The main thing to come out of our first anniversary celebrations ten days ago (apart from two sore throats and a lengthy Asda receipt) is the fact that Lisa and I need to spend more quality time together. Too often, our evenings are spent catching up on chores, tidying up after Amelie, and looking up pointless stuff on Wikipedia. By the time we've done the washing up, picked the Wotsits out of the sofa and discovered if Roddy Frame's married, it's usually time for bed.

So after much discussion, we've decided to designate two evenings a week as 'date nights'. They'll be chore-less, computer-free evenings of love, romance and trash TV. We've vowed to watch nothing more classy than Sky Living and Channel 5. Even BBC Three will need special permission. The intention is to rebuild our lives from the wreckage of hurricane Amelie, and do what we used to do before she was born. Which was essentially to watch Big Brother and slag off celebrities. It was an old-fashioned courtship.

It means that I have until 7pm tonight to write this blog post, otherwise the plug gets pulled, and I lose the lot in the name of romance. When Amelie goes to bed, the computer goes off, the TV goes on, and we're officially dating.

Obviously time's running out, and I haven't cleaned my teeth yet, but there is one thing I still need to do today, and that's publish this photo...


Ignore the green goddess on the right, I'm the one you should be looking at. I've started a new diet today, and that's my official 'before' photo. Although it was taken after my parents' anniversary meal. I feel like I've started more diets over the years than I've had hot dinners, but obviously if that were true, I wouldn't be the size that I am. The important thing is that this time I'm serious. If I'm not a shadow of my former self by Christmas, you have my permission to shoot me.

But preferably not with a gun.