Amelie had a bad dream last night in which she was standing in a garden (not our garden, obviously - we can barely grow a sunflower on the balcony), surrounded by bees who were trying to sting her. No sooner had she escaped those, than a pack of wolves turned up and started wrecking all the flowers. So she's obviously progressing nicely. Two months ago, the worst she could dream up was a hungry guinea pig. Now she's right in there, taking her chances with the killer bees and razor-fanged wolves. Give it a few more weeks and she'll be dreaming about Freddy Krueger and Jimmy Savile.

To be honest, she's not the only one who had a nightmare in the early hours of this morning. My journey to work at Horsham Hospital was like an episode of World's Most Dangerous Roads. When I left home at 7:35am, the scene outside our flat resembled a black & white shot from The Wizard of Oz, but with more water than The Perfect Storm. Frankly I felt like Rainman. But with slightly better social skills.

It took me half an hour just to get out of Brighton, and having made it through localised flooding and weather-induced traffic jams, I drove up the A23, passed one minor accident, and then spotted a lake on the carriageway ahead. My brain was just processing the information that I ought to slow down, when the cars up ahead of me suddenly braked, and I rounded a slight bend to see that one of them had just aquaplaned across the road and ploughed into the central reservation.

Fortunately the driver appeared to be ok, and I managed to swerve around the resulting debris, but by the time I made it to Horsham, the journey had taken me an hour and twenty-five minutes, and there were no spaces left in the car park. Which would have annoyed me, if I didn't feel lucky to have got there alive.

The good news, however, is that today's journey may well be the last I ever have to take alone. The eBay auction of Amelie's LOVELY green dress ends tonight, so by this time tomorrow I should be able to afford a chauffeur. Despite our intention to list a wide range of vintage (ie. old and secondhand) clothes, it's currently still the only item we have for sale, but the way this baby's attracting bids, we're not going to need a second one.

As things stand right now, there are currently four buyers battling it out in a fierce bidding war for the right to own Amelie's cast-offs, and the price has already reached the giddy heights of £2.42. The way things are hotting up, we could top three quid before the end of the night. And what's more, we've had another e-mail from Germany, enquiring about postage. Those Bavarians can't get enough of this dress. Anyone would think it was a bargain. It's a good job we didn't chuck it in the bin.