It's been a busy week, but if there's one thing I've learnt, it's that my cat's too small to give blood. If there are two things I've learnt, it's that my cat's too small to give blood and I paid my vet far too much for that information. I only popped in for some more tablets for her lifelong bowel condition (which is not as unpleasant as it sounds), whereupon my new vet told me they'd lost the medical notes from my old vet, ran his fingers through her hair (which has grown back with a vengeance since June), put her on the scales, told me the tablets cost £3.16, then charged me over twenty-seven quid. Which is nice work if you can get it. Obviously the vets in Suffolk, who charge less than eight pounds for the same service, are underselling themselves.

And talking of eight pounds, my cat apparently weighs 3.6kg. Which is a shame, because they had a notice in the waiting room appealing for feline blood donors to help save the lives of their fellow cats, but they insist you're over 4kg. And not made entirely of fur.

In other news, I'm still waiting for word from the pumpkin people on my glorious victory, so I'm beginning to think 58kg wasn't the right answer. But to cheer myself up, I took Lisa down the marina on Friday and beat her at ten-pin bowling. I also won 9-0 at air hockey, but to be honest she scored more of those goals than I did.

Anyhoo, I'm off down to Madeira Drive now. I discovered a door under the pier the other day which featured this sign. Unfortunately the door's now permanently closed until the spring, so I've missed my chance of a crap day out, but today it's the London to Brighton Veteran Car Run. The finish line is five minutes walk from my flat, and I've spent the past three days watching them build the hospitality tent, so it's important I get down there and let off a few fireworks. If I can't get onto Flickr today, I never will.