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Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Despite weather forecasts to the contrary (and fervent prayers from Lisa, who didn't particularly want to get out of bed at 7am), we failed to get snowed in on either Monday or Tuesday, so sadly I was forced to leave Brighton and return home last night.

Not being situated on the balmy south coast, Shotley Gate had borne the brunt of the winter weather, and was covered in snow, a fact which was brought home to me when my car went into a sudden spin on the bend half a mile from my flat, and I came to a standstill facing in the opposite direction on the wrong side of the road.

Which proves the value of coming home late at night when there's no traffic around. A couple of hours earlier and I might not be here now writing this blog post. (I'm not saying I'd be dead, but I might have sprained my typing finger).

Anyhoo, I survived intact, and more importantly, so did my cargo of tackiness. I'd spent Monday afternoon scouring Brighton's classier boutiques for a cheap gift to take to Crash n Donna's wedding party in March. The rules stipulate that it must be both tacky and under a fiver, which sounds simple enough, especially for someone like me who tends to buy tacky gifts without even trying. But it actually proved quite taxing. There's a very thin line between tacky and brilliant. So I was forced to reject the clockwork nun and the heart-shaped frying pan, on the grounds that they were actually too amusing to be tacky. I needed something deeply rubbish.

I'm still not convinced that what I've got plumbs the depths of pure tat to a sufficient extent, but it only cost £3 and is fairly bad. Trouble is, they'll probably love it.

As for yesterday, I visited Lewes and Hove, ate copious amounts of sugar-free sherbet lemons, gave large quantities of cash to charity (in return for dodgy items of clothing), stole leftover Christmas food from Lisa's mother, and then drove through the streets of Brighton one-handed with my seatbelt undone, whilst attempting to retrieve my mobile from my pocket to see who was texting me.

It turned out to be my mother telling me to drive carefully.