I looked at myself in the mirror, last night, and was suddenly struck by my resemblance with the Mary Magdalene of biblical reference.

The long dark hair and mediterranean looks definitely help. Am I the one 'out of whom seven devils came forth'? Interesting question, and intriguing character: for, if we are to believe the sacred texts, she is the one Jesus loved the most and used to kiss 'on her mouth'. Now, I am fairly confident that, had I lived in those times, I would have been the one Jesus kissed on her mouth, simply because I cannot resist the limelight and would have been attracted by his charisma; if only to discuss religious and social matters with him, followed by a very public argument.

Why the devils? And the subsequent kissing? Rather like the cads of modern times, Mary Magdalene would have had a certain appeal to the opposite sex population: dark, feisty and with a rich past, Mary's spirit would probably have been as strong as that of 'seven devils'. Attraction would have been an obvious outcome for the virgin son of a carpenter, who would not have had access or the means to gain the services of a famous prostitute.

Nevertheless, even Mary Mgdalene is forgiven; actually, Mary Magdalene is forgiven not despite of her sins, but because of them. Isn't there a priceless fascination in sin itself?

Wasn't the Dark Lord originally the head of all Angels? Falling from a great height does not delete the memory of having once BEEN up there, it merely makes the fall all the more dramatic. What would be the point in Jesus forgiving Mary the Little Housemaid for stealing a morsel of bread? Hardly worth the trouble.

This Mary Magdalene here, though, has a very big height to fall from, and must be careful, although carrying the intentions in one's heart must surely be as sinful as fulfilling them.

Mr Vroom has suggested a stroll down the river bank to double check those under-water branches; I can envisage my long hair swishing in the breeze whilst I negotiate the rabbits' holes on my wedge sandals (potential adulteresses do not wear gardening boots, you understand) and hot pants. He, on the other hand, has just gone for his stress-induced ECG, a test necessary to pass in order to renew one's racing driving licence. Ah! I have been trying to be his living 'practice test' for the last two weeks...

Would it still be a good idea to go down the river bank, after his ECG? And if Mary Magdalene could be freed of her seven devils and be regularly kissed on the mouth, what can I expect from Mr Vroom?

I suppose he can expect the kiss of life from me if it all proves to be too much for one day.