So. Things have been happening.
For a start, I'm five pounds lighter than when we last spoke. And I've made a change - not one of those little, piddling little changes that you read about in the self-help magazine articles, but the kind of massive, seismic life change that throws everything up in the air and leaves you wondering if you are still the kind of person you believed yourself to be.
We're talking about not taking milk in coffee.
Because I came to a realisation on day one of my diet (I only cheated once, by the way, in five days, when I decided I really didn't want a cooked chicken breast as my mid-morning snack and substituted a glass of wine in the cinema instead) that I was never going to lose any weight with the amount of milk fat swishing around inside me.
I love milk. I love playing with my milk frother. I love a latte when I'm out. And I don't like skimmed milk, before you suggest it. All around me there are beautiful things like this in the world. You lot all might enjoy looking at blue skies or piles of knitting yarn, but this is my porn of choice.
But I'm not called The Milk Lady, after all. And I'm not getting any thinner. And I can't give up wine. So I gave black coffee a try and you know, it won't kill me. It's actually kind of nice.
It's amazing the places life takes you.