By pure coincidence, I bumped into Andrew today. He didn't mention the singing bird. And I thought if he doesn't mention it, I'm not mentioning it. Of course, if he thinks that by pretending the chirming tit doesn't exist, he can avoid me giving it to him, he's sadly mistaken. We'll be inviting him and Stefan round to see our new flat in a week or two, and trust me, gifts will be changing hands. I'm certainly not keeping it.

It was my day for bumping into people unexpectedly. As I walked into work this morning, I met a chap who I last saw in March 2008 on my Trust induction course. We were both starting on the first rung of the NHS ladder, him as a healthcare assistant, me as a drug dealer. Two and a half years later, he's now training to be a nurse, and I'm an ophthalmologist. At least that's what I told him. It was quite a touching reunion though. We couldn't have started any lower in terms of band or salary, but in only a couple of years we've both moved on to bigger and better things. I'd have suggested we stay in touch, but the way the new government's going, we'll be seeing each other in the dole queue by Christmas.

As it happens, I wasn't in the best condition for meeting old acquaintances. When we moved on Friday, we left certain things at the old flat, on the grounds that it's likely to take my brother a few weeks to sell it, and the sight of my Homer Simpson poster above the toilet can only enhance its appeal to prospective buyers. Unfortunately, one of the things we decided to leave was our coat rack. Complete with coats.

So imagine my delight when I opened the curtains this morning to witness the kind of weather rarely seen outside Pakistan. With the wardrobe full of light shirts and beachwear, Lisa helpfully suggested that I walk to work with a binliner over my head. I told her that was a ridiculous idea. To which she replied "You could cut holes in it for your arms and legs". Obviously that made all the difference. It's just a shame the binliners are at the old flat too.