Update

Little to report back on this week. Tony's sister is incommunicado, held captive by Duncan Blackhorn no doubt. So in a slow news week I present you with an update on the others in my orbit.

Ray - still drunk. Evicted from the bed and breakfast I paid for after just one night's stay. He slipped in the shower and brought the whole cubicle down with him. I was sorry to hear it but glad to hear he has started to maintain his personal hygiene. Will be in our office next week no doubt seeking hostel accommodation.

Mrs N - still sinister. The twisted sister of stitch is still seeing Tony and feeding my Ex a garden of lies. I hope she pricks her finger on one of her tall thorny tales.

My Ex - still bitter. Has taken to spreading scurrilous rumours concerning the finer details of our marriage. What she fails to add is her callous behaviour. She didn't speak to me for a week when I forgot to put the milk back in the fridge, just as I got comfy in bed she would turf me out onto the floor and she publicly shamed me three times in the supermarket with her loud wittering about my failure to convert pounds and ounces into their metric equivalent. All that and she would occasionally plant chilli seeds in my tuna sarnies for work. Cruel is not the word!

Louise (my daughter) - still lovely. Has taken a year out of her studies to work at a garden centre tea room. Her mother has been telling everyone it is because I am not paying enough maintenance and Louise cannot afford to study. Louise maintains she needs a break from college. She brought me some homemade tarts last week, delicious.

Pierre - still faking a French accent, I think. I am sure that he originally hails from Camber Sands but I cannot be sure. Where ever he is from he is heading back there next week. Despite for my initial dislike for the man I have grown to like him.

The team - still miserable. I presented them with a packet of Garibaldis last week to cheer them up, went down like a packet of pork scratchings at a vegan restaurant. Maybe I'll bring pork scratchings in next time. Or a cows tongue pie.

Dad - still travelling the UK. He's currently in Ansty Cowfold and heading back north next week. He's atill asking for his fedora hat, daren't tell him it's been raffled off.

White gathered skirt

Well as the temperature rises outside my lovelife has turned somewhat tepid. After scoring an away goal last week so to speak this evening has been a total washout in the love department. With the kids packed off to her mum's Tony's sister had invited me over for a takeaway Chinese meal and a DVD. Keen to impress I asked Pierre, fellow hospital radio jock for some advice. He suggested I swap my bright white holiday trainers for a more subtle loafer and gave me some French aftershave to splash on after bathing. Keen to tan my torso to match the colour of my hands I spent the afternoon led in the communal gardens around my flat slathered in factor 2 tanning oil. I fell asleep and awoke to next doors cat ferretting around in my tuna sarnies. After shooing the scrawny moggy away I felt a little woozy and went inside to lie down.

Two hours later and I woke to the sound of the doorbell. It was Tony with a six pack of lager rallying the troupes for a barbeque at Mrs N's (he is unaware of my liasons with his sister). His face dropped as I answered the door only half clothed, I am badly burnt with what can only be described as very unfortunate tan lines that depict my arms and hands resting on my ample stomach. Once he'd gone on his merry way I set about preparing myself for the evening ahead, the shower felt like razor blades raining down on my crisped flesh and Pierre's fancy scent stang like hell on my now highly sensitive skin. Though it must be said at seven o'clock this evening, sporting my new crisp white short sleeve shirt, loose linen trousers and new faux suede loafers I did resemble the slightly more rotund brother of Don Johnson. Had dad have been here I would have asked him to take a photo, so I took one myself on his old instamatic. (Incidentally dad is still in the land of the living, just currently holidaying in Piddinghoe.)

Then the phone rang, it was Tony's sister. It sounded like she was in an understair cupboard but she maintained she was in bed and came up with an incredulous story concerning her and her white gathered skirt. Apparently she was wearing said garment in the supermarket today and a lady stopped her in the dairy aisle to quietly inform her that there was a large patch of blood on the back of her skirt. Without a jumper to tie around her waste she left the supermarket pronto and has since been laid up in bed with crippling stomach pains and a box of Dairy Milk. (Although I lived with a woman for twenty odd years, have a daughter and work with a team of women I am still perplexed by periods). As she rang off my heart sank, I am sure I heard Duncan Blackhorn in the background offering to stoke up the barbeque. I can't believe she swapped a night of passion for burnt sausages and cheap bread rolls.

I made it through the wilderness

Well the wind has been nipping round my nether regions the past couple of days. So battened downed the hatches and curled up with a cup of hot milk and the computer. Never mind, still feeling light of heart after my evening with Tony, his sister and our old mucker Dunc. He rolled up about ten at night, sozzled on whiskey and resembling a red squid swathed in Hawaiin fabric. We spent the night chatting about Tony and Dunc's days on the mobile disco circuit and danced into the early hours to Hot Chocolate, Dr Hook, Rod Stewart and George Benson with a bit of Black Lace thrown in for good measure. Dunc left at 4am with Tony's sister. The following day she came round to pick up her electric blue court shoes (she'd kicked them off under the sofa, thankfully I managed to retrieve them from the festering mess of empty takeaway cartons and crisp packets before she came round to collect them). I made her a peppermint tea as she looked very hungover. I left her with her warm brew and just as I was buttering my supper of toasted teacakes I felt two excitable hands around my middle. I cannot contain myself, I want to shout it from the rooftops but for reasons of decency I cannot print what happened that night. Lets just say I have made it through the wilderness!