Sitting comfortably

Big news - I have pants.

Well they're boxers but yesterday, after arriving home from a 96th birthday party (which was pretty top) I found the new arrival on our doorstep.

The padded pants will, as my middle brother put it the other night, make a big difference when I'm doing the hard miles.

Apart from maybe a spike or porcupine, there's surely nothing more uncomfortable than a bike saddle. It's a wonder of perseverance and grit that anyone can stay on one for more than a few minutes at a time. Just how is it done?

While I can't ride a bike at the moment, it doesn't mean I haven't tried in the past. And apart from the memories of tumbling, falling and general pain, the abiding memory is the uncomfortable seat of the orange and white BMX that was my first bike.

So, I pray the pants will solve this problem or, at least, give me a wee bit of comfort.

I'm writing this as the BBC's Call the Midwife is on.

Bear with me.

It seems my lack of skill is shared by Miranda Hart, in this programme at least.

In a case of art imitating life, she's not only playing someone who can't cycle but who is a whisky expert. Apart from being an upper class, 1950s midwife, the story could be mine.

A date has been set for next Sunday to try the cycling thing again. I'm currently searching websites and looking at different methods for the big day.

Coupled with this, I'm having wine. A nice glass of red. We've been well behaved today but we felt like a small tipple.

In diets, as well as cycling, it seems that balance is key.

Things to do

Like the WTB, I can be a sucker for trashy TV.
While I love a good documentary, Radios 4 and 6 are simply wonderful, and I love classical music, I also adore bad reality TV shows, cannot wake up without Moyles on Radio and often sing adverts to myself during the day. Even Go Compare gets a welcome in my brain.

The list for the wedding is still fairly sizeable and yet after a day of work, when it's a cold January day outside and you've got quality TV recorded (Sherlock included, please don't spoil it for me), it can be hard to get everything sorted.

We've also got a large amount of bad TV on offer. Name an ailment, a cultural group or a problem and there's a show built around it. My favourites include:

• Mother knows Best: A group of mums bake cakes and become pals with Calum Best, while raising money for charity somehow.
• Fight Club: Boxers take on oversized chocolate biscuits on the way to fight the king of all snacks - the Mint Club.
• Cooking on Gaz: 1980s TV presenter Gaz Top balances a barbecue on his stomach while celebrity chefs try and create a meal on his body.

I was given a slight kick-up the bum this evening. A call to my mum in Cornwall, which usually consists of a run down of everyone's activities since the last call, revealed that the banns for our marriage are being read in only a few months.

A wee bit of a shock.

Do I need to be there? What time? What about up here? Should I phone the vicar now? What should I wear? What time is it? Why am I holding a duck?

Funny isn't it, how a few words can make you panic quite quickly.

We've got a list to get through this week and deadlines to hit. The majority of the wedding is either sorted or on the way. We've just got a few key items left to sort.

Time seems to be flying by right now. The weekend went in a blink, I've still got to join the gym and master riding the bike. We've got to get focused, get all the boxes ticked and other motivational phrases.

But maybe after one more episode of Next Top Model.