Off to visit the in-laws again. Ok - first-born is. I'm dropping her off and then going to talk to her godfather.

Sadly, this chap isn't some Brando-like figure, sitting like a spider in a web of organised crime.

No, he runs a health club specialising in alternative therapies.

Now, I'm not a spiritual person (in fact, I'd go so far as to say I'm a born-again atheist and well endowed with traditional British cynicism) and if I get an odd pain, I'd see a doctor before letting somebody with unverifiable training stick needles in me or dispense hot water containing trace elements of various herbs.

But I do like float-tanks.

If you've never experienced a float-tank, you should. Pitch black, silent, and the saline in the water (at least, I think thats what it is) maintains your buoyancy. Short of running a mini-marathon or going on a REALLY fast rollercoaster, I can't think of anything that leaves me more invigorated afterwards with the brain fizzing like someone's tipped some Space Dust into it.

This chap also cooks a mean breakfast.