I imagine the book was recommended by a kind friend who, seeing that he really wasn't coping with the little woman being up the duff, thought it might take the pressure off. It's definitely designed for the man who thinks even a pink shirt might compromise his masculinity.
I was listening to a playlist headed up by Mike Oldfield, and including Jon & Vangelis and the Alan Parsons Project. I needed something soothing after last night's Pride Of Britain Awards.
Not so strenuous, but a ceremony which in the past I've thought rather mawkish was a bit more stiff upper lip this year. When you see a bunch of ex-Battle Of Britain pilots standing on the stage, showing off their medals it's hard not to feel proud. And the child who lost his eyes to cancer, the policeman who was blinded by Raoul Moat and the man who risked his own life jumping onto the Tube tracks to save a drunk - it's an over-used word but they're heroes one and all.
I felt like such a non-person. I don't do anything good. But at least it was awash with famous faces. I like to catch and eye and smile, and did so with everyone from Nick Clegg to Cheryl Cole to Tom Jones to Bruce Forsyth to Phillip Schofield to Russell Brand to Adrian & Christine to (yes) Lord Sugar to Simon Cowell to Camilla Parker-Bowles. I high-fived all X Factor contestants, told each one I voted for them and got to tell Wagner he looked like Robert Downey Jr.
A good night was had by all. Now where's that VSO application form...
