4 Days to go. And if I had a pound for every message I've received informing me of this fact I'd be *surrounded by Jimmy Choo's shoes by now. (*Sort of.)

It's not like I need reminding, I've been trying to forget. But it seems that the rest of the nation is quite excited by our TV adventure, considerably more so than I am. :-/ And to think I thought none of you would care. 

I guess I'd be excited too, if it was one of you I mean, alas none of you are quite as naive and silly as I am. :-/

Don't get me wrong, I'm anxious, but I'm not suicidal or anything. I'm not wanting the ground to open and swallow me whole, (though I probably will on Thursday.) In fact sometimes I experience a teeny tiny sensation that could almost be described as excitement, but then I hear a little voice in my head and a whole bunch of rocks appear in the pit of my stomach and bring me back to reality with a bit of a thud. 

'Well she's very attractive and quite glamorous et cetera . . . But that doesn't count for much round here.' 

Of course If I were a boy I'd probably be quite chuffed with this comment from one of the villagers of Grassington. I'd probably grin, shrug and be quite satisfied with the thought that someone said I was attractive on the telly. But I'm not a boy. I'm a girl. (Yes I am.) And everyone knows girls don't focus on the positive things people say. It's not in our genes to do so.

So I guess the villagers of Grassington had me down as just a pretty face? They should see me chasing my chickens, in wellies and PJ's, hair scraped back, mud flying . . . haha. 

It's not really a big surprise to me that I've been portrayed as a bit of a ditzy bird. Because, (here's where you're supposed to feign shock!) I can be a little bit ditzy. (I messed about with bleach far too much as a teenager.) I hope people don't assume that that means I don't have a brain though, because if they do make that assumption I shall probably spend the rest of my life trying to prove otherwise, (which, let's face it, for a ditzy bird might just be a little too much effort . . . !)

The other day I had another random flashback, of my trying to navigate through Grassington square, negotiating, (badly) some kind of relations between my (very beautiful) stilettoed boots and the (also very beautiful) cobbled village streets. I think, though I cannot be sure, that I stumbled quite impressively, at least twice. On camera. (Okay ground, now you can open.)

I should stop moaning though, cos I'm not getting half as much grief as my darling husband Del Boy is. ;-) (It's okay Mum, Dad, it could have been worse. I could have married a 'Trigger'?!) hahahahaha!

Oh dear family and friends, please do accept my sincerest apologies in advance for what you are about to see. I hope you'll still love us come 10 o'clock on Thurs eve? And I hope we don't embarrass you too much.  

And dear residents of Grassington, especially those of you who were really, really nice to our faces, if you have reason to believe C4 may have caught you accidentally slating Del and I or bitching about us behind our backs please do speak now... 

Waterproof mascara and fluffy pillows at the ready. . . here goes nothin'!

Love to all 

Stephie x x x