Back at the end of March I bought a pack of strawberry plants which I described at the time as being half-dead. Well three weeks on, it turns out I was wrong. They're actually completely dead. Having watched them do precisely nothing since the start of the month, I dug them up yesterday looking for signs of life, only to find them slowly turning to compost in my windowbox. So I took an executive decision, and decided to break new ground by getting some plants which might actually stand a chance of making it through the night.

Fortunately I had most of the afternoon free, having worked tirelessly all morning on my latest article for The Kemptown Rag. I'd told the editor I'd have it done on Tuesday, but as it turned out, the cex worker I met on Sunday was right, and Battle Realms is surprisingly good, meaning I had to postpone any less important tasks until Wednesday.

Unfortunately, having kept my article down to a mere (ahem) 1200 words, I've now been told there may not be room in the next issue, and it might have to go into the May 11th edition. Honestly, I told them to hold the front page, but would they listen? (No, they wouldn't).

But in other literary (and I use the term loosely) news, I e-mailed the Ledgers script to Pennsbury High School on Tuesday and they're refusing to be put off, despite the fact they've now read it. They're surprisingly keen to make a drama out of a crisis, so it's full steam ahead for a spring performance. I might ask them to fly me over. I wouldn't mind a VIP trip to New York.

But anyhoo, with my article done, and the fruit shortage beginning to bite, I headed up the hill yesterday afternoon to Brighton Race Course. Next to which is a garden centre. Where I got confused by the choice of five different breeds (I'm sure that's the right word) of strawberry, and came away with two of them: one because it grows well in tubs, and the other because it promises "perpetual crops". It's the neverending strawberry.

Even more exciting than that, however, is that I bought Lisa a pet. She's never been allowed to take charge of a living thing before, despite pestering her Mum for a puppy throughout most of her childhood. She was promised a gerbil when she went into hospital at the age of twelve, but it never materialised. I don't think her Mum expected her to live. So it's about time she had something to care for, and with that in mind, I found the perfect gift...

It's a personalised magic bean! I always knew that somewhere out there was a bean with Lisa's name on it, and here it is. If they'd had five, I'd have swapped them for a cow, but they didn't, so I paid cash. Quite a lot of cash too. To be honest, I think I was ripped off. But it's the ideal gift - Lisa's always complaining that she hasn't got a bean, and now, thanks to me, she has.

So with much excitement, I presented it to her last night, whilst bouncing up and down on the sofa and exclaiming "You can grow your own bean!!!"

She examined the packaging, looked slightly underwhelmed, and replied "Will you grow it for me?"

No wonder she never got a gerbil.