Ahh, Pimms. That perfect summer drink that conjures up images of lazy, warm evenings, the soft drone of the bumble bee, the sound of tennis ball on racquet and the soft clinking of ice on glass. You can almost hear those sultry tones of that M&S Food Ad woman oozing with details of plump strawberries, tangy citrus and the freshest of England's mint...

Then you arrive at the PV.

The PV were running the PV Pimms Trail as a Pride Fundraiser.

We had forgotten PV Nicki's rather devious sense of humour. So instead of a relaxing summer stroll between pubs, we were treated to mad scrambles between Seven Dials (the council really ought to consider installing ski lifts), Kemp Town Proper (those Tuc-Tuc's look so comfy) and the Hove borders. In fact, I really do think that compasses, flasks and bivowacs should have been standard issue. Eight pubs in which to order a Pimms (with less and less lemonade - Pimm's appears to have extraordinary diuretic properties) to hurl down our throats.

And don't get me started on the competitive streaks that emerge at these things (I should have had an inkling when everyone was limbering and stretching at the start).

"It'll take you at least two hours", warned Nicki at the start. So having successfully negotiated hills and promenades, not to mention interrupting a staff meeting at The Candy Bar, we were quietly confident that we were doing fairly well.

The finish line dashed our hopes (my hope was one of those interesting foil blankets and a rub down by the paramedics). We were last but one, the last team having the rather valid excuse of visiting from London and not knowing Brighton and having a 'broken flip-flop, change to stilletoes' situation half-way through.

Suspiciously, when we arrived back, all four other teams (including Pride) were sitting, relaxed, without a bead of perspiration - leading us to believe that instead of the 10 mile round trip, they had perhaps just hidden round the corner for five minutes before returning to the pub.

The winning team completed the course in one-hour, fifteen minutes. Damn them... I'm not half as bitter as the Pimms was beginning to taste... honest!