My dad is coming to stay in our teeny tiny flat tomorrow. For one night only. He's bringing along one sibling of each variety and we're gonna go out for dinner and have a few drinks and reminisce about the time he got so drunk at his parent's anniversary party that he passed out in the back of the car and we all had to sit on the floor, whilst my heavily pregnant mother drove the six hours back to Wales. He loves that story.

Gotta get home, scrub the surfaces, fill the fridge with green stuff, shave and trim and generally de-scruff Olly, remove all the scuzzy stuff from around the bath, hide anything even remotely dodgy (18 rated films, matches etc.), put on half a stone in weight and have my teeth whitened. That should just about create the impression that we are a shiny happy couple who are in bed by ten and enjoy a varied diet of healthy stuff. It's not that far from the truth. We sleep in until way past ten whenever possible, and occasionally put Ragu on our pasta instead of Dolmio.

It's not been a good week in the canine world. First there was the dachshund on death row, and now a sniffer dog has a $10,000 price on her head. I suppose she'll have to go into some kind of witness protection, change her name to Rover, dye her hair, wear sunglasses in public. Once the fuss has died down, maybe she'll publish her autobiography and live off the royalties. Or get some work in television, possibly her own chat show? This isn't the end Agata!

I'm sat here wrapped in a duvet, with my headphones firmly plugged in, hair all scrunched back and polish peeling off my toenails. Looking like a bit of a plank to be honest.

Think it's time to come off the tablets, and start seeing things in 3D again. For one thing, my memory will improve. Spent most of today thinking it was Tuesday and having horrible little moments when I am convinced I didn't remember to put pants on this morning. It's happened before.