Lisa's Mum, who not only buys The Argus every day, but is occasionally in it, often passes her old copies onto us, partly for our journalistic enjoyment, but mainly to line our cat litter tray. Before passing them on, she has a habit of highlighting any relevant or interesting stories in each issue by scribbling notes on the front in biro, which I think is why they agreed to publish my articles - I told them my mother-in-law's writing often appears on the front page.

So I was emptying the litter tray last night, when I found this...

I've never turned the page so fast. Which is surprising, as I was simultaneously phoning a divorce lawyer with my other hand.

As it transpired, however, Lisa wasn't topless in the local paper. It was just an article of interest to her. But I'm hoping her coverage might increase (as I would be if she had been topless) when The Argus run their 'Local Woman Wins Massive Compensation Payout from Brighton Bus Company' story. Unfortunately, we're still waiting to hear on that score. Lisa e-mailed Brighton Buses with a letter of complaint on Sunday afternoon, and their website states that they aim to reply within three working days, but so far they're remaining tight-lipped. Which is probably just as well, as the last employee who spoke to Lisa said 'F**k it'.

A couple of people have suggested to us that Lisa hire a no-win-no-fee accident lawyer, but it appears that in order to claim, you have to be injured, and sadly (for our bank balance at least), the only things hurt were her pride and her feelings. And they're financially worthless. So I don't think it's a goer.

In the meantime, the family health situation continues to go downhill. Amelie's passed on her sore throat to me, so I've spent the day sucking lozenges and talking to patients with the gravelly tones of the bloke who does the film trailer voiceovers. As for the kittens, they're still in Amelie's tent behind the TV, but I'm considering moving them, as I feel their current location has serious quality of life issues. Not for the kittens, obviously, but for Lisa, who's missing them terribly and is liable to sink into prenatal depression if she can't coo over them at least six times a day.

So to be honest, none of us are feeling great at the moment. I spent another night glamping it up on the living room floor, which left Lisa with the dubious pleasure of sharing a bed with Amelie. And even at 3am with a sore throat, the girl doesn't shut up. So having been the victim of incessant chatting for most of the night, Lisa's feeling pretty rough too.

The good news, however, is that despite being ill in the middle of the night, Amelie can still spare a thought for her old man. She woke Lisa up in the small hours of this morning to say this:

"Mummy?"

"Yes?"

"I love Daddy, and I don't want him to be eaten by a monster".

Her and me both.