The good thing about blogging is that three years after you write something, people can still come along and call you a twat. Back in October 2005, before I'd even moved down to Brighton, I wrote a charming and delightful account of a visit that Lisa and I paid to Faigans, a little cafe in Hove. It was a memorable experience. Which is handy, as we must remember not to go back there.

Obviously that post was a bit of a slow burner, because six months later, Garry Castle (I think I've been there) turned up to heap praise upon Faigans, talk about their heating system, and state his view that it was unfair of me to criticise the waitress for not being able to speak the language the menu was written in. I'm sure he's a genuine customer, and not someone who works there. After all, he can write English. After a fashion.

Well a mere two-and-a-half-years after Garry's fine contribution, someone called Gordon (I wonder if he's gay?) entered 'Faigans Hove' into Google, arrived at my blog, and joined the debate in spectacular style. I don't know why he's so worked up about things I said over three years ago. Let's face it, if Darwin's theories are correct, most of the people who served us that day will have died out by now.

Fortunately I'm used to being abused. I was shouted at today by a porter at the Royal Sussex County Hospital, who accused me (wrongly, I might add) of moving his laundry trolleys so that I could park the pharmacy van. Frankly he needs to stop airing his dirty linen in public.

To be honest, the sick of Sussex were lucky to get any drugs at all today. Our two regular drivers were ill, meaning I had to step into the breach and do the pharmacy van runs. It was particularly tough, because it meant agreeing to leave our staff Christmas lunch ten minutes early. You've no idea how much willpower it takes to transport life-saving medicines across Brighton, instead of staying with the free sausage rolls. I'm still not convinced I made the right decision.

But on a different note, Amelie saw the health visitor today, and the good news is she's now 11lb 2oz. Which is roughly what I'd like to lose before Christmas. Lisa told her the one about the doctor and the cotton reel, and she responded by saying we should move to a different surgery. Apparently Amelie smiled the whole time she was being weighed, and has been generally cheerful today. So something's clearly gone wrong with the vaccination.