This is a bloody weird freaky blog.

I am excited to read that scientists have worked out how the body clock affects our daily lives.

They are terribly clever, what with their white lab coats and clipboards and everything. The thing is, I’m not sure that they’re right on all counts.

They did a table, showing how our bodies work differently throughout the day. It goes like this:

1-2am: Urine production is at its lowest
This is rubbish. My urine production really starts to get going round about this point, and I am clearly not alone in this.

3-4am: Body at its lowest ebb – most likely to die
This is alarming, especially as I am normally asleep at this point (except when I get up to go for a wee wee (see above)). Which means that I can’t take any action to avert the ‘likely to die’ bit, like get a drink of water or some paracetamol etc etc. It must be quite useful to know however, especially if you are a journalist hanging around Yasser Arafat – you may as well get a bit of kip and come back in a few hours time.

5-6am: Growth hormones peak
Annoyingly, I am still asleep. It would be far more interesting if this happened during the day, then you could stand in front of a full-length mirror, watching yourself grow. As it is, it seems a bit of a waste.

7-8am: …sperm count highest – most likely to conceive
Somebody here is taking the piss. This is all very well, but frankly I’m not – well – that is to say, I’m not at my most alluring at this point. Something has clearly gone wrong with evolution if this is the best time to plan conception. I’ve just woken up, my hair’s all over the place, I haven’t cleaned my teeth and I’ve sweated all night so it’s not particularly nice – you know – down there.

9-10am: …short-term memory and logical reasoning at their best
Again, a bit of a waste. I’ve just got up and nothing has happened to give me things to remember in the short term. It would be better if this happened around 7pm when the LTLP gets home, so when she asks what I’ve been doing all day I can give her a better answer than ‘oh, this and that’.

11am-12 noon: Concentration at its best
Sorry. You were saying?

1-2pm: Peak urine production
Rubbish (see above). I am going to measure how much wee wee I do between 1 and 2 today.

3-4pm: Lung function at its best
If I ever go a bit eccentric and start ringing people at random from the phone book and just breathe at them, then I will make a note to do this mid-afternoon. I might ask my friend the Policeman if there are statistics on the times heavy breathers usually make their calls.

5-6pm: Body at its fittest – best time to exercise; alertness peaks; body at its most flexible, muscle tone peaks
This is very useful to know. I will plan to always play Short Tony at tennis at this time, and with my insider knowledge I will thrash him every time. Ha ha!!!

Note (1) – thinking about it, his body will probably work the same as mine, so my advantage may well be negated.

Note (2) – and it will be dark.

7-8pm: …digestive system at its best
This is the first sensible thing the body clock has done all day. Just when I’m having my dinner and all.

9-10pm: …libido at its highest
Again, this is more like it! I would guess this is especially on Friday and Saturday. By this point I have usually had a couple of beers, and I’m raring to go and not particularly choosy. Honestly, if any lovely lady readers are looking at this after around 9pm, then give me a shout and we’ll go from there. Towards 10pm you won’t even need to be that lovely. Or ladylike.

11pm-12 midnight: …ovulation most likely
Hmmm.

So you see – a mixed bag.

And what happens to our bodies during every other hour in between?!?

I shall ponder this over the weekend.

Have a good one.

I sit at the piano and play a scale. It should go:

“Plink plunk plunk plunk plink plunk plunk plunnnk.”

And now it just goes:

“Plink plunk plunk plunk [gap] plunk plunk plunnnk.”

This is really annoying. I was quite happy with not having an A flat, but pretty well everything ever written has a G in it somewhere, especially ‘Air on a G String’ and ‘Green Green Grass of Home’. It is such a useful note.

I open the lid. I can see the wooden hammery-on things. It all looks very complicated, and not something that I’d be easily able to fix. I would call the Cheerful Builder, but I guess he doesn’t really know much about pianos as a) he is a builder not a piano mender and b) he is a punk – albeit a punk who likes Status Quo, which makes him a very rubbish punk indeed.

There is a business card sellotaped inside the lid – it is for a general piano repair man!!!

His phone number is Edgware 6421. I think it might be quite old.

I look at my piano sadly. It is very old and historic and I love it, but I will never become the Tori Amos of West Norfolk without a G or an A flat.

I want to know where all the washing comes from.

Every morning I do some washing. Some mornings I do two or three loads. Don’t worry – I have a machine that does most of the work for me. I just don’t understand.

I clearly remember when I was young, there would be a ‘washing day’ when it would all get done. This was as part of a family of four.

As far as I can tell, I don’t wear more clothes than I used to. In fact, when I was a kid I would have got more dirty, playing on my bike and stuff. Actually, thinking about it, I was sitting in my bedroom programming my ZX Spectrum whilst the other children were outside, getting dirty, making friends etc., so maybe that doesn’t stack up.

As it is, it’s pissing down with rain outside so there is wet laundry hanging everywhere. The bedroom looks like the pants department of Marks and Spencer.

In fact, if I wanted to make a bit of cash I could follow the example of those farmers who have diversified by setting up mazes using their fields of maize – the ‘Amazing Maize Mazes’, and do the same with my pants. It would be great. People would start at the top of the stairs and have to work their way to the door of the second bedroom. Truly my ‘Amazing Pants Maze’ would be a tourist attraction for miles around, and I could buy more Persil with the proceeds.

The only problem I can see is that I would have to buy more pants whilst my old ones were being used, which would then generate more washing. But then I could extend the maze into the second bedroom, thus providing customers with a reason to make a repeat visit.

I could probably charge a bit more at that point, and buy one of those trendy Dyson washing machines.

Hallowe’en’s a lot nicer in the Village.

I should explain to my American readers that Hallowe’en in Britain is slightly different to Hallowe’en in the States, at least as I’ve seen it, on the Roseanne show. Whereas Stateside it appears to be a pleasant, fun, family festival, over here it’s a bit like the TV footage you see of Sierra Leone or Liberia.

Anyway, the children were all nice and polite.

I was stuck for a costume for Short Tony’s Hallowe’en party. The LTLP had bought a witch’s hat for 60p at Tesco, but I was completely unprepared.

I had black trousers and a black T-shirt, so I did think of going as Simon Cowell, but then I found my granddad’s old hat, sellotaped knives to my fingers and went as Freddie Krueger.

It was quite effective, but a bit impractical as I couldn’t really do anything without knives waving around alarmingly. In the end I had to give up when Short Tony suggested we play snooker. I think he probably did this on purpose as I was scaring the children.

I think granddad would have approved. He always did an Australian Long John Silver at parties, what with him being a fairly jolly Aussie character with two artificial legs.

It was like a Dud ‘n’ Pete sketch in reverse. He was the only person there who didn’t have enough legs to play the role.