Happy New Year

We had a very happy one, albeit in Brighton instead of the westernmost point of Wales, where we had envisioned burrowing down in a rented 'colonial-style house' (aka bungalow), playing board games and guzzling ham with millions of children while the waves crashed below. In the event, a pre-Christmas trip to Madagascar (not by us, sadly) put an infected foot in our plans, so we trundled south to keep the foot company instead.

Brighton was a revelation, in green terms. I was last there before my conversion, and so didn't notice. I expect I just thought it was a little cool and laid back. Now, I saw green everywhere; in the organic cafes and vegetarian shoe shops, the organic markets on every corner and lack of plastic bags in any shops (or, if they were there, at a price). Most of all, in our hotel (Paskins, on Charlotte Street), which was whimsically run down, but nonetheless comfortable. The landlady winced when we asked to store our ducks in her fridge: I expect she thought they would contaminate her excellent vegan sausages. There was a sign in our bathroom explaining that the towels were usually washed with soap nut shells, sometimes 'as we agree with our guests that grey towels are unacceptable' with Ecovert (sic), and occasionally with conventional washing powder. I can only surmise that the last is a little more frequent than they admit, as I find Ecover pretty useless and can't quite believe in the cleaning powers of of nut shells.

Still, it is obviously cool to be thought to be green in Brighton, which feels a light year ahead of Devizes, or London. Wandering through the North Lanes, I couldn't believe there was anyone who wouldn't vote Green. Hail Caroline Lucas, our future - and first - GP MP. It must make a difference, surely. I can only imagine that we'll get very used to the sight of her face on Question Time. I hope she manages, somehow, to seduce John Humphreys before taking up residence round the Today Programme table.

In fantasy land, I'd love the chance to have regular interviews with Jeremy Paxman, even if he is, as I suspect, rather short in the leg department.

A friend of ours, another prospective GP MP with a similarly questionable educational background to Mark (ie embarrassingly over-privileged), envisages a time in the near future when the GP will hold a substantial block of parliamentary seats, and possibly the balance of power. I'm not sure what I feel about my husband being in a position of influence, finger near the red button, input into foreign policy. I suppose it's not all that different to having Davy C in the hot seat: why is it that it feels much easier to trust people we don't know?

Back to Brighton. Imo found ethical crackers in Tesco Express. Instead of useless plastic spinning tops or ring puzzles, we got little cards from Good Gifts thanking us on behalf of hospital patients from Malawi for soap (presumably not of the nut variety) and loo rolls, and for planting oak saplings in England. Terrific, and the kids didn't even seem to notice. Perhaps next year we can dispense with the cardboard and paper and just give them the fire crackers and a couple of bad jokes?

My New Year's resolutions are one day old and almost in tact (I tasted the kids' ham and pea pasta). No supermarkets, no clothes shopping, and no chocolate, booze or meat for a month. I wonder which will crumple first?