YOU may remember (how could you possibly forget?) that my whole page last week was completely devoted to the Olympics.
Well, I’m not done yet. I’m totally hooked. In fact, I’ve not been this swept away by anything since I encountered a typhoon in the Pacific while cruising around in a 36-footer in the early 1980s.
And I think it’s fair to say I’m not the only one. It seems as if the whole nation is riding a huge wave of Olympic euphoria.
The best thing about it is that I don’t think anyone expected it to be quite this good. Certainly not me.
I expected I’d dip in to bits of the action here and there. But I just can’t stop watching.
I’ve not left the sofa for over a week. I’ve not washed or showered for a week. I’m a hairy, smelly, unkempt mess (what’s new? - ed).
A tough life spent on the high seas has left me long in the tooth and set in my ways.
But the first week of the London 2012 Games has had such a profound effect of me it has changed my whole outlook on life.
I’ve started to think about the meaning of life, and what I want out of the rest of my days. What my priorities now are.
The exploits of all these sports people, particularly the Brits have both exhilarated and inspired me.
After decades on the water I am even starting to think the unthinkable - selling off my rusty old tub and moving on to dry land, complete with a new mode of transport - a bike.
This is all thanks to Bradley Wiggins, of course. Being a mariner, I already have the same sort of mutton chop sideburns that have become Wiggo’s trademark.
In a matter of a few days I’ve noticed loads more people on bikes than usual, and I want a piece of the action too.
The last bike I had was a penny farthing, so it might take me a while to get used to one of these new spangly, lightweight, carbon fibre racing bikes.
But this neck of the woods is perfect for cycling, nice and flat, and I’m sure in no time at all I’ll be hurtling around like Sir Chris Hoy.
Now all I need is to start wearing some extra tight, lycra shorts. Are you ready for that, ladies?