In which our heroine experiences a total lack of inspiration

You know what? I have absolutely nothing to say.

This must herald the apocalypse.

I’d better go and buy lots of tinned food, so that I can get through the rising of the dead, and the counting of souls or whatever it is that happens at the End of Days. I hope the four horsemen and their steeds like baked beans. Difficult to judge really, not having read Revelations.

Oh, and London won the Olympic bid. I don’t have much to say about that either, apart from experiencing a moment of horror at realising that by the time it happens I'll be 38, and far too old to start training.

So, best move along now.

Nothing to see here.