My four year old son, Jack has a love/hate relationship with insects. He remains fascinated by them and desperate to discover which ‘garden animals’ he can find when we’re busy gardening. But in the same breath, he seems uncomfortable around spiders and any insect which moves quickly.

So you can imagine how apprehensive I was when he got an invitation to a birthday party for one of his classmates which involved getting up close to insects. The day came and the class of four and five year old’s sat expectantly in a semi-circle opposite a line of cloaked cages. Jack remained engaged but showing no emotion whatsoever.

The first insect came out (a stick insect). His interest was pricked further and he demanded to hold it, even though it was more interested in climbing up his arm (at what would normally be too fast a speed for Jack). He smiled and laughed at how it was tickling his cheek.

Then out came a tortoise. My son couldn’t get a hold of him quickly enough – prizing him out of his handler’s grip and asking all sorts of questions about his appearance (the tortoise not the handler).

I briefly looked away to reset the camera on my phone. I looked up and my heart sank. Sitting on my perfect little boy’s tiny palm was a tarantula. I’m not bad with insects. I remove 95 per cent of the spiders from our house as my husband and two sons run screaming for the hills. But spiders with leg hair are simply unpleasant. They have large abdomens and they weave webs that resemble Christmas bunting. I stifled a scream. Jack was captivated, fascinated and most of all….completely calm.

The lesson that day came courtesy of the tarantula’s handler, Owen. Who, looking around the room of silent, grinning youngsters simply uttered: ‘Proof that phobias come from parents, not children’.

Faithful companions in life often take the form of a partner, a family pet or maybe even a teddy that you’ve had since birth. One of mine is my hairdryer – or should I say ‘was’. After twelve years of faultless service, it finally blew it’s last breath at 7.03 this morning. I am in mourning. Yes, it had lost its back plate, therefore allowing all manner of things into the electrical gubbins inside (including some of my hair as it happens, which led to its demise). It was also littered with souvenir scuffs from various house moves and it’s plug was a little withered after having me stand on it numerous times in the morning rush.

But here’s why I got so attached to that little electrical appliance. It was a Christmas gift from my parents. It blew my hair straight on the night that my husband proposed to me in the Dominican Republic. It blew my hair dry on my wedding day and came with me half way across the world on my honeymoon (admittedly to be left untouched in the case because it was too hot and humid to even consider blow drying my hair). It was in my hospital bag when I had my first son (and believed, stupidly, that I might have any time to do my hair with small children). So, it’s been through some pretty big life moments and has survived long beyond the years I predicted for it.

RIP my faithful companion.

During the filming of Titanic, Leonardo diCaprio used to make fun of co-star Kate Winslet’s feet. That’s what she admits – because she has, for a woman, rather large feet. Leo used to call them her “canoes”. They’re a size 9. But that’s nothing, compared to other “Bigfoot” lady celebrities, because Sandra Bullock’s feet are size 9.5, Angelina Jolie a size 9, Elle MacPherson an enormous size 10 and Jerry Hall a whopping 10 and a half! As if that’s not surprising enough, on Sky News this morning, presenter Eamonn Holmes asked the ladies around his newsdesk to confess the size of their feet – and they were all 9s and 10s. So what’s going on? And are men’s feet expanding too?

Great news.

72 is now the new thirty.

So I’ve got years and years to go before I ever have to acknowledge middle age. Scientists have found that a primitive hunter gatherer at 30 years old would have the same odds of dying as a 72 year-old in a developed country today. It’s because we’re all living longer, healthier lives. Either that, or its propaganda designed to make us all accept that we’ve got to work a lot longer before finally snuffing it.

Today is the second fast day of my week. I'm going to check out these zero-calorie noodles everyone is talking about - they're made from some weird Japanese plant called Konjac. They can't be actually zero - we reckon they must be about 10 calories per pack - but reviews range from how dreadfully un-tasty they are, to how they can be incorporated into almost any dish in order to bulk and satisfy as would pasta, bread, rice or potato.

As someone who loves bulky carbs, I'm looking forward to trying them out. Buying some (available at all good health food shops) on my way home and I'll give a totally objective review tomorrow!

Wish me luck!