Tuesday: Have been christened "a walking miracle" by doctors. All theoretical, since I'm flat on my back in a hospital bed, but miracles are like that.
Am assured I can still walk, but not quite yet. Violent assault by Goldfish Action Group's chairman, David, missed damaging my spinal cord by a millimetre, but has left me with broken arm, head-to-toe bruising and hallucinations.
I imagined that Keira Knightley was sitting by my bedside reading to me from How to Get On in the Charity World by Simon Blabb as I slipped in and out of consciousness over the weekend. But Vorderman, Neanderthal flatmate, Countdown addict and currently born-again Mother Teresa, assures me it's no dream.
Was on way to meet Keira to persuade her to become GAG patron when the attack took place. When she heard my excuse for standing her up, she came and kept vigil. Just as well she and Vorderman did, because David is behind bars and my parents insisted on booking ahead to get cheap rail fares up from Devon, so they won't be here until next Tuesday.
Wednesday: Just been visited by police. They want to know if I want to press charges against David - for attempted murder.
Thursday: Wake from dream about Keira mopping my brow, hoping that she's really there - but instead I see face of Anka, ex-lover, mother-to-be of my baby and Mrs David.
Try closing my eyes again but she grabs my ankle and starts weeping all over my plaster. All a terrible mistake, she explains. David was under the impression I had shopped him to Charity Commissioners for making secret loans via GAG accounts to the Conservatives. He thought it was my revenge on him for taking her.
He just wanted to talk when he assaulted me, she says, and meant no harm.
Long enough silence follows for me to suspect she's gone. Open eyes to see heavily pregnant Anka lying on floor next to bed, breathing heavily.
Just then Keira walks in. Anka screams at her: "The baby's coming."