While Helen's been unsettling the people of Blackheath with her sweary workout sessions, I've started a fitness regime of my own. But I decided not to go with a personal trainer, because I am a strong believer in autonomous achievement and self-motivation, i.e. I really hate being shouted at.
 
So instead I downloaded a Couch-to-5K app for my iPhone. You boot up the app at the start of each half-hour running session, and a woman with a soothing voice tells you when to run and when to walk. There's a bit more of the former and a bit less of the latter each time. The idea is that at the end of eight weeks and 24 sessions, you are able to skip round 5K routes like Kate Hudson in that advert, except without being so smug about the fact you're selling leggings.
 
I completed a C25K programme five years ago, so initially I was confident I could do it again. Then, about 45 seconds into the first run, I remembered some important things:
 
1. I was five years younger then.
2. I have since had two children.
3. I should have done more pelvic floor exercises.
4. Like, about 28,000 more.
5. Running is really fucking hard, actually.
 
But I pressed on, returning home 29 minutes later, bright red and soaked with sweat. "Wow!" said my husband, "You must have worked really hard! What's the longest interval you ran for?"
 
"A minute," I said, collapsing on the sofa. "I've got to hydrate. Bring the wine. I'll need the whole box."
 
If you'd told me then that in seven weeks' time I'd be running for 25 minutes straight, I'd never have believed you - but that's where I am now. I'd be lying if I said I enjoyed every one of those 25 minutes. I feel painfully out of breath, exhausted, fed up and ready to quit for at least 23 of them.

Helen writes:
 
With Halloween drawing near, it's time to celebrate all things spooky and scary. But I ain't afraid of no ghosts, or witches, spiders, devils, or any of that... Although there are few things more terrifying than a sugar-crazed four year-old in a skeleton pirate costume who's just eaten his own weight in Haribo.
 
But if you really want to frighten me, just hide all the wine in my house, and tell me to run to the shops. Because alongside running out of Sauvignon Blanc, my biggest fear is EXERCISE.
 
Here are the things that terrify me about even attempting physical activity:
 
1. Wetting my pants in public
2. Farting loudly (both holes)
3. Excessive sweating in weird places
4. Extreme pinkface
5. Throwing up, possibly on the instructor
6. Heavy drooling
7. Doing all of the above at once
 
These fears are not unfounded. Imagine if Shrek was pink and had an Australian accent - that's me when I exercise. So given the choice, I'd never do it again.
 
Sadly, my doctor has told me I really do need to move off the couch and away from the biscuit tin. So I've decided to grow a pair (of legs), take a deep breath, and tell my fear of exercise to Fuck Off.
 
Just to be clear, this isn't about getting thin or trying to look like Elle Macpherson - I've been down that road before, and I know it only leads to delusion and failure. I've decided to make a change because after seven years of motherhood I feel so much stronger emotionally, and I want my body to have that same resilience. Also I'd really like to stop aching and leaking all the time.
 
I'm too lazy to do it on my own, so I've enlisted the help of the fabulous Kirsty and Suzie ("THE SUZINATOR") from Wonder Woman Workshops in South East London. They specialise in women-only workouts and nutrition, and allow mums to bring along kids.

At our preliminary meeting, I confessed my fears of pissing over yoga mats and audibly fanny farting. They laughed. "Don't worry," said Suzie, "Everybody does it, and we don't care!"
 
This sealed the deal, so I signed up to a six-week personal training and nutrition plan.
The first session took place on Blackheath Common, and I turned up in genuine Active Wear, having done 97 pelvic floor exercises on the bus. I felt nervous as I noticed the pile of kettle bells and realised I was there to work.
 
Suzie was amazing - funny, supportive, but unforgiving, and I liked that. She tasked me with doing 50 squats, 30 burpees, 30 sit-ups and a run. I started off with enthusiasm, but by squat 25 the thigh burn had kicked in and I began to think longingly of my sofa. I spent the rest of the session running, squatting and sweating while yelling out "OH MY FUCKING ARSE," much to the horror of the nicely-dressed ladies of Blackheath passing by.
 
But I DID IT. And all with just a few farts and a tiny bit of wee! The last time my body worked that hard, I got a baby at the end of it, but this time I was glad to finish without something falling out of my vagina. Success!
 
As I walked back to the bus stop, I realised I was smelly, sweaty and bright pink, as predicted. But I didn't care. I had conquered my fear of exercise, and that made me feel less like Shrek and more like Wonder Woman. I can't wait for week two. 

A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or  iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies.

We are performing our Scummy Mummies Christmas Show on Saturday 5 December.
The Amersham Arms, New Cross, 7.30pm. Tickets only £6. Buy tickets now.

Helen writes:

On Monday 28th September I headed off to the British Library to attend the Radio Academy's 2015 Festival. This annual event brings together extraordinary speakers from around the world, talking about the future of radio and extraordinary global projects. The line-up of speakers was jaw-droppingly good, including my podcast hero Helen Zaltzman, and the BBC's Fi Glover, Emma Barnett, Chris Evans, Annie Mac and Beats 1 DJ , Zane Lowe.

I was lucky to attend, as I had won a place from the brilliant organisation Sound Women, who support raising the profile of women in audio. I was so thrilled to have the chance to spend two days just listening, learning and meeting people who work in audio. And to be honest, as mother of small children I was genuinely excited about having two full days out of the house with a buffet lunch. Dreamy.

And it did not disappoint, it was amazing to be inside an auditorium filled with leading presenters and producers from around the country, actual proper audio professionals, as well as nerds, such as myself. For the first time I felt the work we do on Scummy Mummies was part of something bigger than our lounge. Podcasting, is for the most part is a lonely occupation, whilst Ellie and I record episodes together, the pre and post production side is done alone in our tracksuits sitting in our kitchens, usually eating cheese. At the festival however, I was brushing past the heads of BBC and commercial radio stations - it was my first 'photocopier chat' moment with imaginary colleagues. Going to these events by yourself can be overwhelming and daunting, however most people were chatty and smiley. And of course, they have to talk to you when they are waiting in awkward silence in the toilet cue and buffet line.

The festival was split into two separate days, the first being the technology focussed TechCon. I was prepared to be utterly confused by new technologies and industry speak, but came away inspired, enlightened and slightly less confused. Hosted by the fabulous Helen Zaltzman, the day was filled with speakers from the Head of the British Library, to Norwegian Digital Radio specialists to presenters from South Sudan's Eye Radio.

It was Eye Radio's presentation that struck me the most. They explained the vital importance of radio to the South Sudanese communities, especially as many lacked electricity, telecommunications and were facing war. During their presentation, they also made a plea for design engineers to create 'bullet-proof equipment', as they had been attacked several times during periods of conflict. The photos of transmission equipment with bullet-holes will stay with me for a long time. It was grounding to consider that radio is still a lifeline to so many, and not just entertainment or that podcast that keeps you company on a commute. I also felt encouraged to continue my path in audio, especially as there seemed very few women were in attendance, and I was reminded that the tech-based professions are still very much dominated by men. 

Day Two, was the main event! It started with the BBC's Helen Boaden and Sue Ahern, discussing the importance of networking in your career and the do's and don'ts. It was heartening to hear many people from the audience talk about how 'weird' and 'difficult' the whole process of networking is for them. Sue Ahern recommended to always offer something first, before asking anything of a new contact and Helen Boaden emphasised the value of 'grabbing a cup of tea' with peers. I instantly wrote down all my potential 'cup of tea' dates and felt inspired by these fabulous women.

Following this impressive start, the conference continued to be a rapid fire of extraordinary speakers and topics. From 9am until 6.30pm we sat in the Auditorium listening to Chris Evans talk about filling Wogan's shoes, Christian O'Connell talk about his hilarious encounters with negative online feedback, as well as Max Greaf from RadioActive talk about his work in developing countries, setting-up radio stations in isolated communities. We also watched Richard Curtis via skype talk about the Global Goals project Radio Everyone and were linked up to Canadian, Indonesian and Eastern European radio announcers who were involved in the project, it was like a mini-Eurovision. I also have to mention the lunch, not just the buffet, but that Jamie Cullen serenaded us in the British Library Atrium as part of a launch of Jazz FM. Swoon. What a morning!  

Cullen aside, one of the  real highlights was Fi Glover's presentation about Radio 4's Listening Project. Having listened to the programme on Radio 4, I was both keen to hear Glover speak, as well as visit the caravan where the stories have been recorded around the country. Before her talk began, each audience member was handed a Radio 4 blindfold, which caused much hubbub and a few whispered filthy jokes. As a group, we all sat in the darkness and listened to a recording of two hilarious women chat about their friendship. We all laughed together and it felt like they were sitting next to us sharing a cuppa. This moment encapsulated why I love audio and why most people were there. It is the simple act of sharing stories and personal experiences that drives people in the industry and is why it will always remain so culturally valuable.

And it was Janet Street Porter's presentation that brought this message home to me even more. In her presentation "The BBC: Time to Get Humble" she criticised BBC executives for not representing their audiences, saying that it had become too middle-class and like Waitrose. Whilst there was some guffaws and cheers, there was some nervous laughter as well, as Street Porter stated that more regional accents needed to be represented and that the BBC needed to reflect the real people sitting at home like the Goggleboxers. Her talk was short, sharp and direct, she then exited with cheers and applause.

I didn't think anyone could top Ms Street Porter, until Nicky Pattinson marched onstage holding a bottle of Diet Coke and large smile. Her presentation of 'How to tell the world who you are' blew the audience away, Pattinson's skill is in transforming businesses into selling machines, and I it was clear she was brilliant at it. She gave advice about selling yourself to your audiences, with honesty and heart and her presentation was littered with swears, laughter and explosive enthusiasm, just the lift we needed at 5.30pm . It was sadly cut short because an earlier session went on far too long, which was a real shame, as an independent podcaster, any advice about promotion, branding and engaging more listeners is so valuable.

The day ended with drinks in the British Library and an opportunity to 'network'. I met and drank a lot of wine, as well as spoke to many inspiring women working in all aspects of the audio industry. As I walked back tube station, I felt warm with wine and also with a greater sense purpose for what the Scummy Mummies podcast does. We might just share filthy stories of motherhood and parental shame, but these are the stories that our listeners value around the globe and what makes them laugh and feel normal, and for me, that is so rewarding and is what drives my career in this extraordinary industry.  

Thank you to Sound Women who enabled me to go to such brilliant event. If you work in audio, then join up with them today. http://www.soundwomen.co.uk/

A new episode of The Scummy Mummies Podcast is released every fortnight - listen free via scummymummies.com or  iTunes. We're on Facebook and Twitter - @scummymummies.

We are performing our Scummy Mummies Christmas Show on Saturday 5 December.
The Amersham Arms, New Cross, 7.30pm. Tickets only £6. Buy tickets now.
 

Ellie writes: What makes The Great British Bake-Off so British? It's not the cake. It's not the bunting. It's not the rain. It's not Mary Berry or her grumpy Scouse minion. It's the fact that the Bake-Off is in the tradition of that classic British pastime: watching someone attempt something really hard, and bollocks it up.  
 
Our history is peppered with examples of this - look at Eddie the Eagle Edwards, or Richard Branson's attempts at hot air ballooning, or any sport since 1966. We love failure, and we're brilliant at it.
 
Let's be honest, the best bits of the Bake-Off aren't when someone successfully constructs a three-tiered model of Westminster Abbey out of shortbread and spun sugar. They're when someone has a tantrum over a curdled custard, or throws a cake in a bin.
 
These moments are important because they represent another great British tradition - deciding something's too difficult, and therefore not even bothering to attempt it. I love cooking, but I hate baking, with all the emphasis on exact measurements and correct oven temperatures. I don't have the time, will or energy to pipe meringue swans, or worry about the overpowering nature of rosemary. And don't get me started on macaroons. I will simply say this: FUCK MACAROONS.
 
Basically, the Bake-Off reinforces my prejudices: making cakes is a load of fucking effort, and will almost certainly end in disaster. Best just to forget about it while you tuck into another Mr Kipling fondant fancy.
 
But while I'm reassured by the disasters, it's not that I take pleasure in the contestants' misery. I did feel sad for Dorret as I watched the six-layer gateau she'd just spent a day building collapse into soup. And so did her rivals in the tent, visibly and genuinely. The contestants feel each other's pain and help each other out when things go wrong, which is another very British trait.
 
(As far as most of us are concerned, anyway;  if David Cameron was running the Bake-Off tent, he'd announce an egg shortage, and take an egg off each baker with the least eggs to give to the person who already had the most. Then tell everyone to be grateful Jeremy Corbyn wasn't giving their eggs to terrorists.)
 
It was the final, however, that really summed it up for me. Nadiya was never a clear winner; she had ups and downs throughout the series, coming last in the Technical Challenge as close as the semi-final. "I've bollocksed it up," she sobbed to camera, "I've totally fucking fucked it." (I'm paraphrasing here, but we all know what she was thinking.)
 
But she kept calm and made a peacock out of Rice Krispies, won the whole bloody thing, and then declared there must have been some kind of mistake. Again, this is a classic British trick - being as surprised as anyone when it turns out we're not totally crap.  

If you've got a child at school or nursery, you're probably familiar with WOW cards. Parents are supposed to fill them out and hand them in to celebrate their children's achievements, like counting to ten, playing nicely etc. But what if we were more honest with our WOW cards? Here, some Scummy Mummies reveal the things that really make them proud... 

1. Mmm, tapas