Can I just say that it's quite hard to write a blog post when Lisa's incinerating waffles in your toaster and setting off the fire alarm. It's easy to lose your concentration when you're forced to break off in mid-sentence to go and stand on a stool and flap a copy of the News of the World at a smoke detector. But still, the atmosphere's quite invigorating now I'm typing this next to a wide-open window.

Anyhoo, the smell of waffle ash in the air is quite appropriate as we've just returned form Hove Greyhound Track where I bet large amounts of money on the canine superstar which is Lookoutforlisa. If only I'd heeded that advice when she started heading for the toaster. As it happens though I did keep a Lookoutforlisa at the winning post of Race 9, but unfortunately saw no sign of either her or any winnings.

I actually had a losing streak all the way up to the penultimate race when I dug myself out of a hole with an ambitious trio and won twenty quid, before winning a fiver on the last by betting on the dog Lisa had deserted at the last minute. It was all nothing in comparison to Lisa's mother however, who cemented her reputation as the jammiest pensioner alive by sticking two quid on a ridiculous forecast and scooping £53.30. It was chips all round after that (potato, not poker).

The undoubted highlight of the afternoon though was 'The Mothers Day Afghan Trophy' (sponsored by the Taliban) (probably) - a one-lap race for Afghan Hounds. You haven't lived until you've witnessed six hairy hounds lolloping around the track after a day-glo bunny. I haven't laughed so much in years. And I'm still not sure how they managed to stuff them into the starting traps - one of them was the size of a horse. Well, a Shetland Pony. In a wig. It was top quality entertainment anyway. Bring on the camel racing for Father's Day.

Oh, and one more thing...


Happy Mother's Day, Mum. xxx