As luck (and the rota) would have it, I was doing a clinic in Lewes yesterday, and halfway through the morning I opened up a patient's records on my computer to check who his GP was, and was faced with an oh-so-familiar name. I had to physically restrain myself from shouting "Oooh! I've got your doctor's sofa!". It's a small world.

Unfortunately it's not a small sofa. And life isn't always suite. I was at Horsham Hospital this afternoon when I received a distress signal from Brighton. I wasn't back from West Sussex until late, but I went straight up to the new flat after work to assess the situation. On the plus side, we can get both the sofas and the armchair into the flat. On the downside, we can't get them into any of the rooms.

So either we spend the rest of our lives watching TV in the hall, or I borrow my Dad's power tools and start sawing. Honestly, I could weep.

But let's face it, things could be worse...


That's why Lisa doesn't want Amelie picking up Chloe.