What a week. I'm home on a Friday night, smelling lovely, facial, hair looking as though a comb has seen it and I've been blown out. True they may have got the wrong pub, but at least I chose one this time at the end of the road and am using the time wisely to write up the psychology essay, think up next book strategy and pitch some more ideas. Everything, as the hypnotherapist says Ailsa, is amazing and life is great.
Week has been odd. Peaches Geldof is dead. I didn't know her, and don't know anyone who did but was shocked in a quiet sort of way. The woman who wrote Adrian Mole is also dead and a few others died as well. Lots of deaths. There always are. More people will vote for Nigel than Nick allegedly. Pistorius cried a lot in court.
Finished the in-house magazine for five star luxury travellers for Sovereign Holidays. Loved editing it. Wonderful job. The Devil Wears Prada but the clients of Sovereign do not. The Prada PR (in my opinion) sucks.
I met up with my first boyfriend (ever) and the guy who lived above us in the flat we bought. (Bairstow Eves, horrid people 'in my opinion'). He gave me photos of how I looked in my early twenties. I was Diana Spencer but with brown hair. God, it was ageing the styles then. Forget wrinkly of Richmond, we all look so much better now than we did then.
We went to the Corinthia, then to a restaurant next to the Botanist and then to a nightclub in the basement next to the Botanist in Sloane Square. Always want to call that place the Bigamist.
Don't know what the name of the nightclub was. Absolute dump. Everyone was having fun third party with iPhones, telling people they were having fun but it wasn't fun. It was cramped, no one could dance, drinks were extortionate and the dancers were dressed like gimps. Masks the lot. And they didn't even dance very well. There were these girls dressed like a poor person's cat woman with sparklers that would come round every five minutes and singe anything that got in their way with a tray of multi coloured slushes which probably had a dab of vodka and some piss in them. And there was this guy - presume it was a guy- who wore these very large polystyrene heads. It was very very odd. I suppose interesting uncomfortable odd.
And there's supposed to be a big eclipse next week and the Daily Express says the end of the world. So I must get the essay done. And I'm seeing Tom before I go. And the heating and hot water are now on. And I've had a wonderful facial and am soooo looking forward to going to France and Lake Como over the next few months. And my editor likes what I've written about the Yukon. And I went to an event in Covent Garden in the pouring rain. And someone's coming to sort out the trees in the back garden. And lots more good stuff I'm not gonna share and have got to fit in..just in case.