My brother also came down for the weekend. I say the weekend but I only saw him for the first time this afternoon, strolling in hungover. One of his friends informed me via Facebook earlier that the last he saw of him was him heading to a random party in Brixton last night, a message to which I replied with, 'Brixton. Where you have a 50% chance of getting mugged walking down any given street. Oh dear.' I am glad he's not lying in a gutter anyway.

Yesterday I had a day out in London myself with Tori and Natalie, something which I really, really enjoyed, even though they both declined my kind offer of having them stay over for the night. They've obviously read my previous entry and know I am a sexual deviant in my sleep. No one is safe, no one! But they have boyfriends to go home to so I'll keep telling myself that's the reason.

We went to inspect the new St Pancras International station (unimpressive) before going to a festivally foody market-type thing in Marylebone. They had loads of different edible things to try and, as well as various cakes, jams, breads and oils, I tried a so-called slimming chocolate bar which I reckon could only work because it is SO DEVOID OF FLAVOUR that it would put you off ever wanting to eat it in the first place. Tori was similarly unimpressed with chocolate's fake cousin, carob ('Is it made from carrots?') but it was all worth a look around anyway.

Next on the list was late lunch and drinks. We pretended to be in the sunnier climes of Spain and ate at La Tasca and then began gallavanting around various pubs and bars. These included the Marlborough Head, with the toilets which you have to walk THROUGH a bookcase to get into and we also had the joy of some men/wannabe pirates attempting to commandeer our taxi to Leicester Square.

(Arr.)

Last week at work we had one of our old trainers pay a visit to give us some speed tests. I became my usual nervous-wreck self under the pressure but despite this it's now official I can type at 160 words a minute. It's just a pity not many people talk that slowly, so I still spend most of my time in court feeling like a fraud. No one has noticed yet though, I hide it well.

We've also been invited to the ushers' Christmas party this year. Which means I will probably get wasted on free drink, my morals will go out the window and I'll end up snogging an usher or court clerk, or both. Ah, these halcyon days.

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