When I said I planned to do nothing for two days, it obviously included blog posts, but the good news (or bad news, depending on your point of view), is that I'm back! And I'm full of the spirit of hogmanay. Well actually I'm full of cheese straws and Kit-Kats, but that's the fault of Lisa's mother.

The highlight of Lisa's brief stay in Shotley Gate was undoubtedly my decisive victory in 'The Big Fat Quiz of the Year'. Lisa may have known who made the tea at Band Aid, but my superior knowledge of Hell's Kitchen and Sven Goran Eriksson's sex life enabled me to seize victory at the end. It was just a shame we didn't have any money riding on it.

Having proved myself the fount of all world knowledge, I returned Lisa to Brighton on Tuesday evening, in time for our 7 month anniversary on Wednesday, a landmark we celebrated with a visit to the drive-thru McDonalds. We're nothing if not classy. Lisa also managed to get to work an hour late, take twice as long for lunch, and then leave an hour and a half early. Which is the kind of work ethic I admire.

On the downside, it barely gave me enough time to browse Brighton's charity shops and buy clothes which don't fit me. I did get a pair of Calvin Klein jeans for £4.49, and they do fit me, but of course with Christmas over, I'm now going to start losing weight like nobody's business (no, really), so it's only a matter of time before they're falling down around my ankles.

Which is a common sight in the parks of Brighton.

Anyhoo, I did make it to the 'Africa Collection' shop where I bought many of my more rustic Christmas presents at the end of October. I was naturally thrilled to find that everything in the shop is now 50% off the marked price, and I could've saved an absolute fortune if my family hadn't insisted on having presents on the 25th. But I've learnt my lesson. They're getting nothing now until January 2006.

I returned to Shotley Gate late last night to find that one of my neighbours was clearly banking on me staying in Brighton for the new year, and had taken advantage of my absence by outrageously parking in my designated parking space. Which is probably a big enough event to make the next issue of 'The Shotley Noticeboard', under the headline 'Parking Fury in Tudor Close'.

If I was my neighbour at number 3, I'd have reacted by calling in the army and having the offending vehicle blown up (not that I'm suggesting he's intolerant), but me being me, I just parked elsewhere and chose to respond by quietly moaning to anyone who'd listen.

It obviously worked - the car disappeared an hour ago. Hurrah! Another victory for incessant whining.