These escapes from Brighton are getting later and later. Three weeks ago it was an 11:50pm departure time, last week 12:10am, last night 12:35am. Still, it won't be long before I'm driving home in the light, which will be nice.

I arrived back to find that someone had kindly left a large ladder leaning against the side of my flat by my living room window. Fortunately it wasn't a burglar after my £20 stereo (I couldn't give that away), but was in fact a scaffolding team with designs on my dodgy chimney stack. As we speak, a demolition squad are on the roof knocking half the building down. I feel like one of the three little pigs.

But I couldn't eat a whole one. Perhaps a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea.

(I really should be more ashamed of these jokes.)

Anyhoo, as luck would have it, I'm perfectly capable of getting to bed at 3:30am and being out the next morning, so I'm off to visit my Big Sis, who has agreed to pop over from America long enough for me to see her for a couple of hours. Which means I had to buy her a birthday present yesterday. Dammit.

Oh, and for all you duck memorial fans, I feel there could be a few new epitaphs about to be written...