It was all a bit impromptu - the best way - and I hurtled to Brighton on Friday evening after faffing around burning software onto CD for Richard then having a shower. In the end, I didn't get there until about 10pm which was ideal as it was going out time. Spoke with MarkD en route after trying my luck with Orange and getting Messenger to forward the message "Gorgeous lovely James called to arrange to sleep with you." It go there.

Wedge was stunned I called him. Hm.

We went to some bars then went bouncing at Crash. After loads of bouncing, we headed to Amsterdam where Richard got all loved up over his ex and I got progressively more stroppy as I could see we were going to be getting nowhere fast. I was so tired and every half hour I was told we'd be about five minutes. Eventually we did get back to the flat (which is lovely) and I ended up passing out on the bed before being woken up at 7am or so by someone (Ben) climbing into the bed with me. Gave him head (he was there) then went back to sleep - after being sick. Huge amounts of Red turn your sick orange. Very strange. And the contents of my stomach had separated into layers as well. First of all, liquidy stuff (clearly the remnants of the Red) followed - a few minutes later - by what I presume was (now orange) boy juice. I decided that from the consistency of it.

Most of yesterday was spent lying on the beach hearing people regailing each other with tales of walking through Richard's bedroom the previous night and seeing me, passed out on the bed, naked. The highlight, apparently, was writing "Park and ride" on my back in eyeliner with a huge arrow pointing at my arse. Classy bird, me. Ben was being leechy and "I your wife!" at me which was intensely irritating. I told him and it seemed to keep him away from me for a while. Apparently, I had been in an intense queenie-strop as the evening went on and was squealing around the bar "That's it! I've had enough! Is there a Hilton round here?" which must've endeered me to no end of people. Oh - that shame. (There were two; one was fully booked and the other would be delighted to let me wave my Silver HHonors card at them...)

I was quite hungover, but beach lying with Pimms soon put paid to that. Lots of cute boy watching and stuff. Very therapeutic. I lay watching passing bodies, filling Ben's shoes with pebbles - I'm so mature - and thinking how glorious a perfectly clear sky is. Lots more of that in ten weeks, I hope! There were lots of light aircraft in the sky over the coast all day... it must've been a wonderful day to fly.

Graham invited me round to see his new barbeque so we all piled round to his for amazing hospitality. His friend Paul was quite scrummy, actually. Once the food had been consumed, we all wandered inside to watch Eurovision. Had a very frantic call to Orange customer services along the lines of "Quick! Take off premium rate barring! I'm trying to vote for Sweden and there are only minutes to go..." which had the poor girl on the end of the phone laughing like a drain. I think she thought I might be gay.

We all ended up in Revenge after a quick dash home to change and I danced like a madman for most of the night. Ben tried to get me to loan him money but I declined as the warnings had been flying earlier that none of it would be seen again.

He'd been holding forth in Graham's how it was a nice flat, but he lived in a £210k house somewhere else which was nicer and that he was a millionnaire. By this time, everyone was really fucked off with him (don't millionnaires buy their own drinks?) so we just ignored him for the rest of the evening. And he was shit in bed as well, which was the final nail in the coffin. No redeeming qualities as far as I could see - although that didn't seem to bother me at 7am yesterday morning when he had his nob rammed down my esophagus. I didn't care anyway as I pulled a dancer called, um, something, who was dancing and incredibly fit. Snogged him a bit and got his phone number before heading back to Richard's to sleep. Bought some stuff for today's breakfast.

B2 doesn't take Amex! For fuck's sake - hardly anywhere does in Brighton. Very strange considering the UK (I think even European) headquarters are based there. You'd think everywhere would welcome "The Card." Pah!

I passed out on the bed again next to Richard - Ben had been told to fuck off - and woke up this morning without writing all over my legs. We were woken by Ben coming round to collect his bag (which we'd discovered the night before contained a few things which weren't Ben's - possibly explaining how I managed to lose my money clip between the shop and Richard's house 'last night') and then Sean emerging triumphantly from the kitchen with a cooked breakfast for all of us. The boy impressed me. Very nice.

We went to the beach again and drank lager and ogled. None of them seemed to know who Douglas Adams was. (Jon texted me in disbelief.)

I took Richard and Simon for lunch and realised I'd been paying for most stuff all weekend. That's not a problem as Richard fessed up to being skint before we started, but I think I got through about £300 in all. Ah well - you can't take it with you. I was fucked off about "losing" my money last night (there wasn't that much though as I'd just been out doing alco-munchies shopping) but more about losing the money clip Matthew gave me as a present. Annoying.

I slept through the early evening, then we all sat around and drank tea infront of porn. (Civilised). Richard fessed up to having been the Milky Bar Kid and was then surprised when I said I hadn't realised. I'd heard him talk about it in the past but he was, actually, the real Milky Bar Kid when he was ickle! There's got to be some bizarre detached thought crime in there somewhere. That said, anything milky of Richard's would be nice as he is very lovely. He was the one with the cowboy hat, apparently. Thought police! Thought police!

After discovering Mildred to be covered in stinky seagull poo, I ended up at the bushes. Entirely by accident, of course! Had a fantastic bit of whoring there for a while (one 19 year old with an incredibly big willy, a 20 year old bit of rough who was pilling off his tits and up for anything and a few other random fit blokes) then drove home in almost no time at all.

I had been concerned that I'd get a parking ticket over the weekend, as I parked in restricted parking all of Saturday. Thankfully, however, not. Mildred proved once again that she is immune to parking tickets.

Fabulous fun. I've been invited back again (although I'll leave the plastic at home) and will be making another trip very soon indeed. I drank too much, smoked too much (a few fields of tobacco), did rude things too much, letched too much, spent too much... Rah! I like my life. I might as well enjoy this bit of it whilst I can; I shall be poor and remote in France.