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Saturday, August 28, 2004

Lisa's moved on from the role of muse to that of lucky charm. Following my forty quid greyhound success on her birthday, Lisa has chosen to leave the country today and make her way to Italy for a gastronomic tour of pasta restaurants. She's accompanied on this venture by a blonde who sat opposite me at Leonardo's on Wednesday and threatened me with violence if I hurt her cat (some people are just too sensitive).

(Honestly, it does annoy me when people have the nerve to knock on my door in the middle of a blog post. I've just been accosted by a young man who'd come all the way from Tollesbury in Essex to tell me that I've been specially selected from the census (I knew I shouldn't have filled that thing in) to keep a 'Rajar' book for a week, recording my radio listening habits in order to compile the official audience figures. I generously let him through the front door and we spent an enjoyable 15 minutes on my sofa discussing the fact that this is the only job he's been able to get since graduating, and no one else wanted to come to Shotley Gate. I got a free pen out of it, and a book with stickers to record my radio listening for seven days, starting on Monday morning at 4am. I told him I'm not getting up specially. He said he'll be back in nine days time to collect my book, and entered me into a prize draw open only to men aged 25-34 (so Lisa would miss out on both counts). It's quite exciting. Especially as I only ever listen to Hawksbee & Jacobs on TalkSport. Their audience figures are going to go through the roof.)

Anyhoo, Lisa phoned me from Gatwick airport at lunchtime to prove that she was getting into the swing of things already by stuffing herself with a ham and brie bagel. In between mouthfuls she assured me that she'd miss me, and would come home fat, after which I bid her farewell and turned my attention to the afternoon's horse racing.

It just so happened that one of the major races of the afternoon featured a horse called... (brace yourself)...


Well I don't need any more encouragement than that to slap my money down. I'd have backed the thing anyway, but with the airport tannoy still ringing in my ears, I knew I couldn't lose, so I was persuaded to wade in a bit beyond my usual 50p each way. And the result..?

Gatwick won.

So did I. To the tune of £90. Making an overall profit for the afternoon of £128. Marvellous. I've got a week to spend it before Lisa gets back.