I think the guys upstairs must have a flat-viewing today. They were up at the crack of dawn this morning hoovering the floor above my bedroom (which according to the estate agent's website is high quality wood laminate, and well worth the £178k asking price). When I say the crack of dawn, I actually mean about three hours after the crack of dawn, but it was still early enough to wake me up. I'll be glad when they get a decent offer on that place.

And on the subject of my guitar-phobic neighbours, I had no idea just how prophetic (or should that be pathetic?) I am. I've only just discovered that exactly one year ago today (give or take 24 hours), whilst describing my first encounter with one half of the ceiling-banging couple, I wrote this:

"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."

It's like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I should learn to keep my mouth shut.

But the good news is that I can happily kick to the kerb the occupants of flat 8, because I've got some new people to play with now. A young married couple have just moved in to flat 9 (which is upstairs, but sufficiently to the side to mean I'd be hard-pressed to annoy them without turning up the volume on my amp), and being a neighbourly kind of guy, I got chatting last night and ended up lending them my vacuum cleaner. It's the modern equivalent of a cup of sugar.

In return they answered my probing questions and promised to "have me upstairs for a cup of coffee", but only "when they're a bit more sorted". I was tempted to say "well you've just hoovered the place, I'll come up now", but I didn't want to appear pushy. I think I've done quite well though - only one year after moving to Brighton and I've made my first friend. I'm just disappointed they're not Polish.





Unfortunately, by the time I get to sip Kenco in their company, I could be hugely fat (well, hugely fatter). It's not easy maintaining a rigorous health and fitness regime when Lisa keeps hanging bras on my stepping machine.