Here we go again...

There's nothing wrong with me
that chocolate won't fix

Many of you may remember The Great Time Travel Episode of a couple of years ago which saw me trying to transport myself back to the age of 40 before my 52nd birthday.
What an adventure that turned out to be and what brilliant lessons I learnt along the way, such as, electronic fitness instructors are retarded and pubic hair still grows in the shade.

Well, this time, I've decided that trying to regain youth isn't the answer.  I'm having too much fun being all older and wiser and really not giving a damn what people think anymore.  You can't do that when you are youngish (as 40 year olds are these days).  You definitely need some wisdom spots and aches and pains before you can whiplash people with your tongue with maximum effect.

Shaking your head in disdain at the stupidity of most of the rest of the human race is also something that only those of us who have had maximum storage capacity reached in our brain cells are able to do effectively.  It's an art form that only comes with having lived long enough to know everything about everything.

So why am I bothering to write another blog?  To be honest, I need your support once more.

Funny old word, "support".  My ankles need support if I'm on my feet too long each day.  My waistline needs support from old ladies undies because it sags over the top of g-string styled knickers.  My doctors need support when I visit them and tell them how to do their jobs properly.
But when I see the word "support" all I see is the breakdown of the word "sup" and "port".  Two of my favourite things in the world actually.

So please sup with me and have a port if you wish, and let me regale you with my tales of trying to lose a few extra kilos without changing anything I do or killing someone.

We've got quite an adventure ahead of us.