And Gravity wants to bring me down...

This may be my last blog.

No, it's OK. I'm not planning to quit writing just yet. But tomorrow morning I have to get on a perilously small aeroplane and fly to Guernsey, and then Wednesday I have to fly back. We're talking about the sort of tiny little aircraft - with all the substance of a 70's Datsun that looks like it will be torn apart by the lightest gust of wind.

Mr Boeing reputedly said when asked why he chose to fly in a four-engined plane "because there are no eight engined planes." and this pretty much summarises my view on flying - the bigger the better. Little planes where they have to balance the passenger load by weight are unnecessary.

But my options for dealing with this are limited. Someone kindly suggested that in the spirit of this classic, I could chug a couple of whiskies before I got on the plane - but that's not really me. And I don't have any tranquillisers, so it will be eyes closed and take a firm hold of the arm rests.

Of course, as was also pointed out to me, it could get foggy and I could get stuck in Guernsey - which feels like a different sort of terror - you worry about them starting to sing "Summer is icumen in" and burn things.

In other news, I've hit my target weight! I hit it last Wednesday and have been at it since. These means several things:

1. that I have lost over 15 kg since Easter
2. that I feel really good about myself as a result
3. that (my app tells me) I can now happily eat an extra 500 calories a day over what I have been living on. And this is odd, because I don't know quite what to have. A Starbucks muffin every morning probably isn't ideal, but I can't eat another 5 bananas either.

I've still got some toning up to do - not major but a bit, and I really miss it when I don't go to the gym so that will all continue. And the longer term challenge is to get this stabilised and permanent. So I shall be watching my weight like a hawk - and if you think I am slipping, please intervene.

So with that hopefully done, I'll need to find something else to talk to you about. Suspect it is not going to be the royal baby - I feel so sorry for that poor woman and the scrutiny she is permanently under so I shall say no more unless they wish to name it after me.

And I've been threatened with death if I just keep going on about Kate Bush for the next 9 days and 3 hours. And I think they meant it.

So, instead I'm going to write a couple of blogs about Scottish independence. I am Scottish you see - lived the first fourteen months of my life in Edinburgh, so I will be "considered a citizen" by a future independent Scotland. And could sponsor my kids to be one too. Sounds like something worth exploring, at least in blog form. And it may presage a turn back to the longer-term political agenda of some blogs previously, you never know.