Unfortunately a friend, who has requested to remain nameless because he's so ashamed, hadn't bo... Being a celeb is a full-time

So much to my chagrin, I never got to see Dolly perform Harper Valley High - one of my favourite songs - or even Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene.

But despite this setback, I have been out and about in Ipswich, fulfilling a number of engagements which have left me completely unable to start my diet until tomorrow.

The Mayor's quiz, always an enjoyable evening, started my latest social whirl. The lady behind the well-stocked bar recognized me, always a boost to my confidence.

“You're the lad from the paper aren't you?” she said as she fixed me an alcopop, and a red wine for my friend Lynne who is very well known in Ipswich's theatrical circles.

“How kind of her,” I thought as I was hoping for an extra portion of obligatory buffet quiche. Why is it, just as an aside, that every buffet in the world has quiche? That is one of life's great mysteries I suppose.

Anyway, the quiz was a resounding success, enabled, if the truth be known, by my colleague Grant Sherlock's surprisingly accurate knowledge of the hits of Michael Bolton - a fact he expressly asked me not to share - and the encyclopedic knowledge of Paul Geater who just knows everything.

We took back some silverware to the office, and we would have had the cakes I bought to celebrate - if only I hadn't eaten them on the way into work.

My second engagement (gosh I sometimes wish I worked nine to five like Dolly) was at the tenth anniversary Lion's Club swimming gala at Crown Pools, where I was called upon to encourage youngsters to swim and generally be seen being seen.

Of course, having a tendency to swim rather like the Queen Mary with a load on, I didn't dare venture in. I had the feeling that the lifeguard assigned to heave me out of the pool if I took on water, lacked the necessary Geoff Capes physique. He was only young and I couldn't risk his back.

Organiser Bill Murton said the event, held for disabled youngsters from across east Suffolk, was arranged in order to give everyone the chance to take part in competitive swimming in a fun atmosphere.

Among those encouraging the competitors was ten-year-old Terri Calvesbert, who handed out some of the prizes. She was given a present by the Lions club for her support.

I've been that busy and the clocks went forward which didn't help as I woke up, forgot the time had changed, and tuned in to The Archers omnibus an hour late. Whereby, I suspect, I missed a particularly tense scene in the milking shed.

I happened to be walking along Carr Street the other afternoon, when I heard music so loud I thought I'd unwittingly stumbled into a cheap and nasty night club - admittedly a fairly easy thing to do in this town - when in fact all I was doing was walking past a shop. Instead of enticing me in I've vowed never to go back.

Even my bank, the last bastion of blissful silence, can't resist intolerable tunes to make people queue to. It's all so utterly ghastly don't you think?

As if there isn't enough noise with that awful police helicopter up every night, drunk people everywhere, people shouting at each other across the street without shame, crying babies and uncontrolled children - why are people so completely unable to bring up well behaved youngsters nowadays? - we have to hear tuneless trash every time we go and spend our over-taxed income on things we don't really need.

OUT with a friend in a trendy (only because I go there and they like celebrities) Ipswich nightspot, I asked to be surprised with a drink I don't normally have.

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