I've just finished work for the day. In the summer we open the garden by arrangement - not to the public generally - but to local garden clubs and other interested groups in aid of the National Garden Scheme charity.

The boss always sorts out the wine, so all I have to do is set out a few glasses, open the bottles, make a couple of jugs of iced elderflower cordial (home-made by moi, from flowers from the estate, only bottled this morning!) with home-grown lemon balm - and hand round a few nibbles.

So I'm tired now and looking forward to relaxing (and soup, yay). I got home at a good time, about half seven and phoned my niece Bethan, back from her travels today. She has been away, mostly in NZ and Australia, having a post-degree jolly, since before I even got accepted for the programme, so I was keen to catch up with her and to fill her in on some of my escapades.

I was flicking the channels talking to her, hoping maybe to see the trailer for the show, as someone told me in Denbigh this morning that they saw it last night (they recognised me, erk). Anyway, I got stuck in to telling Bethan about Iolo. She, like me, is no fan of the wildlife so she didn't know who he was. She shares some of my taste in men - sometimes - so I thought she might appreciate Iolo's charms.

Anyway, there I was, singing his praises, as the hunky, rugged, macho man, ever clad in dark combats, climber's fleece and surfer-dude T shirts - the big, brave Welsh hero, who held my hand on snake day and promised me everything would be okay - when I realised to my delight he was on the telly as we spoke. I could show her right there and then what I was talking about.

I told her to turn onto BBC2 quick-smart and as she did, the shot was of Iolo in a dance studio, wearing what could only be described as a baby blue flowery shirt and (surely not?) chinos, doing some kind of hideous lame-assed hokey-cokey, with the fashion presenter Lowri Turner. That pretty much stopped both of us in our tracks.
Oh, the shame, the shame. He won't care less (I don't think he cares much what anyone thinks about him really - lucky him!). In fact he looked like he was quite enjoying himself.
But Bethan now thinks I'm a big fat liar. And I'll never live it down!

I just wanted to write this down before I forgot. On the day we went up Snowdon, there had been a bit of tension between Iolo and the crew, because he was adamant that we all should walk the whole way up and not go half way by train. They disagreed (with hindsight, thank god they did - I wouldn't have made it).

Anyway we all piled onto the train and started up the track. Iolo was actually still muttering about wanting to walk and I think he felt really gutted that we hadn't been allowed to do it. Anyway about half way up, we saw this guy sitting on the side of the track, obviously someone connected to the railway, very contentedly munching his way through a large butty.

For some reason this caused us all major hilarity, the sight of him with his chops rounds this huge sandwich, just sitting there, as the train ambled towards him. We decided that the train was bringing him another sandwich and that he probably just sat there all the time, like all day and all night, with each train bringing him yet another sandwich - maybe themed according to the time of day!

The icing on the cake for me though was when Iolo piped up "and the last train brings him a pillow". For some reason I thought this was the funniest thing I have heard in a very long time and I laughed so much I nearly cried.

The last few days have been tremendous and I really mean that (most sincerely folks). I am burnt to a frazzle, eyes out on stalks because of hayfever, my thighs are burning (not in a good way), my hair is like straw, my right arm looks like raw steak and my feet don't know what's hit them.

On reflection, two remarkable things have happened to me this week (well kinda three but one not in a good way!).

- I got to the top of Snowdon. I'll say it again - I got to the top of Snowdon. Hey, we went half way on the train and the rest of it nearly killed me but what the hell, I made it!

- I abseiled - me, abseiling! ABSEILING

- I kinda fell off my diet and the wagon while in the hotel in Caernarfon, got pretty drunk and did some horribly hammy old lady flirting with Iolo and Tudor, the cameraman (fortunately I don't think Tudor noticed and Iolo was far too courteous to react with anything other than bemused politeness)

Anyway the Snowdon gig was the second coolest thing I have ever done - surpassed only by the abseiling the day before. It may only have been a few metres, down probably the lamest bit of cliff in Snowdonia. But when you stand on that edge, heart in mouth, a narrow length of nylon rope in one hand, nothing in the other hand but sweat and a whole heap of fresh air behind you, it could be the north face of the Eiger.

I still can't believe I did it, especially the second go when I decided that I knew what I was doing, lost balance, slipped and fell before I even got ready to go! Hence the right arm like a steak tartare. And the climb to the summit was just fab - pretty unpleasant on the way up as my lungs were burning and my legs kept telling me I couldn't go any further. Such a drama queen! When we got to the top Iolo produced the chocolate fudge cake I'd made for the team (I still can't believe he carried it up Snowdon) and I just felt like a million bucks.

Thursday morning I was back to work and I felt like crap to be honest. I had more canapés to prepare and beds to make and, worst of all, a riding lesson booked for the afternoon. I toyed with the idea of cancelling it and then thought, hang on that's what the pre-abseiling Kate would have done. So I made myself go, had a great lesson and realised that I've still got it, baby!

As it also coincided with my friend Gina (my favourite drinking partner and a pub landlady to boot) visiting from Devon and joining me on location, I thought I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb and decided that once in the hotel in Caernarfon, the gloves were off. I was going to have a drink (or ten).

It all started so well. We had a pleasant dinner in the hotel restaurant, all together round a big table. I was a bit disappointed that Iolo was seated a way off, but glad to have a chance to see Gina interacting with the BBC team - I had promised her that the trip would be a fun experience, even if she were not allowed to come up Snowdon with us for the filming (which she wasn't!).

As the evening wore on, the booze started to take effect (3 months of sobriety and a bottle of wine on a very empty stomach = a bit of a recipe for disaster!) - even from a distance Iolo's legs were looking increasingly appealing and my poor, alcohol-soaked brain started to think it was a shame that they were so totally out of bounds. So close and yet so far. Then Abul, who had been sitting in between us, decided a late night swim was in order - but not before he had rather generously arranged a round of champagne, to celebrate the wedding anniversary of Bethan, the programme researcher.

Seeing my chance and after several large glasses of wine, less than half my dinner, the champagne and a tiring day, it suddenly seemed (so I'm told - I don't actually remember!) like a very good idea to close the gap between my chair and Iolo's and treat the poor man, to what used to be, some of my best chat up lines. I dread to think what I said, but it would have been very, very lame indeed (and very unfaithful to the spirit of tongue-in cheek banter Iolo and I have been sharing over the last few weeks). The thing with me these days, I'm all talk and no trousers. If any man were to turn round and take me seriously, I'd run a mile!

Luckily for me, when push comes to shove, he is not only very gallant generally, but clearly a master at swerving a curve ball. He very politely excused himself - a nature documentary he wanted to watch in his room apparently - and so any further next day blushes on my part, were spared.

I've got a nasty feeling that I put my hand on his thigh, mind. And he was wearing shorts - well, he would be, wouldn't he?

Last week was not a good trip. We were told that we were camping and doing a night shoot which sounded fine in principle.

I arrived in Dolgellau full of beans and looking forward to it all - duvet, pillows, thermos, thermal pyjamas etc all safely stashed in my faithful jalopy. As it wasn't far from home I thought that at worst I could always get up and bugger off in the middle of the night! Little did I know what was to come...

We headed off into the night and to be frank, we had a hideous start. While waiting for the off, we were surrounded and assailed by the biggest cloud of midges I've ever seen in my life. They got up your nose, in your eyes and ears and all attempts to bat them away failed miserably.

We eventually had a really good time - the expert's (Iori Jones, Wildlife Conservation Ranger) foxy noises were eerily realistic and after he had put out a few calls we watched a young dog fox for quite some time, warily minding his own business foraging for food in a quiet field. That was quite special and I think one of the first times Iolo has seen me actually quite enthusiastic about an animal.

On the way back we saw loads of deer and some bats and that was all fine. Sleeping in the tent however was not! We headed for bed at around 3am and I was wide awake at 4am - cold, cramped and with the thin sleeping mat underneath me giving precious little comfort. My forehead was covered in a million bites and I seriously considered taking off - the thought of a hot shower and my own bed was so tempting. But we had been asked to stay and there was filming to be done in the morning (your classic campfire breakfast apparently).

So I opted for my car and made myself cosy, with the remains of some coffee, my duvet and pillows, the car heater and the World Service. I finally slept at about 6 and got another hour in before everyone finally surfaced, filming was done and we all headed home, another mission in the project completed!

Where does patriotism end and racism begin?

While in Dolgellau, something someone said over dinner really surprised me. A few people commented on how disappointing it was that the majority of the hotel staff were from overseas. Having lived in London for such a long time and worked with a rainbow nation of people and then been involved in the pub trade where staff can often be from anywhere in the world, I was quite surprised that anyone picked up on it at all, let alone with a negative attitude.

I suggested that the same people would not be surprised to find non-native staff in an English hotel and they agreed. I was actually a bit shocked that people seemed to be voicing quite racist views, in this, the 21st century.

I do understand the ardent patriotism of some of my fellow country men and women - but don't we want to be inclusive too? I am a proud, if non Welsh-speaking, Welsh person and I do get the whole thing about wanting to preserve the language. But surely for us to be a modern nation, Wales must move with the times. I thought that we were a country that welcomed everyone - Cardiff in particular is a place where all cultures and creeds live together and one of the city's charms is its 'immigrant communities - the Italians, Polish and Afro-Caribbeans to name a few. To me it adds nothing but richness to the culture and I take great exception to the idea that Wales is only for the Welsh.

I like to be very organised and when we have people coming I like to be able to prepare properly, nice and calm and collected - do lots of lovely things to eat and have the house looking nice, if not exactly immaculate.

Today I have six people arriving so with those already here, that's eight to feed and look after for the whole weekend.

Tonight is a relatively simple one - nibbles and champagne, main course and pudding for eight plus coffee. Tomorrow am I will need to clear all the dishes from that meal, cook breakfast, clear breakfast, provide a picnic lunch, tidy the house, then clear up from the picnic, prepare canapés, a starter, a posh main course and a pudding plus coffee tonight. Oh and I have to go to Chester to be weighed too.

Sunday am - clear Saturday night supper, cook breakfast, clear that, then cold lunch plus birthday cake. This morning, in four hours, I had to clean the whole of downstairs, clear up from the last couple of days and prepare as much of the food for tonight as possible.

This afternoon I have been into Denbigh to pick up the ironing from the last time we had guests, been to the butchers for supplies for breakfast and done a second shop at the supermarket for the weekend.

I'm away overnight Tuesday and as yet, haven't unpacked from the trip before the last one! I have a pile of formal shirts to iron like the leaning tower of Pisa (when am I going to do them?), my kitchen looks like a bomb went off in it and my sitting room is littered with shoes, dirty mugs, receipts, books and just stuff I have dumped from trips en passant.

I am really looking forward to my friend coming on Wed but at the moment owing to a number of clothes tantrums I've had preparing for trips away (will I be cold? will I be too hot? these jeans - or the size bigger? does this top make me look fat? can I get into those trousers yet? will I need this jumper or is it going to be wet....you get the idea), you can't actually open the door into the spare room, let alone actually get into the bed.

I have insisted that I have the Bank Holiday off to get myself sorted for the next trip - great in theory, but that means I only have a couple of days to make a load of cakes for a bridge party the day they return and canapés for a cocktail party for 50 the day after I get back from the next trip but one.

My brain is full. Please send help.

Today was something. Not sure what - but certainly something. To my mind, taking me to see snakes is just the height of TV bad taste. And I don't feel very good about that at all. I made my feelings perfectly clear. I'm not glad that I did it. I don't feel a sense of achievement, I just feel like they shouldn't have done it.

Oh, and now there's a man sitting in my line of vision and he has a snake tattoo over his face (honestly!) and more piercings than you can imagine. He is just the perfect travelling companion when I feel like this - not. You can't see any skin.

Today made me think a lot of bad things about the whole tv thing. I thought this was going to be fun - and it's not. The snake guy (Rhys Jones) himself was cool and in a weird way I felt a bit sorry for him because I'm sure that I was really rude and horrible. I didn't even like to think about touching him, knowing where his hands have been. He seemed really nice and I am sure he is an expert in his field but you can leave me out of that field thanks.

Iolo was great - very impressed with him. I thought he was going to be a bit of a plonker and at the very least an anorak. But he's quite empathetic and clearly sussed straightaway that I am the kinda gal who is a sucker for a big butch kinda guy. Standing behind Iolo, with the snake not far off, did really remind me of being little and having my dad there, like a big solid wall, between me and the rest of the world.

I'd quite like to still have that wall. One of the things about losing my dad and also now being divorced is I had to realise that the only way I'm going to have that kind of wall is to create it myself. I guess that's part of the reason I'm living in the wilds of North Wales. I don't really engage with the world much anymore.

Anyway, if it hadn't been for Bethan (researcher) and Iolo I would have legged it. I've got something in mind to give Bethan at the end of the filming and although Steve the producer tells me that Iolo doesn't rate reading as an acceptable activity, he actually told me he likes Ian Rankin. I just love the Rebus books and recently, after quite a gap, read what I guess will be the last of the series (as Rebus retires in it). One of the reasons I love books is that you can pass them around so I am going to take it along on Monday and hope he realises, without me having to be too cheesy about it, that it is a thank you for looking after me.

I don't actually know just yet how I am going to make sense of today. It's like another bad thing in the catalogue of bad things that have happened to me over the last few years.

I need some food and I need to get home and maybe tomorrow I can sort out my head.

Idea for a TV series - let's film the building of a new fast road down Wales (Denbigh to Cardiff preferably) that will destroy any wildlife in its path.

Serious idea - 'Civilising Iolo' - take him to the theatre (Shakespeare or something really hideous - Beckett or Ibsen - ooh I know 'Waiting for Godot' - he'd be asleep in five minutes!), shoe shopping, a spa day, cocktails somewhere classy (hmm, like the idea of him in black tie - and I am sure that would go down very well with the ladies of Wales!) Talking of that it seems like everywhere we go people recognise him. Haven't people got anything better to do?

Fed up.

PS. Alternative title for the series: 'It's not in my nature...and now it never will be.' Thanks BBC.

Tuesday was boring - looking through undergrowth for bugs is not the way to convert me to a love of wildlife. Had a nice chat with Iolo (who I think I may call Yellow from now on, much easier) about what I would prefer to be doing. He rattled on a bit about living in the moment, instead of looking to books for an escapist way of spending your time. I'm afraid that he is wasting his time if he thinks he is going to put me off reading.

Anyway, Wed was good - enjoyed the snorkelling, if not putting on the wetsuit. I don't know why they are not a bit more sensitive - like they know full well I am on a diet, having been nearly eight stone (I'll say it again - eight stone) overweight and yet they keep getting me to do things that will make me self-conscious. As for wanting to film me getting into the thing, well they had two hopes and one of them was Bob.

I don't really want to go into Thursday - snake day. Enough to say here that I was tired, cold, upset, STARVING and having not had a drink for 12 weeks, pretty keen on the idea of a stiff gin and some comfort food (STRICTLY against the diet). Having had Lello wave an egg mayonnaise sandwich under my nose that very lunchtime, I did indeed succumb to one of those but I left the gin alone, something I was really glad about the next day.

I confessed to my diet counsellor on Sat about the sandwich but she didn't seem too fussed. As I had lost 5lbs anyway, it was cool.

I'm now thinking about how I'm going to manage all the things I need to do. I think I probably prefer doing the blog as it's easier and I'm used to writing. But what I'm going to try to do is a bit of blog (blah more like) every day and think of something interesting to film on top if I can.

But there's always time for shopping - and so my next job for today is finally to get an mp3 player. I have a notoriously low boredom threshold and usually take a book wherever I go so that if I am bored I can at least read. I get very cranky if I have to persist with something after I have lost interest!

We got given some dates for filming last week and it looks like, as there are two of us in Denbigh, we might get driven to the locations (which is nice and will make life easy). But if I am going to be a passenger in a car for long periods and then hanging around while filming is done, a book isn't always going to be the answer. So maybe an mp3 is a good idea. I've resisted buying one before now as I want one with a radio too - will that be more expensive? No point in having one unless I can get the Archers!

And another thing...

I cut my finger this morning and it made me think again about this whole filming thing. One thing I will really hate is if they 'baby' me when we are out and about. This is going to sound perverse. It's just that despite not being keen on outside and being cold and/or wet, if I am to go through some rough times with this filming, I don't want them treating me like some feeble old dear!

Again it kind of goes with my feelings about not wanting to come across as an airhead. Just because I don't choose to get wet and muddy doesn't mean that I won't be able to cope if I do. That's the thing about this process - I guess there is a fair amount of navel gazing to be done as a consequence. Despite being a drama queen and a hypochondriac, I also think I have been brought up to be reasonably tough and while I wouldn't say that I welcome physical discomfort, I've always been able to deal with it and carry on (then have a hot bath and a large gin when I get home and moan about it for days to my friends!).

I don't want to be portrayed as some kind of hot-house flower, as that is simply not me. I often refer to myself as a "big strong Welsh girl" (the girl may be a tad inaccurate these days) - I'm not a wuss and I hope that I won't be portrayed like that. Because they are all so nice I think it would be very easy to trust these BBC dudes but they may not always have the same agenda as me. We'll see.

Luckily for me at the moment, part of my routine is to go to Chester one evening a week to meet some friends - so I had the drive there and back to think things over and the pleasure of telling them about the programme.

Talking of that, when I lived in Sydney, I had my numbers done. I don't know much about it but it's a bit like horoscopes - you give the date and time of your birth and the numerologist works out your number and so character traits from that.

I was a '7' and the thing that stuck in my mind was that the guy said I needed a lot of time every day to process, in peace, what had happened to me.

As someone who has chosen to live alone pretty much for the last 10 years, I can really identify with that. I hope doing this blog and the video diary will help me with that.

Anyway, Tuesday I had to get down to business, We're having a big house party for Chester races next week. I then cooked supper for the couple I look after and did some planning for the week ahead.

Wednesday the crew were coming to film me 'at home'. I was quite nervous about this, especially as they had mentioned filming a sequence of me baking a cake in the big house kitchen.

I am capable of doing more than one thing at once (as are most women I find!) but being filmed cooking and answering questions?

I guess I do quite fancy myself as Delia - but when things are just a fantasy in your head, that's one thing, that's manageable - it's just made up.

But being in a situation where you have to try to create that fantasy for real is another kettle of tuna. I didn't really want to find out that I couldn't do it. But I think that it went okay.

Overall, I enjoyed the day a lot. The crew are great and couldn't be more adept at putting you at your ease. Working with Joe Public must be hugely tiresome but they were unfailingly patient and charming.

I took the dogs up to the woods (where I felt they actually got bored even more quickly than I did - result!), talked about my childhood in the country, managed to do the cooking bit in the big house, without too much trouble and then fed one of the horses (some shots of me grimacing at the horse licking my hand might be quite funny).

After the crew left, I went and had tea and a de-brief with my boss. I have been very impressed at how incredibly supportive they have both been about this whole process.

As they are quite private people, I wasn't sure if they would want to be involved, but they have been brilliant and could not have been more encouraging and accommodating.

Thursday - back to preparations for the house party, which starts next Tuesday. I'm really into this whole BBC thing (and looking forward to one of the crew coming tomorrow to set me up with a handycam for the video diary) but have to stay focused on race week.

I love my cooking and am really excited about the menus for next week but it's a challenge and I need to be on the ball. I can't afford to be distracted.

The show features a group of us who either don't like or know very little about nature.

The intention is to either convert us or at least improve our understanding or disposition towards the wildlife of Wales through challenges undertaken with Iolo Wiliams.

I'm going to have to work on my boredom threshold which is problematically (and famously) low.

In the outdoor gear shop, after I had picked my own kit and bossed Lloyd, one of the youngest participants, around a bit (ever my forte) over his choice of hiking boots (initially hideous fluorescent green numbers), I more or less completely lost interest, got very fed up with the hanging about and wanted to move on to something else. It wasn't the kind of shop I would normally spend time in and having spent my budget, it was totally time to go for me.

Being very much an 'own agenda' person, I wanted to go, when I was ready, even if just back to the hotel, to have more coffee and read my book! I guess I'm going to have to learn to deal with that kind of thing in a more positive fashion.

Another thing I felt was hugely self-conscious - not just about the way I look to myself and people around or connected to me, but also how I am going to appear physically and personality-wise to other people. Maybe that's just confirmation of how shallow I am!

In terms of my appearance, I'm probably more aware of how I look at the moment, having become quite badly overweight recently but, since the end of February having lost four stone and so dropped two sizes.

For me, one of the things about trying to experience nature is that you have to 'dress up' and it can be difficult to find the right clothing for the job in bigger sizes. That puts you off for a start.

I don't think that now, at a size 16 on top and 18 on the bottom half that that is particularly extraordinary - apparently about 40% of British women are at least a size 16. But this shop, a major supplier in Wales' capital city, had no women's waterproof trousers above a size 14.

Eventually I had to choose men's trousers which was ok - I don't have a problem with it as I know I will need them - but waterproof trousers are hardly flattering at the best of times without having to choose ones that are cut for men. Retailers, it's time to lift your game!

People who are not necessarily sylph-like are hardly going to be encouraged to experience the great outdoors if they can't even get kit to fit them in the first place!

I also felt that my natural inclination, particularly in the shop, was to play up big time for the cameras - having always had a reputation as a bit of a drama queen, it seemed quite easy to be a complete ham and 'mug' as much as I could.

I was pleased to meet Iolo, having heard various things from other people - comments ranging from "he seems like a bit of a plonker" to "oo-er he's completely gorgeous, you lucky thing meeting him". (Guess the gender of the two people involved in that conversation!)

I thought he was better looking than he appeared on the website and very funny and charming too. But when he talks about us seeing some "amazing things" over the course of the programme, I'm totally sceptical and think he will have a hard job convincing me, charmer or not!

With hindsight, I felt like initially I was going to come over as a bit of an idiot who seriously believes that one's choice of hiking boots should be primarily influenced by the colour co-ordination between the uppers and the stripes on the laces.

I'd like to come across as a thoughtful, intelligent person who has credible reasons for not taking advantage of the countryside out there, not as some lardy airhead who only think about film stars and shoes, who just can't be bothered to take her paws out of the chocolate and get off the settee.

I don't feel I should have to justify preferring a roaring fire and a good book, to a long wet slog up a freezing hillside to see some bird I wouldn't want to look at on the telly!

I'm always going to want to go to the movies or have a lie-in, listening to the Archers with the Sunday papers and a bacon sandwich or make fresh scones for afternoon tea. I don't think I will ever be prepared to give those things up in favour of yomping across the moors on a damp afternoon.

But maybe in future a balance can be struck. It's a notion to ponder for the next bit of filming...