hiding

I hold up an arm, as if I was making a bicep. We both watch skin below slump sadly, swaying gently in the breeze

Nancy has a very full social life; I think my three just stared at the ceiling until they were old enough for Mothers and Toddlers.

Do I really want to be a jeans-wearing ghost? Or would smart-casual be more appropriate at my age?

"To get fit," I say weakly. "Silly girl," he says, striding briskly back into the kitchen.

After mixing with Mexicans for ten days, Signor Jong and me are back with our suitcases and astonishing bad jet-leg. Or hang-overs.

"Diesel, diesel, diesel," I mutter under my breath for most of the journey until it turns into "Diddle, diddle, diddle,"

"You can't buy slipper socks," I tell him. "They'll have sticky things on the soles. They'll pick up dog hairs and get all disgusting."

It's hard to concentrate when you're doing the downward dog while a small upward dog is staring up at you with a worried expression

Ruby stops running in circles and looks at him in disgust. She spends the evening sulking on the new turquoise velvet cushions. As do I.

25 December - My favourite day! So exciting; the whole family is agog - what will this year's festive argument be about?

I randomly press buttons so his chair lurches back and forwards, and his legs rise and fall gracefully and distractingly during the trailers

I watch Mr Young wheel his trolley triumphantly towards me, its little wheels crushing my vision of our Fun Couply Shopping Trip...

I imagine my family's collective dropped jaw as I casually appear on Christmas morning dressed like a crew member of the Starship Enterprise