Not going clubbing

It was 11:30pm on a Saturday night. People were out for the night, drinks in hand. Queues were long outside the various clubs and all around was a party atmosphere. I remembered how nights used to start at 11pm and how these days staying up past 11pm is a wild, crazy night indeed.

I was heading home from dinner in Croydon and had run into some tedious transport problems. As a result I was walking through Camden on a Saturday night. There was a collision between a double decker bus and a car, a traffic jam, police sirens, lots of drunks and me. 

Girls in towering heels, mini skirts and chubby bare legs staggered along the streets while I strode comfortably in a puffer coat, corduroy trousers, woolly hat and gloves and low heeled boots. Surprisingly no one asked me if I wanted a free pass or a two-for-one drink coupon!

I made it home at midnight and collapsed into bed exhausted. 

How things have changed!

Apple and Blackberry

Back in the days when life was simple, blackberry and apple was usually something one ate with crumble, or custard, or both. 

These days things are very different.

I’ve owned Apples for a long time. I have had several iPhones, an iPad, iPod, iMac, laptop, and desktop and consider myself reasonably tech-savvy. 

On Friday however, I was given a company Blackberry and suddenly I have a very small keyboard with little tiny keys, a whole new operating system and lots and lots of emails.

As I’m off to the Big Apple in the morning, the timing is perfect. I’ll be taking my Blackberry, my Apple, no crumble or custard and heading back to the US for a few days for lots and lots of meetings.

And hopefully some shopping…  

Nocturnal Nibbling

It was 2:37am, I know because I looked. 

I awoke to a strange sound. The sound of shiny, sharp little teeth nibbling on wood. I listened for a minute, yes, something was enjoying a little nocturnal nibbling and it sounded suspiciously like mousey mousey.

I turned on the light quickly. Nothing.

I looked under the bed. Nothing.

I turned off the light and tried to go back to sleep. Nothing.

I didn’t hear it again. I know because I spent most of the night listening for those shiny, sharp little teeth.


Dicing with death

It was my third morning of stepping into my new shiny black knee high wellies and stepping across the park.

I was feeling a little self conscious as no one else was wearing wellies and the roads were mostly dry. A few curious glances at my boots and I assured myself that people were just jealous.

In the park it was a different story. It was icy and treacherous despite sand having been sprinkled along the main thoroughfares.

A brave or possibly insane American woman wearing stiletto heeled boots staggered along next to me for a while, frankly I was amazed she was able to walk at all.

Perhaps I was too amazed or perhaps distracted as suddenly I skidded and lost my footing. Instantly my arms flung out madly in a desperate attempt not to fall. I skidded, I regained my balance, it was touch and go but I didn’t fall.

A muscle may have been used more than anticipated but otherwise all was well. A close call indeed.

Dicing with death in London!

Walking to Work

With snow on the ground and new wellies on my feet, I decided to walk to work.

Through Regents Park where the paths were thick with snow creaking underfoot, it was a very different Regents Park from when I was walking to work in the summer.

A few commuters tromped through the snow but otherwise it was quiet, the air was cold, the morning brisk and the view absolutely breathtaking.

It took me forty five minutes door to door. No germs, no stress, exercise and fresh air. 
I might be doing this more often!

Get your welllies on!

Sunday morning and with snow falling determinedly, I decided to trot down to Camden to buy a pair of wellies.

I’ve been wearing my trusty Prada wellies which aren’t wellies at all.They’ve been fabulous for the past seven years, from LA to Europe and many miles beyond. However with snow falling and icy conditions, they’re quite difficult to walk in as they don’t have any grip.

So I slid carefully down to Camden, tried on a pair of wellies, bought them and then, with wellies on, I tromped off along Regents Canal in the snow. 

It was quiet, white and magical. 

I turned up Gloucester Avenue, walked past The Engineer pub filled with happy families having Sunday lunch before tromping over to Primrose HIll.

Gloucester Ave

I’ve loved Primrose Hill through all the seasons and snow is no exception. Squeals of delight, laughter and a few tears as families, teenagers, old and young slid and sledged down the hill as the snow turned from white to brown.

Primrose Hill
Snow settling

It’s a lovely Sunday afternoon, the only thing missing is Letad.

Sofa Loafer

After living with my nemesis, the pink sofa for the past year, the time has finally come to think about real furniture. 

One day my belongings will actually arrive (they seem to have gone missing in action) but in the meantime, Letad and I saw a sofa we both really liked which would work equally well in London or in France, depending on the next phase of our life together.

And so, being snowbound in London making wedding invitations, setting up a wedding website and even hand-making place cards (what’s happened to me?) I impulsively bought a sofa.

It’s a bold move, I confess. 

There’s nowhere to put it in the very small flat in Chalk Farm and there’ll be even less room when the outdoor furniture arrives. I may have to ask if I can use the Croydon bomb shelter but more about that later.

In the meantime, it will take 14 weeks to be delivered so perhaps I have time to ask if the pink sofa can be removed… 

Au revoir Pink Sofa!


I had planned to go to France this weekend until everything seemed to get very stressful. Between deadlines, meetings and snow, it seemed everything was aligning to say that this wasn’t the weekend to go.

After a sleepless night worrying about how to resolve the situation and finally, reluctantly admitting that I couldn’t do it, it was too much stress, the risk of getting snowbound in France was too high and as much as I wanted to see Letad, for once, I had to be sensible.

And so I changed my flight, and it started snowing, and travel chaos ensued,

And then I got a text from EasyJet saying my flight had been cancelled. The irony. It would seem it definitely wasn’t the weekend to go to France. 

And because I’d already changed the flight, I don’t get a refund.

Snowbound in London.


I’m working very hard now and the hours are long. I’m first in and last out and it’s starting to take its toll. In order to maintain optimal health while exposed to germs on the tube, I’ve recently started taking fresh royal jelly. 

Royal jelly is the substance fed to bee larvae to create the super bee, the queen. 

I’m definitely a fan of royal jelly although it tastes a bit odd, has a strange mucous-like consistency and I keep thinking of it as bee snot. It’s astronomically expensive but is taken in small amounts so hopefully the tiny 20 gram jar will last me about a month.

Combined with a large green juice every morning, I’m hoping to become bionic, or as I now call it, beeonic. 

There’s a Roald Dahl short story called Royal Jelly… if I start getting yellow and fuzzy, I’ll definitely have to stop.


It’s a tricky one, people are inevitably going to be offended.

Letad and I are trying to keep things small and we have a budget which will help us do that. At the moment we’re sending Save the Date emails to our list in order to get an idea of how many people can come as there’s distance involved for almost everyone. A refusal means we can invite someone else.

It’s a delicate balance of etiquette and wedding politics!