Well, another sleepless night. Honestly, this menopause thing is getting harder by the hour. I’m basically boiling alive while simultaneously freezing my toes off. Who designed this? Because I’d like a word. And the streetlights outside? Why are they bright enough to land a plane? I might as well sleep on the pavement at midday, same effect, fewer electricity bills.

And don’t even get me started on Married at First Sight Australia. I put it on to relax, thinking the chaos might make me feel better about my own life. Instead, I’m wide awake at 1am whispering, “Why are you crying, babe? You met him 48 hours ago.” It’s like watching emotional speed dating with hair extensions. No wonder I can’t sleep. Even my menopause hot flushes are pausing to watch the drama.

At this point, I’ve drunk so much chamomile tea I could be classed as a herbal plant. The lavender spray has stopped working too, I’ve basically fumigated my pillow to the point it smells like a spa that’s given up hope. Tonight I might try watching something boring, like a documentary on the history of gravel.

Today’s agenda was Admin Armageddon. Honestly, my Excel spreadsheets have multiplied like gremlins. Every time I close one, three more appear. My laptop is moments away from filing a workplace harassment claim. Phone calls flying in, emails everywhere, plus the school run, because apparently being a mum is a lifelong, unpaid job.

But at least the roads are finally calming down. The private schools break up tomorrow, so next week the traffic might actually be bearable. I might even drive without shouting at strangers through a closed window. Might.

And despite all this chaos, I am buzzing for the I’m a Celebrity… Coming Out Show. Give me the gossip, the drama, the interviews, the behind-the-scenes tea, I’ll be sitting there with my herbal tea (that no longer works), menopause fan on full blast, and the optimism of someone who thinks tonight might be the night they actually sleep. (It won’t be.)