According to Friday night's Brighton Argus, "The Kemp Town community knows how to throw a good party, so this weekend should be a lot of fun". They were referring of course to this year's Kemp Town Carnival, but they could just as easily have been talking about my flat-warming celebrations, because as of 11:45am yesterday morning, I am officially a resident of Kemp Town, one of the hippest, trendiest, and most sought-after areas of Brighton, particularly amongst people who want to live near Lisa. Although naturally I haven't moved in yet. I have, however, turned on the tap in the kitchen, resulting in major flooding of the kitchen floor. I think the place needs a little work.

But anyhoo, Lisa and I successfully rendezvoused with my parents outside my new flat yesterday morning. My brother was a little late, thereby giving my Dad the chance to collar a passing resident and complain about the leaky pipe above my bedroom window. As it transpired, it wasn't actually his fault, but fortunately the man (or Barry as I like to call him, mainly because that's his name) turned out to be very nice. Although we'll see how long that lasts once I start playing my guitar late at night.

Once my brother arrived, we made our way through the street carnival, narrowly avoiding a Morris Dancing display, and past a live performance by Busted Sofa (quite appropriate given the state of my furniture), to the estate agents, who were joining in the fun by dressing as bananas for the day. They gave us the keys to my new flat, and we quickly returned there in triumph, to find we couldn't get them to work. As it turned out, the building features a state-of-the-art security feature whereby you can only get in the outside door by inserting the key, wiggling it a lot, pulling it in and out, swearing a bit, and praying. Placing access well beyond the wit of any thief.

Once in, we set about cluttering up the place with junk, getting the kitchen under an inch of water, and eating sandwiches, after which my brother decided he'd had enough and went home. From there the rest of us drove across town to B & Q, where I bought a stepladder I'm too scared to climb, a new lock for the front door, and half a bin. The top half to be exact. The bottom half I stole. Which is what happens when they sell bins in two halves, and you only let the checkout girl scan one.

Outside B & Q we encountered a 'shoe bank', where you can help the environment by depositing your old footwear once the odour eaters have worn off. The container was only the size of a postbox, but they've clearly had problems with local midgets being attracted by the smell of sweaty insoles, and climbing in. That's Brighton for you.

From there we went over the road to Carpet Right, where I browsed the giant rolls and ordered a Cream Cozy. Which might sound like a cake, but is actually a carpet. It's just as well too, because at £5.99 a square metre, I'd be throwing up quicker than you can say "Here's your £4.01 change". An evening visit to Asda, and I was soon equipped with toilet rolls and a washing up bowl, leaving the way clear for my Dad to start decorating in earnest tomorrow morning, while I get on with the most important job - stocking the fridge.