Hello dear 020.com readers. Long time no read. So… what’s your New Year’s resolution?

In a bid to make myself worthy of the camera I decided that a January free of alcohol was the way to go. I’ve been interviewing a lot of musicians lately and was shocked to find that my little lady video image involves a double chin. Further investigation into the ‘podgy phenomenon’ revealed that the chin is not an optical illusion, rather a bold slap in the face by evil hand of reality.

Personally, I blame my mum. A recent Christmas trip to Australia involved Kerry Spain’s gourmet food – and lots of it. The woman is incapable of whipping up a meal without going to the ends of the earth to make it special. Her troop of Spainy gannets makes Oscar The Grouch look demure, and yet she serves up culinary masterpieces to rival Gordon Ramsay’s. I’m serious; the woman can’t even heat up a pasty without first inserting some cheese and a handful of herbs. I’m not complaining but it’s no wonder my girth has grown.

My mother’s cooking not only adds to the Spain clan’s stomachs, it also contributes to the family. Over the years, boyfriends have stuck around and endured her daughters’ mood swings – just to stay in the family (and in the mouth-watering pecking order). I have a backlog of ex-boyfriends and still the greedy beggars visit my mum. I guess the way to a future son in law’s heart is indeed through his belly.

She certainly hit a home run with my latest conquest. Not only did three week’s of ‘Kerry meals’ entice my lad to visit the ‘land down under’, it tricked him into asking for my hand in marriage.

Anyone who knows me thinks he’s mad. I am after all, a walking ball of dramas. It’s hereditary you know…. my family isn’t much better. Take, for example, our Aussie Christmas. The trip from the farm to the centre of Adelaide involved the following:

1. Two cars and a boot full of household appliances.
2. Two teenage girls (PMT included).
3. One hot, flustered and extremely pale Englishman.
4. A tiny Aussie-turned English lass (that’s me) with serious ‘foot reaches clutch’ issues.
5. One giant slobbering German Shepherd.
6. Half a cow.
7. Half a pig.
8. Two baby kangaroos (live).
9. One miniscule mum.

The dog could think of nothing but the meat, the lad pondered nothing but the overpowering smell of kangaroo poo, mum was paranoid I’d crash, the teenagers talked of nothing but boys and the kangaroos made repeated attempts of escape.

We even got pulled over by the cops. At least it was for a breath test this time. That my dears, is a whole other story!

Despite all this, the Englishman still wants this little Aussie girl… even my mates couldn’t talk him out of it. So, on the 27th of December I found myself faced with a grassy knee, a ring and a lifelong commitment. Yes, you heard it; I am now officially a ball and chain. The proposal story rivals that of ‘Lord Of The Rings’ so I’ll leave the juicy details for the next instalment. In the meantime, the shock has launched me into detox and a whole new degree of self restraint. Never before has my life involved so much champagne, and damn it… I have to say no.

So, the good news is – I’m back in the world of regular column writing. The bad news? Well, no one else wanted to marry me so I guess there’s none involved. The engagement will be a long one (there’s a film title in that) and I won’t change a bit.

After all, a ring can’t make you boring can it?