It's Thursday morning and I'm still in Brighton. Due to people flocking here over the festive period, there's not going to be any room for me at the inn, and sadly Lisa doesn't have a stable (though her flat's quite close to the racecourse), so the result is that we won't be seeing each other over Christmas. So I'm staying an extra week now, in the hope that we'll be so sick of one another by Tuesday that we won't want to meet up again til the new year.

The extra time together has already paid off though, with me learning all sorts of new and important things about the love of my life. This morning, for example, I've discovered that she dunks Jacobs Cheddars in tea. Which is just wrong, wrong, wrong. Chocolate Hob-Nobs maybe, but cheesy biscuits, no. The woman needs help.

And talking of such people, Lorraine (self-proclaimed mother of feline delinquents Timmy & Oscar) came round on Tuesday evening for a chat about the state of her love life, and whilst here happened to reveal that she knows everything there is to know about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. You see, she may look like a blonde bimbo with a cat obsession, but she's actually a highly intelligent people-manager who's been on more courses than Lester Piggot. I was quite impressed.

But on the subject of intimidating blondes, I'm a bit concerned about the deeply caring and sympathetic article I cobbled together yesterday about the life of Brian Harvey. Despite my best intentions I seem to be turning into a less cuddly version of Nina Myskow with PMT, and may not have come across quite as sympathetically as I'd planned. Which is a bit of a problem as I have to admit to finding Brian Harvey slightly scary. Even in a wheelchair. So it's only a matter of time before I add East 17 fans and enraged popstars to my catalogue of hate-mail correspondents.

But anyhoo, this time last year Lisa and I went to see the Human League in Ipswich. It was the perfect build-up to Christmas, but we're a year older now, and this time around we want to do something a bit different. So we're going to see them in Brighton. At least I think we are. According to Mystic Meg in today's Sun, who appears to be losing the plot at an alarming rate, "Luck is building, and you are ready and able to agree to a role on a TV quiz show". Which is possibly just a polite way of saying I'm the weakest link. But if anyone offers to swap my Human League tickets for the stage version of Millionaire, I'll be straight in there.