I’m never one to dutifully swallow PR-speak, but I think this time they might have a point.

I had an email today telling me all about this new phenomenon that’s (supposedly) sweeping the nation. It’s called “Weekendvy” and, apparently, lots of us have it.

Yeah, right.

“Weekendvy” is pretty simple: we have very dull lives so decide to lie about. It works like this, come Monday morning you boast to your work-mates / mum-mates / anyone who is willing to listen, that you spent your weekend taking the kids to the zoo, having a romantic meal out with your other half and shopping for clothes in that amazing new boutique down the road. When, actually, you spent Saturday trailing round the supermarket and Sunday sitting around in your pants watching Countryfile. Get it?

Errr…

Now, call me competitive (I know, I know, at it again, can’t help myself) but when I hear on a Monday morning about the amazing weekends other mums at baby and toddler group had, I just can’t help myself. They went to the farm, or to soft-play, or had a romantic weekend break with the man, or had a night out with the girls. They most certainly didn’t sit around in their pants watching Countryfile. I panic  - why am I so rubbish at doing weekends – and cook up something about a family trip swimming and a meal out with the (self proclaimed) Northern Love Machine.  Phew – got away with it this time…

But all this has got to stop. I really must stop bending the truth about my weekends. So hands up, I admit it: I do enjoy a spot of Countryfile in my pants on a Sunday. And in the last eight months I have only been out for one meal with the (self proclaimed) NLM. He is so romantic he took me to an All-You-Can-Eat Chinese.

Ah, that feels better, what a load off my mind. Right, I’m off to clean the boat. We’re going yachting this weekend don’t you know…