THIS week sees the launch of Dayna Dives In... bringing you the experiences of 20-year-old Dayna Spear.

Hello to all the readers and welcome to my first ever article in The Argus.

I actually have written for The Argus before, a few years ago on a work experience placement when I was 16 years old, although I don’t suppose anyone would remember – I barely even remember what I ate for breakfast this morning.

I think one article was about an overgrown hedge in Hollingdean and the other was about some kids getting great exam results. But here, we’re getting down to business.

I am bringing you pieces from my internet diary Dayna Chats Brighton – a low-down of, well, my Brighton life, anything cool going on in the city, bars, boozers, food and more. Because, well, as a 20 (nearly 21, I might add) year old girl, my life highly revolves around food and booze, I won’t lie to you all.

Now that’s out the way, I thought a great method to kick off this new set-up would be to simply chat to you guys about what I got up to last weekend.

I went to my first-ever football match on Saturday, which I was really excited about. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a footie fan; apart from the World Cup, I’m not an avid watcher, although, like most sports, seeing it live in the flesh is ten times more exciting than it is from my living-room telly.

It wouldn’t be right that my first football match was anywhere other than my home town, so I headed to the Amex to watch Brighton play well, but disappointingly they lost. Never mind, there’s always next time.

Thinking I was a proper geezer with my pint of Heineken accompanied by nobody but males, I actually thoroughly enjoyed myself despite the underwhelming result against Burnley. Perhaps the following pints, Walkers crisps and G&Ts contributed a bit, too.

For me, the highlight was an extremely furious man next to us who, when every time something rather negative happened (which was a fair few times), he took it upon himself to scream profanities like it was nobody’s business, shrieking things like ‘YOU’RE A PROFESSIONAL FOOTBALLER, YOU GET PAID TO DO THIS!’ and obviously some more explicit wording that I don’t feel is appropriate for daytime reading. But, it was bloody hilarious nonetheless, and every time Burnley scored again I couldn’t help craning my neck round, eager to catch the next reaction.

Upon leaving, we realised the previous five beverages had induced a sort of hunger, usually only for me reserved for post-3am trips to Buddies on a Saturday night, but day-drinking does this sort of thing to you.

We caught the train to Brighton (much to my dad’s disgust, who was sandwiched precariously between the train door and a yelling Seagulls fan, clearly as gutted with the result as everyone else) and we headed to The Chilli Pickle for some grub.

If you haven’t been to this restaurant yet, I would highly recommend it – not only is the place absolutely gorgeous with its vibrant colours and quirky décor, but the staff are always so friendly and, most importantly, the food is to die for.

I chose the Punjabi aubergine curry and my dad opted for the mutton curry, and we both agreed it was seriously good, authentic Indian food.

Now, I like a bit of spice in my food – I’ve got a pretty high tolerance and can keep it together well even if I am struggling inside, but this took the biscuit.

For some reason, in my mildly intoxicated mind, my eyes diverted towards the bird’s eye chilli proudly sitting upon my dish, and I assumed it to be a green bean. Only God knows why on earth I would have believed there to be a singular green bean served atop my curry, but I did, so I took it upon myself to eat the entire thing… whole.

If you’ve ever tried a bird’s eye chilli, I guess you’re probably quivering right now at the thought. Soon after crunching down on this evil thing, I realised my fatal error but decided to plough through and accept the fate my foolish mistake would lead me to. Let’s just say the heat of this resembled that of Satan – my sinuses were aflame, my throat pretty much a fire hazard by this point. You can give me a round of applause though, because my dad didn’t even realise what was going on and I pulled it off well despite the slightly watering eyes and claret cheeks. I should get a medal, really.

So there we have my Saturday, people – all it needed to get an extra Brighton kick was a walk along the seafront and some doughnuts on the pier, but I’d just had my hair done and needed to savour it looking half-presentable for once, so I kept myself inside and safe from the horrific weather.

I hope you all have a splendid week – we’re now nearing my 21st birthday, so I’ll be preparing for that all week.

By “preparing”, I mean mentally coaching myself to keep it partially together in front of my whole family after a few proseccos in a bid not to shame my parents.

Speak to you all soon.

Love, Dayna

l Check out Dayna’s blog here: www.daynachats.com