05.31 FISH & CHIPS & SEA

Whit Monday. Dan and I decide to spend the Spring Bank Holiday cycling from London to Brighton. After a hearty fry-up, Dan plots out the route, and I take little interest in the directions, despite my overdeveloped hypothalamus (ask Phil at work, he's seen the MRI) and presumably superior navigation skills, err, generally speaking.

(Landmarks! I need landmarks like the Uniroyal Tire in Detroit...).

We're a good 15 km in and, referencing to the map, Dan points to his curly cranium. (That's it?!). Thankfully, he's jotted some notes, but when I take a closer look at the details it is only then that I realise his idea of a map includes vague details about which towns to hit and a few key junctions. Mine would have included every junction, fork, pothole and turn - and I might have thrown in the Uniroyal Tire for good measure.

His sense of adventure is to Indiana Jones as mine is to Frodo Baggins.

Inevitably, we take a few wrong turns -- but then a few right ones -- to find ourselves at the foot of Ditchling Beacon (which Dan ambitiously included in the itinerary, *harumph*) - with 100 km already weighing our legs. I managed it, trollying my lethargic legs up 1.2 km at an average of 9 km/h. Slow as frozen molasses. But I did it. (So did Dan, but his effortless climb, caboosing my effort, is probably not worth further mention...).

A few km coasting downhill, the sun setting, cows grazing lazily, alpacas in the distance, and splendid endless views of the undulating countryside and we're in Brighton. 5:15 and 115 km. We head to the waterfront, grab some salty, vinegary, greasy grub from the local chippy and park it (that is, gently sit our tender aching bums) on the pebbled beach (ouch!) by the sea.

I resolved to have fish & chips by the sea over 3 years ago, on a touristy whim, and this is my first. But worth the wait. Now I've finally gone and done it, and earned it well, and haven't enjoyed it alone.

05.30 HAND HORN

Jenny is a performer. I realised this one karaoke night in Nottingham, when she stole the show with her rendition of 'These boots are made for walking'.

She can also rattle out a classical tune on her living room piano and spends her working day on air entertaining South Yorkshire with her banter.

Her song and dance portfolio is expanding, with her ensuing fame using her body as an instrument. Sounds racy, but it was an innocent discovery in her youth. At the young age of 10, prompted by a season of summer camp idling, she discovered a talent that is soon to find her recording with the South Yorkshire Symphony Orchestra.

The Hand Horn.

Cupping her hands strategically, to seal any air holes, a gust of breath angled precisely between the thumbs reveals a gentle sounds that falls somewhere between a flageolet and a loon.

Piece of cake? Not so. A few attempts leave me breathless and dizzy and, despite finally achieving a toot, I'm still happy to remain a part of the audience (fan club!).

05.29 DEX

Dan hung up the headphones, in his words, around the time we met. He used to DJ regularly at a few local joints, but wanted his Friday nights back. Retirement ensued.

Perfect timing, more time for me.

He still does the odd gig for friends and special events, and tonight is a big one - not just because its a well-established Bank Holiday event hosted by his music guru housemate with a guest DJ known nation-wide. But also because its my first time in the audience.

His set is wicked good, and gets the dance floor going by the end of the hour. Embarassingly, I couldn't name a single track, err...plenty room for learning. But I got up for a boggie and observed Dan in his element - crowd pleasing, music hugry, energetic vibe.

05.28 LINE-UP

It's my first weekend with Dan in five weeks, as we've both been away. Never in the same place at the same time on a Saturday or Sunday - and rarely a Friday.

The line-up for the night: Drinks, Comedy, Food.

Discouraged by the Line-Up at a riverfront pub, we head instead to nearby Vinopolis where we begin the evening with a cocktail - it's early enough for me to enjoy a dirty martini without the risk of spillage on my dress.

We moseyed on to a nearby venue for the next Line-Up for the evening - three comedians, the first an Afro-Londoner with a momma's boy appeal, the second a grungy local with a few too many punch lines, and the headliner a more classic story teller, who stole the show. A good few hours of entertainment.

Entertained, but hungry, we foraged nearby for a bite to eat. The only option was a good one - a tapas bar in Borough. The final Line-Up for the night: rock-salt garlic prawns in a chili aolio, honey glazed hot cheese, pork belly with quince, ham and cheese croquettes (French done Spanish style - interesting), and anchovies with olive tapenade over greens. The conversation-stopping food brought the evening to a perfect close; we trollied home contented, a weekend night out together, at last...

05.27 KARAOKE

Our department hosted a Karaoke night. As part of the organizing department, I made it my responsibility to ensure everyone was having a good time, and therefore I was unable to, err, sing. Or attempt to, I should say.

I did get up and do the macarena at one point. But apparantly, this doesn't count as karaoke, unless you know the words (seriously, who actually sings along to that one??).

After a few rounds of bubbly and some beer, the lads got up and had a go at 'Daydream Believer'. Not a bad rendition at all. The crowd was wild - howling.

05.26 WELCOME DRINKS

The Bank Holiday weekend kicks off early, very early, with Wednesday night drinks and a catch-up with the girls. Lauren moved to the city recently, from Bristol, where she had taken a job after our journo course.

Now resident in Clapham, we met at a local pub for a few glasses of wine and some belated gossip, and to welcome Lauren to the big smoke.

05.25 FUNKY?

Tuesday. My weekly art installation. This time, a deviation from the usual fruit and veg, for a very challenging still life of a pair of vintage shoes and a ladies hat.

It's my mother's birthday, and I painted this with her in mind. She worked at a shoe shop in London whens he was in her 20s and has a thing for footwear.

I took longer than usual to sketch this out, as my viewpoint had me positioned with a foreshortening of the shoe. As a result, my painting was rushed. Blending colours on the canvas, I experimented with layer over layer until I landed the shades and shadows I was after.

The result, according to Stephen, was 'Funky'.

He asked whether I was American (no...), and said, nevertheless, that I painted in the fasion of some famous West Coast American artists, known to push paint along the canvas for a very fluid, in-motion effect.

Funky. It could work. I just need to find a way to make a lemon funky, but not in the smelly sort of way, and I'll have mastered my own style.