4 weeks until my holiday. The aim is to look like this:

I'm actually considering the hat regardless.

Despite my seething hatred of one Miss Sienna Miller, last night I doused the flames of loathing with large quantities of tea and sat back to watch Factory Girl. In which, much as it gives me acid indigestion to admit it, she was pretty good. Now I'm gonna have to find myself another fashion hooker to despise. Step forward, Lindsay Lohan.

Most of the women in Brighton want to be, or think they are, Edie Sedgwick. Walk into any bar and you will see at least six of them, huddled over a martini with a winsome, doll-eyed expression. I suppose I can understand that. She might have been an emotional catastrophe whom most feminists would probably like to give a jolly good talking to, but the woman knew how to dress.

Spent most of the weekend watching Crufts. There was very little else I felt like doing. No, really.

Plus, I'm a sucker for anything with a shiny nose, and that includes Ben Fogle.

My sister went to the Job Centre yesterday, to sign off. True, this was a fairly auspicious occasion, she's been claiming for a year. The government are understandably pleased that they no longer have to keep her in shoes and earrings.

We honest, decent, hard working, tax paying citizens should be up in arms about this! Where's our cash incentive for fighting a daily battle against the temptation to lurk under a duvet watching CBeebies and eating cereal from the packet with a teaspoon? Well?

Sajani was always something of an over-achiever. At 6 months, she was juggling knives. By her first birthday, she could operate a JCB. And then, aged two, she became a deity.

Susan Kinski nee Kennedy, nee Smith, has MS. This is surely the straw that broke the kangaroo's back? How much more can this poor woman be expected to put up with? Infidelity, divorce, amnesia, plane crash, I wouldn't be surprised if it were revealed she survived the Holocaust.

Give her a break. In fact, give her several. A nice relaxing story line, perhaps she finds an orphaned koala on her doorstep, or decides to learn the violin. Ramsay Street could not survive without this woman's steady hands and constant supply of casseroles during a crisis. And they're never short of a crisis are they?