I'm not happy. After an entire week of eating next to nothing, due to having been fingering the knob of death's door since last weekend, I finally weighed myself this morning, only to find that my 7-day enforced crash diet has resulted in a staggering weight loss of...

... no pounds whatsoever. There's something wrong somewhere. It even took me the entire evening to eat a slice of treacle tart given to me by Lisa's Mum on Saturday night, so I'm clearly not well, and deserve to be wasting away. Especially as Lisa hasn't bothered getting me any grapes.

But anyhoo, despite my crumbling state of health, I did manage to drive down to Brighton on Friday afternoon under the influence of a couple of high-strength pain killers, meaning I was able to fulfill an engagement over at Lorraine's, who had offered to cook us dinner in return for feeding her cats the week before last. Lisa, who's not only eaten Lorraine's food before, but has also learnt from her mistakes, took her own ready meal, and refused to touch anything Lorraine had cooked. A decision which seemed wise when Lorraine informed us that she loves the smell of cat food, and only has to open a tin to get her mouth watering... before serving up a suspiciously meaty concoction with rice. I checked the bin for empty Whiskas cans, then claimed ill health and refused the offer of seconds.

On Saturday Lisa and I returned to the Devil's Dyke, which apparently features spectacular views of the rolling Sussex countryside. I wouldn't actually know, as when we visited a fortnight ago, it was dark, hence our decision to return during daylight hours on Saturday. Unfortunately, having spent two hours there on Saturday afternoon, I'm still none the wiser, as the fog was so thick we couldn't see more than ten yards in front of our faces. Frankly Canary Wharf could have been next door and I wouldn't have known.

As for yesterday, well it began well when I trusted Lisa to tell me what the time was, only to find she hadn't put her clocks forward, and we were in fact late for our Mother's Day outing to Hove dog track. But a bit of rushing around later, and we managed to get Lisa's Mum there in time for the third race, and in time for me to win £24 on the fourth race. Unfortunately I then proceeded to lose £20 of it on the remaining ten races, meaning I have £4 left to buy my Mum a present. Which is ok, as all Mother's Day gifts will be half price today.

And besides, I'll be rich by the end of the day - we're heading back to the Devil's Dyke tonight for a quiz night. Our rag-tag team consists of Lisa (specialising in 80s music and the picture round), Lisa's Mum (specialising in Vera Lynn and anything pre 1950), Lisa's gay friend (specialising in snow-globes and Madonna), and me (specialising in answering all the questions). First prize is £100, and we've agreed to split it equally, regardless of who gets the most questions right, because in the words of Lisa, "I wouldn't want you going away with less than everyone else". The nerve of that woman.