Mmm... get well fruit.

Interestingly, since my Mum decided to give me the remains of her basket of fruit and send me home yesterday afternoon, she's been fine, whereas I've felt decidedly rough. It must be something to do with leaving the fresh air of Essex and returning to Brighton. Either that or my Mum's passed on a hospital superbug in a kiwi fruit.

While I've been away, the Brighton Comedy Festival has begun, but hey, that's nothing. I read in the Chelmsford Weekly News on Thursday that if you're in Great Baddow next month, you can see Winston the Singing Farmer. Yes, Winston the Singing Farmer. Brighton had Billy Connolly on Friday, but did he win 'Busker of the Year' at the 1991 Sheringham Carnival? No, he did not. Well he probably didn't. To be honest I wasn't there.

Anyhoo, on the medical front, my Mum went to see a nurse on Friday afternoon, taking with her a letter from the hospital informing her doctor that she'd had both legs operated on. She hadn't. Mind you, the surgeon on Wednesday was apparently convinced he was doing the left leg, when in fact it was the right, so my Mum should probably just be grateful she's still got legs, and didn't have them both chopped off in some kind of administrative error.

Having received some TLC from the nurse, which resulted in her having to take some post-operative painkillers for the first time, my Mum was then in a fit state to join me on a trip to Halfords for some blue paint to cover the go-faster stripes I managed to scrape into the side of my car when I got up close and personal with a pillar in a multi-storey car park a couple of months ago. It wasn't my fault. The pillar moved.

Obviously I couldn't get quite the right shade of blue, so having left my Dad to do all the work while I settled down to watch QI, I awoke on Saturday morning to find that my car now looks like it's had a sky blue snake painted down the side by a first-time graffiti artist. But still, it distracts people from the fact that I'm driving a Skoda, so it's probably a good thing.