Saturday: It’s time for the review of the year – and what a year it has been weather fans. I took over the role in April and set myself up as a formidable expert on weather, particularly rain. Since then, I have been called upon to heroically rescue a fox from the jaws of death as it struggled to escape from a crisp packet, struggled to get out of a supermarket alive and ruled myself out of running for Mayor of London. Dry.

Sunday: I’ve given you some patchy details about my blossoming love life – including a near disastrous experience at a fish restaurant and an aborted effort to go on a blind date. In 2009, I shall continue on my quest to find myself a weathergirl. However, in the meantime, I’ll keep my faithful readers informed of the various scrapes and pitfalls which are a rather too frequent part of my life. Cloudy.

Next week: And finally, this year I am left with the task of thanking our sub editor, who faithfully, week by week, edits my incessant ramblings into a coherent blurb and makes me look vaguely normal. On the one week he goes away on holiday, I manage to use the word “womble” accidentally. And he even filled in for me when I was lost, Bear Grylls style, in the deepest darkest recesses of... Northern France. Drizzle.