Every year I make a pilgrimage to the Mayrlife medical health resort in Austria, where I spend a week on the banks of Lake Altaussee being told what to do and how to eat and when to go to bed by doctors. They seem to know far better than I what I need in order to return to London with renewed vigour.
I usually bring along someone with whom I can snigger and lament during the process. This year my sister joined me and we both landed at Heathrow decrying our former ways, desperate to cling to our newfound healthy routines.
