I have returned from the inhospitable wilds of a Marriott in the North (who cares where? in a Marriott you may as well be on Mars) to my sandblasted obelisk (thanks LargeTrousers.) However, I am afeared to say that nowt has happened to me of real interest, apart from a job offer from a mate who works in the NHS ('come on, I've got money to burn') and the glad return of the rugby season. I have also had three young American ladies staying in my usually tranquil, two person, all-male flat. The sheer amount of stuff they have brought with them is astonishing. Every flat surface in the bathroom is covered in bottles of herbally-flavoured this and starwberry-scented-multivitamin that, lotions and potions, all promising a youthful glow and an eternally virginal unblemished complexion. So why 21 year olds are spending Belize's national debt on them is a mystery to me. My comment of the clothes-strewn room that they are occupying, viz. 'It looks like bloody New Orleans in here', did not go down well with the all-American audience it received.