These boots are made for walking...

Honestly. I am actually incapable of being good. I do try, I really do, but, somehow, I managed to overeat big-time last week. Or under-exercise. Whichever it was doesn't really matter, all that mattered was that on Monday I stood on the scales and the sentence was harsh, a sudden leap back to 91.6kg meant dried bread and gruel...

Which will be why we've had cocktails several times this week.

Fortunately my lovely flatmate managed to show more self control (I know!) which meant she is still svelte, just now in a blonde kind of way.

As penance I've been walking. A lot. On Monday, in a state of lardy shock, I marched to the Tower, and the edge of Tower Hamlets, via the river path, and back again. This was lovely, I found a beach, got annoyed with tourists, was amazed at stumbling on the Danish area in St Katherine's Dock and generally had some quality thinking time. Which I did need.

A pleasant 8 mile round trip along the river and back, just what the evil exercise doctor would have ordered. The best thing was I got back home just in time to see the jump off and TeamGB win Gold in the show jumping. We might have been a little bit excited!

There, I mentioned sport.

Later we toddled over to Canary Wharf and clocked up another 4 miles of healthy exercise goodness. Which is good. Plus we saw the German centre. They've taken over the Museum of London Docklands, an event which, when announced, had us near apoplexy. But in this unexpectedly found Olympic spirit, we didn't mind, indeed rather enjoyed the sights and sounds. And Clare got a pretzel. Which she denies. Obvs.

Later that evening... We had cocktails. Quite a few. As the Contrary Party is approaching, some serious research was needed to avoid us poisoning the guests and come up with some whizzy combinations. Clare was to be the mix-meister. She was quite good.

Mile End... Honest!

Tuesday brought a slightly shorter walk, down Limehouse Cut to Limehouse Basin, up Regent's Canal, along the Hertford Union Canal and... Then I had to hit the streets. You see, owing to the Olympics, a huge chunk of the tow path on the Lee Navigation was closed. Which might have displeased me. A lot.

It took a while, but I eventually found my way back to the Lee Navigation, which meant I could wander along, go over the Bow Locks (I didn't giggle) and back on to the Limehouse Cut and the final meander home. Lovely.

Meanwhile... Clare was raiding Waitrose for the evening's experimentation. We might have had a few more cocktails, the final one being quite epic. Yay!

You might think that all these cocktails are bad for the waistline, you might be right, but it has been a giggle testing them. We didn't last night, the shopping list had to be prepared ready for the party and, well, I wasn't a lot of help having been exhausted by three hours of constant talking and thinking earlier in the day. Oh, but I did find that the walk from Limehouse DLR station, via the basin and cut to home is really very pleasant. Who knew!

As we get closer to the big day things might be quiet and, paradoxically, a hive of activity here in Contrary Towers. But it will, as ever, be an endless stream of memories. Hopefully leading us to having to worry about just one single thing on Sunday...

What to wear...