I really should try to get home from Brighton before 2am. It's playing havoc with my complexion. But as of the middle of last night, I'm back in Shotley Gate, minus Lisa, but plus my cat who I successfully burgled from my parents' house at 1am. I don't think they'll notice.

It's been an exciting few days on the south coast, the highlight of which was probably my discovery yesterday afternoon that according to Lisa's Mum's kitchen calendar, she has an appointment on Thursday with a Dr Humzinger. I'm sure she makes these things up. Although let's not forget, this is the woman who marked last year's Brighton Pride march on her calendar as "Gay Time", so she clearly has her finger on the pulse. As will Dr Humzinger around this time tomorrow. To be honest, I probably shouldn't be reading her calendar, but goddammit, it's just so darned entertaining.

As for Lisa's other family members, we visited her sister and brother-in-law on Sunday (unannounced, naturally - how else are we going to get the chance to see her sister in a face pack?), and demanded a cup of tea at short notice. I then watched Nephew Number One playing Pac-Man (which has changed a tad since I was a child), before lulling the all-new Nephew Number Three into a catatonic state, in an attempt to stop him throwing up all over me. After that, there was just time to meet Super Giraffe, before it was back to Lisa's for Italian Beef Casserole.

On Monday I was forced out onto the streets to look for suitable gifts for my brother and sister-in law, who've both had birthdays in the past week, either side of the Queen's. Which makes three presents I've had to buy. Thank god the Queen Mother's dead.

Anyhoo, my sister-in-law used to be a teacher, so I got her a blackboard, while my brother will shortly be receiving the item on the left. It's a small plastic figurine of St Joseph, the patron saint of real estate. I see it as an insurance policy on my new flat. When I decide I don't like it, and move out after three months, leaving my brother in the lurch, all he has to do is bury St Joseph upside down by the 'for sale' sign, say a prayer asking all potential buyers to waive inspection, and he's guaranteed to get the asking price. So frankly it's worth a lot more than the fiver I paid for it. I'm sure he'll thank me later.