I opened a box of Acetic Acid at work today, to find that three of the bottles were broken. I thought the delivery driver looked a bit spaced out when he arrived, but I had no idea he'd dropped some acid that morning. Anyway, never mind opening a box, by the time I'd finished it smelt like I'd opened a fish & chip shop. But whilst trying not to let my fingers dissolve, and fighting off the urge to eat pickled onions, I have to say I found the whole experience quite romantic. With the amount of crisps Lisa gets through, there's always a whiff of salt & vinegar in the air, so one lungful of fumes and I felt like I was at home with my beloved.

And talking of my beloved, I spoke to Chloe on the phone today, direct from her Essex holiday home. From the way she miaowed, I'd say she's probably very happy. Or possibly my Mum had just trodden on her tail. Either way, she's still alive, which has to be good news.

But not as good as this news from yesterday's Argus...


That's the last time I criticise Lisa's scrambled eggs.