Way too much lycra

We got up at 3.45am on Sunday to get The Man to the London Triathlon for a 7am start time. All the comments from recent parents have been a knowing, ‘ah yes, good preparation for having babies’. Holy sweet jesus, enough with the baby comments people! The other day three people in three hours asked me what the baby plans are after the wedding. Well let me say here and now, currently there are no plans. Let’s just get the wedding over with first, I have enough to think about with that and work at the moment without considering pain and nausea and hemorrhoids (which I can't even spell).

The tri was great though, The Man did really well and was in the same group as Jensen Button so we managed to get lots of pics of both of them. Almost made up for getting up so ridiculously early on a Sunday! Anyone who wants to swim 1.5km in the London Docks though has my utmost incredulity respect. Seriously, why would you??

JB out of the water with a bag of soggy wetsuit

2hrs 46mins 14secs - well done my Man!

We went to see the vicar for the final time a few weeks ago for our last ‘pre-wedding counselling’. In this session he discussed managing finances, sharing the housework and (recurring theme) having babies. (And slightly unsettlingly coming from the vicar, not letting your partner pressure you into doing things in the bedroom you’d rather not.) I think these sessions, tangential as they often end up being, are a good thing for a couple getting married. Too often you get caught up in the madness of organising the day, what colour will the bridesmaids be wearing, what to have for the starter, how much the florist is charging you, but very rarely do people actually ask you how you feel about getting married, or do you actually think properly about what you are doing.

My friend Clare lent me a book called The Conscious Bride which has some interesting things to say, and some interesting quotes from other brides. One bride was saying that she organised her wedding in three months, but actually in the end wished she’s taken the usual year or so, just to allow herself time to get her head around the big change happening in her life.

I can’t speak for the chaps but presume this happens to some extent as well, but it’s a weird change of identity getting married. For girls, if they decide to change their surnames, it’s a huge deal. I can see myself in some of the descriptions in the book – initial excitement, then resistance and kick-back against my fiancé for the changes he’s inflicting on me, then a gradual come-around to accepting the different identity I’ll be taking on as a wife. I don’t know if this simile was due to corporate brainwashing, but I felt like a piechart being stabbed by a new piece of pie.

1. Me, whole and happy being me, finally (after 30-ahem years).
2. Man comes along and wants to be permanent part my life. Thin end of the wedge. Pointy and a little ouchy. Requiring rearranging of my nice complete pie.
3. Gradual acceptance of man in my life.
4. Full integration.

Now this makes it seem that having The Man in my life was a bit unwelcome, which is not at all the case, it’s always been fantastic being with him. The final pie is much shinier and bouncier. In fact, I’m sure if he thought about it he went through pretty much the same thing. The first part of the transition stage was a bit odd though; even though you're having lots of fun together it takes time to let that new piece of pie settle in. Now he’s a fantastic part of my pie. Life. You know what I mean. It just takes a little while for change to happen. I find the idea of spending the rest of my life with him hugely exciting. Do-a-little-dance-and-say-yay! exciting in fact. We shall see what the future brings but I know whatever happens we’ll both be there supporting each other and being proud of each other. You can put the bucket down now I've finished.

In other news, one of the dogs at home had a litter of five puppies. Here’s some when they’re just waking up and looking a bit grumpy. They are complete timewasters and brilliant fun and they grow so fast!

And a cardigan was knitted all the way up to the neck but then was frogged completely because it was too small. Amazing how many hours’ work can be destroyed with the aid of a wool-winder in five minutes flat. Sigh.

Norty

Yesterday I was in Islington for an afternoon of learning to jive. It was modern jive and apart from the basic step was very similar to salsa in all the spins we did. I thought it would be more jumpy up and down! Which dance am I thinking of peeps? Is it actually jitterbug? Or does modern jive get more jumpy as you learn more?

Aaaaanyway, a knitter can't go to Islington without going to Loop. It's much smaller than I thought, or than it seems in the magazine shoots. Cunning. More estate agents should learn that photographic skill. It was also stuffed with people on a Saturday lunch time, some tourists from up north, some students and a couple of young mums with enormous push chairs cluttering the place up. One was wanting to do her first ever knitting project and had chosen a baby cardi, and the other was going to help her, and was adament that she should do the thing in flat pieces and sew them up and not make life easy for herself and use circs to do it all in one piece. Sigh. How about starting with a scarf anyway?

It was yarn p0rn-erama though. I was quite restrained and only spent [cough]£75[cough].

Madelinetosh tosh sock in Jade. MTosh yarn keeps cropping up in some lovely projects online, so I'm looking forward to trying this out. Perhaps Loop will stock the DK soon.

Malabrigo sock in Rayon Vert. The greens are much more emeraldy in real life. Soft as Malabrigo always is.

Sea Silk in Pewter. I've always wanted to try this because it's got seacell in it, made from seaweed. I think this is destined to become a lacey scarf. It's gorgeous and silky and sheeny and I love the colours.

Colinette Jitterbug in Lichen. This looks like it should be sproingy like Koigu.

All of these yarns just could NOT stay in the shop and had to come home with me in a yes-you-are-a-big-spender-haha! fancypants cotton Loop shopping tote bag. You know when you get a free fancy bag they're going to have a huge smile on their faces when you leave the shop. Hey ho. Singlehandedly keeping industry alive...

There are some lovely shops between Angel tube station and Loop though. At the end of Cross Street is an amazing fishmonger, it had everything, including an enormous salmon. Seriously, this thing was about 4 ft long. There is a groovy flea/antique market in Camden Passage on Saturdays, and there are some big name boutiques and a lovely Art Nouveau antique jewellery shop. Also lots of little knicknackery shops which looked good to explore. Trouble is when you commute all week the last thing you want to do is go back up to London at weekends! So, I am recommending it to you guys - let me know how you get on.

Sparkly

Sorry for not posting for a while, but last week (on my birthday) this happened:

As you can imagine it's been rather hectic since then! The Man proposed beautifully, with dinner at The Ivy followed by a private pod on the London Eye, complete with champagne and chocolate truffles laid on, where he snuck the ring into my glass. I was completely surprised as I thought it was all for my birthday!

I am so clueless sometimes.

But extremely happy.

And slightly panicking about organising a wedding!

Abolish Money!

Took this at lunch time of the G20 'riots' at Bank. Also been following the fun on Twitter (what has the world come to when we turn to twitter for breaking news? Why can't the proper news sites keep up?) and these are some of the best comments (excuse the screwy formatting, blogger doesn't like it when I cut and paste):

1 person breaking stuff and 200 filming it. Idiots.

Stupid anarchists drinking Starbucks. Right.

*We* own the banks now. Stop smashing them up you idiots!

City workers hanging out of windows waving £10 notes at protesters. A few years ago it would have been fifties and bottles of Veuve.

This is the worst festival I’ve ever been to.

Someone just said it feels like glasto without the drugs.

They've reportedly been smashing windows at that RBS branch for an hour now. How many windows does it have?!

G20 protesters say 'Abolish Money!' Okay, let's start with them: turn all your cash in right now!

"Hippies. They're everywhere. They wanna save the earth, but all they do is smoke pot and smell bad" - Eric Cartman

Sshhh dont tell the G20 protesters but the banks have no money - so no point storming them ;)

Can someone tell the man smashing the RBS windows that he (presuming he is a taxpayer) will have to pay for that.

Trannies protest too

Latest placard: "Down with this sort of thing"

Illegal venue rules apply know your exit, watch your back and run as soon as someone up the front starts playing bongos

Shocked at the number of greengrocers' apostrophe's (sic) on the G20 protest banners. Follow the hobbyhorse for grammar crimes.

Can't believe all the fuss over G20. They didn't even win the X Factor and their Bohemian Rhapsody cover was terrible.

Police still in RBS when I left. disabled chap at 'Camp Climate' complaining about wheelchair access

Ask yourself Sarkosy: what would Chuck Norris do?

Lots of unwashed types at the g20 protest - Brighton town centre must be empty today.

OH MY GOD, A MAN HAS SPIILT HIS COFFEE AT THE G20 IN LONDON. IT'S ALL KICKING OFF NOW!!!! OMG!!!!!

14:37, Rage Against The Machine playing outside BofE

I'm protesting against the miserable state of G20 protesters: using my brain, working hard and wearing a Saville Row suit.

Do the protesters know that the additional police will cost the taxpayer? Could they even spell counterproductive?!

Embattled bankers are blasting out James Blunt and Dido through RBS building loudspeakers. Crowd disperse

The G20 protesters have the cutest angry clothes! Apparantly The Gap are basing next season on them.

If this was Paris would there be more burning cars and less standing around doing nothing by now

Just saw a couple of clowns wander past drinking strongbow. Literally and metaphorically.

Anyone else chuckling at all the anarchists with iPhones?"Fight the power, yeah? With your £50-a-month O2 contract."

A G20 protestor penned in with others slammed police "Some of us have to pick children up from school!" Planning's not her strong point eh?

Only things getting through police lines are portable loos. Lombard St, in case anyone needs to go

I keep missing all the constructive suggestions being put forth by protestors on how to remedy the economic downturn.....

Apparently seen in bank HQ window during G20 protest: "While you are here protesting, we are repossessing your homes"

Have the collapsitarians managed to overthrow capitalism at the G20 or are they pausing for tea time?

G20 Protests: All iconography and no ideology.

Which just goes to show that Twitter is used almost exclusively by bored office workers.

Lisa and I popped down at lunch time and saw about the only interesting thing to happen - the policeman that got hit over the head here being dragged back to the police vans, all bandaged up, and about thirty riot police plunging into the crowds amid much shouting. It sounded quite like someone had scored a goal. There were indeed eleventy hundred reporters and rubberneckers and not that many actual protesters. And no one is the wiser what they're protesting for. There were lots of hippy women with push chairs and papooses. Just the sort of thing to take your children to!

Anyway, why are these people causing a ruckus? If they really want to make a difference they should form their own party and their own policies, and run for office. If it works and people like the ideas they'd get voted in. Then they could sort it out themselves.

Blimmin soapdodging grufty hippies.

Major Achievement Day

(Apols, this should have been posted on Wednesday.)

It is amazing how a country like Britain, bearing in mind the latitude, can still be brought to a standstill by a little bit of snow. 6 million workers didn't go in on Monday, and quite a few didn't go in on Tuesday either. Ah well, who's complaining about a three day week?

We were down in Brighton on Sunday seeing this little one.

(How cute do they both look there??)

It was snowing, but not settling, but it's deceptive down on the coast, and by the time we got on the road inland it was getting pretty deep. We had to drop off The Man's cousin at his mum's before heading off home ourselves. We just about made it to his mum's, driving very carefully on ungritted roads, but once we left to get home to T Wells, half a mile from her house we couldn't even get up a hill (the wheels were just spinning and gripping nothing and we were drifting sideways towards a ditch, and you know how The Man feels about his motor...) so we had to backtrack and beg a bed for the night. Which turned out fine because the next morning we could do this!

There were absolutely no trains running, the entire south-eastern network was suspended, so Monday was a guilt free day. I could have limped in on Tuesday but the office closed at 12 so I would have been there for two hours, so I'm glad I cried off that one too. There is still snow and ice at home, and lots of snowmen in the park and children being dragged around on sledges by their poor longsuffering parents. The enforced stay at home meant that I got lots of knitting done (finished that blimmin babycables jumper on Sunday night!!) and also got to the hairdresser's but also meant unforts that our knitting group was cancelled last night (boo) and the Man's football has been cancelled a couple of times so he is grumpy and fidgety in the house and I have to warn him not to act like a two year old. Men, honestly.

Which reminds me, have you seen this? Too funny!

Man Chocolate

So anyway, back to work today. Nothing much happening here but the Major Life Goal that I have achieved today is signing up for a Life Coaching course. I've been fannying around about doing one for ages, trying to justify the expense, and one has come up with a good course but double discount offer as it's a newish starting up company, and I've negotiated even more of a discount (if you don't ask and all that) so I'm doing it. The rationale is that if I start now, I have some experience as and when I may be off work or working part time for whatever reason (babies) so I can earn myself some pocket money. I'm not envisioning this as a full time career (although if it takes off that would be ace), but I want to use my degree (psych) in some capacity as it's something I really enjoy. I will be needing some practise clients btw, if anyone wants to volunteer! (Not family or close friends though - god can you imagine?!)

So, due to the train taking fooooreeeeeeveeerrrr this morning, I am onto the cuff of Sock le Seconde, so hopefully will get that completed tonight on the way home. I am working out a pattern for felted egg cosies for easter, and might finish the one I started yesterday tonight, so then What Shall I Knit?? Here are the options:

1. Socktopus Club sock (which are pink bedsocks and not stoking my boiler to be totally honest)
2. Tank top in the green yarn I got in Sweden (home brew pattern which will take some work and swatching (gah, swatching))
3. Lace scarf in the Touchyarns laceweight (yum!) which I am scared to spoil (plus I haven't decided on a pattern yet)
4. New beret hat for mum. She has a brown one she knitted in the 60s or 70s which is very on trend but also getting a little tired, bless it. I think there are some really lovely ones out at the moment and she deserves something nice.
5. Pole shorts. I have an idea for these, which may require some planning but if it works might be quite amusing.

I need to decide because I need something to take to the States with me next week! Although as I can't knit on the plane I wonder how much will get done, so perhaps the socks would be the best option.

Speaking of not being able to knit on flights, How Will I Cope?? Are there any really good books out at the moment that will keep my wandering pressurised dehydrated mind amused for ten (count 'em, ten) hours? Or should I just take a sleeping pill and be done with it? Answers would be gratefully received!

Also, how many brackets can I use in one post? Just shows that eating only salad for lunch is not so good for constructing fluid and lucid sentences.

Something new

You know the Gershwin song Summertime? Ever heard a swing version of it played on bagpipes? It was a night of firsts at the Brickhouse last night - aerial burlesque acts acting out hanging themselves and vomiting up blood (let's hope it's in preparation for Hallowe'en) and some interesting canapes... But the best bit by far was the band Ta Mère, also here, who Lisa and I both (independently) concluded we wanted to play at our respective weddings. Just need to get our respective men to give us small sparkly items first though!!

What's more frustrating is that it seems they played at some Bohemia Festival just outside T Wells in August - I didn't even hear about it! Our local press is rubbish. Or rather, I never read any of it so perhaps it's good but you have to wade through too much local schools news, moans about shops closing and biddies on the warpath stuff so I lose interest. Hey ho. Sorry Clare!

Anyway, this band are also playing Volupté so that's a perfect extra excuse to go. I shall have to somehow convince the Man to dress up to the nines and come along with us - not always the easiest thing. We've been discussing going to a black tie dinner and dance for NYEve, but he is really unenthused. Why?? Don't all women love a man in black tie, and don't all men secretly pretend to be James Bond?

Anyway, the knitting is speeding up, I'm nearly at row 40. How painfully slow. I have a feeling there may be several hundred rows in the whole thing. Might be finished for next Xmas then!

Stash Enhancement

The leaves are wonderful in the Grove. I call the Man and with minimal complaining he puts some shoes on to come and kick through them with me.

Is it really only Monday? It feels like Thursday after a week of getting over some sort of virus. I'm shattered. Mum and I have been up at Ally Pally since Wednesday and got back late last night, following traffic jams on the M25. The hotel we were staying in was Fawlty Towers-esque, so sleep was low on the likely list. On the first night we were in the overspill room, which was thick with dust even on the bedside tables, and had very thin curtains with a floodlight outside. On the other nights we were in a room at the front of the house, and mum's bed was in the bay window about 5 yards away from the all-night bus route. Nice. We are quiet country folk and not used to all this noise and electric bulb-age!

Also four nights of eating out and four mornings of trying to find an alternative to full English breakfast makes for a rather bloated and unhealthy couple of people.

What was quite nice though was that the other people staying at the hotel all seemed to be at the show too, so we could swap notes over the breakfast table. It's nicer to network over a cup of tea than over a trade stand while you are steeling yourself before the public to come in and swamp you.

Here is a pic of our stand:


Here is a pic of the shopping I managed to do over four days:


Silk and fluff from Knitwitches, Scrumptious and something glitzy from Fyberspates (Noblin introduced me to Jenny who was very polite even though she was thoroughly harrassed), laceweight from Touchyarns, nothing from Socktopus (where I valiantly resisted and bought nothing because I've signed up to the Sock Club for next year, but I did meet Alice), Lorna's Laces and Koigu from Get Knitted, as well as a set of Options circs, two balls of black lurex to knit some hotpants for pole dancing (yes Puss, it might actually happen!) from Wear Downey, and a couple of books which have been raved about (rightly) online lately - Closely Knit and Inspired To Knit. I have to thank The Man for wading through my extensive Amazon wishlists over the phone to find these titles for me. He did ask at one point, 'God, are you 65??', based on some items on there. I have yet to discover which item prompted that comment but he will be made to explain himself!!

Mum even was convinced to start her own stash, with some Touchyarn, some Scrumptious from Fyberspates, and some gorgeous handspun mulberry silk from Di Gilpin. She always has to go one better!!

I am still thrashing my way through the Baby Cables jumper. I've got to row 16. This is ridiculously slow, but I think I'm gathering pace as I get back into doing cables. I hope I get past the cables soon and into some mindless circling, and that the DK knits up a bit quicker in st st rather than garter st! I'm also finding the little rubber hairbands I'm using as stitch markers from Claire's Accessories (who have the rudest surliest staff in the T Wells branch I have ever come across and I'm never going back in there again if I can help it) stop the knitting moving around the needle without some good encouragement, which is a bit of a pain. I'm looking forward to getting rid of them as I finish the cable and increasing section.

Friday Random Sheepiness

OK, so what would you normally do on a Friday lunchtime in the City? Lunch and drinks in a trendy wine bar? Work through and leave early? Or pop down to London Bridge and watch 400 Freemen of the City exercising their ancient rights to drive sheep across the Bridge?


Here are Hadlow College students making sure no sheep escaped down Cannon Street. Note they are Romney Sheep, an ancient Kentish breed, so kinda local. Not provided by us, but by a farming friend, and Dad was the vet on duty.


The sheep had their own guard! I presume that as this was organised by the Lord Mayor of the City of London he sent some heavies down. They were aiming to raise £40,000 for charity.

The Worshipful Company of - erm - Frameweavers? Or something. And Chairman of the Romney Sheep Breeders' Association.

Monks with digital cameras.

Armour on a sunny day - looked rather warm attire to me. Nice frilly lace collars and burlesque-style feathers though - rather incongruous with the long pointy stick.

Had to have a bloke in a bowler, with the Natwest Tower (sorry, Tower 42) in the background.

So, I have nothing further to add to that, other than is was very strange to see my father, loads of farmers normally hailed at the County Show, and sheep, on London Bridge where I am normally just one of thousands of worker ants migrating north in the morning and south in the evening, from and to the station. Here's to random amusements and ancient rights of the City of London.

Mice and Men

Cities are funny old places. If a mouse ran under the table if you were at the farm, you would have stern words with the cat about responsibilities and layaboutish tendencies, and spend some time evicting the mouse while mentally scripting a good story to tell everyone later. In a London restaurant, everyone goes, 'Oh look, a mouse!', pushes their handbags around with their foot a bit (I suppose to scare it away from jumping in) and gets on with their meal. Any thoughts about Health Inspectors are not (loudly) voiced.

Anyway, I was having dinner with an old uni friend, let's call her The Lawyer for the time being, otherwise I'd just have to call her CRAZY!!! because she was telling me, again, about her working hours which make my last week look like a walk in the park. I mean, I know lots of my friends work long hours, but she never eats at home, all her colleagues get takeaway dinner in the office every night, they usually work until 10 or 11pm with no lunch breaks, and several regularly work until 2am. To me, this kinda screams sweat shop and employment law and so on. One presumes there's something in the contract to say that they will work until they drop. You can keep it, frankly.

So, a deal has recently fallen through which is bad but it does also mean that work is quite quiet for her at the moment and she can escape at a reasonably time (read 7 or 8 ish) each night. After two weeks of this, she's finally realising that there is actually a Real Life out there, and you should indeed have a couple of hours in which to do things you want to do in the evenings. Like, meet up with friends for dinner, or go to tango classes (which we didn't quite manage, but hey, the intention was there). And you can see in her face that this is an amazing realisation for her! Huh?

I do get concerned about the slightly crazed and hunted look behind the eyes that some of my friends get in times of greater stress at work. I really don't think it's right that work should impact that much on your psyche. After all, the company doesn't really give a shit about you, you're just a grunt (at whatever level) who can be replaced if necessary. The company might shrug and go, 'it's a shame that Vladimir/Horatio/Bob has gone', turn around and get on with the next thing, while poor Vlad is instantly forgotten (until they can't find a file or spreadsheet that Vlad made about something, then his memory is cursed and secretaries are sworn at).

Perhaps I don't get it. I suppose the friends with the hunted look also are the friends with bloody-great and gorgeous houses, and the ones who can afford the sharp suits and gadgets and posh holidays (but, I'm guessing, struggle to get the time off agreed and then never turn their blackberries off). To be honest though, I'd rather live a little more humbly and have time to enjoy myself between the posh holidays.....

Smug-making incident of the week: seeing a fat-cat executive Audi being towed, and as the truck moved off the car alarm starts shrieking.

Ew! incident of the week: Woman on train, having spent the entire hour-long journey talking about her baby (how cute / how strong / teething / nappies / botty burps etc) to her poor un-fecund friend who is now bored to stone, then starts breastfeeding in a carriage full of commuters.

Happy of the week: Getting a text from Fenella saying she'd been up since 3am, then another that she was cross she'd not heard anything, then finally one saying she'd just had a call and that they have completed on the purchase of their new house. Hurrah!

Surprise Surprise!!

I love it when a plan comes together. *:) I really was nervous about it - on the train up to town to lay the treasure hunt trail I was getting serious butterflies, mainly revolving around whether I'd be able to charm someone to hold the first clue for me or whether I'd get a point blank No (which has been known). But, all went to schedule, and I have a very happy man as a result.

So, as you may have heard, for his birthday last weekend I gave The Man a locked money box with 'Surprise!' written on it, but no key. He spent several days doing his nut and threatening to withhold priviledges until I let him open the box, but hey, he's rubbish at resisting me. *:) I think he'd then got busy at work and sort of forgotten about it. Meantime, I'd called one of his work colleagues and got them to agree to be an accomplice, sent them the key and got them to book in some fake work for The Man on Saturday afternoon (he works weekends) to make sure that the time required was mine.

The Man (luckily) dropped a horrible clanger on Wednesday night when he said he had to be in work early on the Sunday as well - argh! Impossible! So another call was made to the Accomplice, and all was sorted. I owe a couple of people some bottles of wine....

So, anyway, back to the treasure hunt. I'll do it from The Man's point of view, so as not to spoil the surprise. At about 2.30 on the Saturday afternoon he was told by my Accomplice that his last client had cancelled. 'How do you know about my diary?' queries The Man. 'Oh, and I have this key for you', adds the Accomplice. It takes a couple of minutes for this to compute, during which time the Accomplice notes dryly that The Man can be bloody hard work sometimes. Finally the penny drops, and there is an excited opening of the box.

Inside they find a London streetmap, train tickets, a note to bring an overnight bag and half a postcard of The Ritz. The Accomplice tells The Man to s*d off home and get sorted out. I get a call at this point from The Man saying, 'Sooo, I have a key, and I'm at home.' 'Really?' I say innocently. 'How nice!', wandering towards the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy. 'Hmm', says The Man (who hates being kept in the dark). 'Right, I'm getting the train'.

An hour and a bit later and I've seen the Exhibition (the only thing that grabbed me was The Entymology of Love by Sue Whale, a box frame of different types of cut-out hearts pinned to look like butterflies, with labels underneath each group reading 'Margate, March 2005' or 'Mim's birthday, 1998') and had tea and a 'delicate' at Laduree (how tiny is that shop??? Argh! But the pastries are divine, so it was just about worth it.) when I get another phone call.
'I'm at the Ritz. Where are you?'
'In Boots getting some water.'
'Aren't I meeting you here?'
'Nope. You just need to get to the concierge desk and ask for your message.'
'Oh, right.'

Later still (as I was in M&S buying some cheap fizz):
'I've got the next clue.'
'Well done.'
'They chucked me out of the Ritz once because I've got jeans on.'
'What?!'
'It's against the dress code.'
'Oh dear! But you got the clue OK?'
'Yes, cloakroom ticket for the Royal Academy. The concierge made me give him the other half of the postcard.'
'Good for him! Well, I'll let you get on then.'

Which led him to a Fortnum's bag containing my shopping (tea) and the next clue...

And then a text:
'Which hotel?'
'It's written on the back of the room key!'
Honestly, sometimes men are not very bright.

And a knock at the door...

After a few excited whoops and The Man saying I was very naughty and very clever, we sat around for a bit swapping stories of the chase and drinking fizz, then went out to see Jersey Boys, which I can recommend for a great night out and source of several more forgotten singing-in-the-shower ditties, and then on to Chinatown for some late night crispy duck and shredded beef. Mmm.

So, a big thank you to everyone who helped me with this, and for keeping it a secret, and to The Accomplice for being a star and also one of The Man's team for covering the Sunday work, Fenella for 'inviting us for dinner' on Saturday to make sure he kept the evening free and the concierge at the Ritz for being a diamond and fully deserving the golden keys on his lapel. Good grief, you'd think it wouldn't need a whole cast to make something like this happen! Anyway, I think I am forgiven for making him wait for his birthday present. And of course I've upped the ante for my next birthday present too... *:)