Dearest reader, the time has come for us to go our separate ways — today is my final day at the newspaper and this, try not to all cry at once, will be my final blog.

It has been a most entertaining experience having the chance to write for the literally tens of you who read these masterpieces, but alas they shall be no more.

I remember from the age of about six years old I used to be taken to the local post office by my dad.

He would pick me up and put me on the counter when he paid his bills or bought some stamps and would inevitably meet a neighbour in the queue.

He used to call it the “gossip exchange” and would chat with the postmaster about the football, the weather, "the wife" and anything else that came to mind.

I rode a bicycle for the first time in two years last week. My friend is off to France in a month to take part in a race to raise money for a cancer charity.

She came round after a training session on Sunday morning with her huge mountain bike and in my pyjamas I thought I would have a go on it.

Here at the newspaper we are regularly contacted by residents who are taking part in some charity event or other.

Sitting in a bath of baked beans, climbing mountains, jumping out of planes, you name it.

Personally I find anyone who gets off their backside to do something to raise money for those who are less fortunate pretty impressive — but this week’s story about Talya and Dani Jacobson has taken my breath away.

So here we go again.

Tomorrow night another load of misfits, cranks, weirdos and fame-hungry wannabes will pile into a makeshift house round the back of Elstree Studios and sell their souls for up to three months in the hope that one day they might just get to jump the queue at Boujis or appear on the cover of Heat.

My friend sent me an email link to something called an "all-day diet" a few weeks ago. She is the rudest telephone conversationalist as she is always eating so I told her I would stop calling her if she didn't stop munching away.

Her response was to reveal to me that in a bid to fit into a slinky black dress for her boyfriend's 25th birthday she had become a "grazer".

She had discovered the new celebrity diet where you get to eat five or six meals a day by constantly snacking in between. So like a sheep (or a cow) I followed her lead to "graze" with admittedly a very poor outcome.