Online again, woo-hoo! Sorry it has been a very long time, yet again. Unfortunately for you though, I'm feeling pants, so this may just end in one long whinge about aching muscles and cellulite. I apologise in advance.

So what's been happening. Hubby no longer looks like Odd Bod (although the combination of cricked neck and a weekend bout of Himalayan tummy handily got him out of childcare duties for much of the weekend; whilst quietly groaning in a darkened room and watching re-runs of the preposterous - both in plot and acting - second series of Heroes, he wondered out loud whether this was a sign and that God didn't really want him to be an atheist), but more like Daniel Craig. All those gym sessions have worked a treat for him. Sadly, they have been less effective for me. I still look like me, only fatter.

Last week passed in a whirl of frenetic activity, planning for the valley rim trek over the long weekend (kids' half term). There is quite an art in estimating how many sweets and mini-mars bars you need to trek for three days with ten children (five under the age of five). Think of the bribes required to get your kids to walk home from school sometimes, and then multiply it by about a million. Still, they all enjoyed it. Especially Twins, who had the option to give up on the hills and get carried in baskets by porters. 

Grown ups (six of us) enjoyed it too: dads got the chance to use penknives to fashion walking-sticks (or rather, swoosh-about-and-narrowly-miss-poking-people-in-the-eye-whilst-making-a-noise-like-a-helicopter-sticks) from bamboo, and mums had the chance to chow an almost unlimited supply of chocolate and sweets without feeling remotely guilty because of course we needed the energy for walking (at about one mile an hour). 

God, delusional or otherwise, was not mentioned, and Hubby remained remarkably ailment-free. He even carried Twins on his shoulders for a lot of the way, despite us having paid two porters to do that job for us. He said this would give him a better workout. I began to suspect that the whole cricked neck thing was just an elaborate ruse to cunningly get out of fancy dress party/valentine's picnic at school/childcare for the previous weekend.

We were all exhausted afterwards, despite the sweets and chocolate, and had to go out for a big pizza. Today Hubby had a terribly important army visitor out - chief of the general staff, I think - and I was invited to go along to coffee and meet his wife. Unfortunately I had a prior engagement at the spa, and spent a productive morning being massaged and reading a two-week-old copy of Heat. Hope Sir and Lady Richards weren't too gutted at missing meeting me.