Further oddness today when Lisa arrived at the flat. Lisa is a biochemist and hockey player, although not necessarily in that order. After checking the rooms for signs of dirt, she moved straight on to the kitchen, whereupon she began to clean the top of the cupboards. These had escaped our attempts at cleaning earlier since they were 'out of sight, out of mind'. This seemed a good enough reason to leave them well alone. She was unable to offer adequate explanation for her behaviour. Various excuses, such as 'It'll stop me for getting an asthma attack when I visit you' (the dirt is ingrained, and she was breathing perfectly well when she was attacking it with Jif) or 'You might want to put things there' (such as bottles, tins and other items impervious to dirt). I personally put it down to general mad-birdness.   She also claims to have lost a stone. I don't know what sort of stone, or whether it had sentimental value. It all seems very careless. It could be an insurance scam. I shall remain alert - the insurance company might give me a reward. I think she is beginning to suspect something. I am writing this whilst locked in my room for fear of physical violence. She will probably go soon. I hope so - I have only a few breadcrumbs to eat, and I could really do with going to the toilet.   Before the arrival of this one-woman campaign against dirt, I was on a quest for an onion. The onion, or lack of it, means that I cannot attempt to salvage some lost pride in the cookery stakes. I was going to attempt the curry a second time. We may have to eat soup.   In the meantime, Mark and Chris have started up a new pastime - staging towel flicking contests. Mark is more adept at the towel flicking than Chris, although he claims he did not go to a public school. Chris can get the tea towel wrapped reasonable well, but lacks Mark's finesse in flicking the towel so as to cause pain to his opponent. The whole concept is bizarre in the extreme.   I think the time has come to leave my room and face the consequences. This could be the end of the diary.
			The characters and situations in this diary are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings. Any resemblance to such things is coincidental, or just for humourous effect. All names have been chosen to implicate the innocent.