23.46.
Today I was shelved because of the budget SO
I attended a yoga class. Five of us in a little house in Clapham. The sun shone and I stood with my eyes closed for a lot longer than I thought possible.
Jim and I walked the Northcott road and met an ex agent who nows sells cookware.We bought a coffee machine, a tray, two paids of socks a tub of cocoa butter and a box of Lilly of the Valley soaps. Scientist have just announced that sperm smells of LotV – thanks for that nugget Jim!
When we got home I sat on the balcony looking at two skyscrapers of books that have to be read as soon as possible so that I can tell my editor whether or not to invite the authors onto the show.
After two pears and a drink Jim drove me to my acupuncturist. She worked on my gallbaldder and talked to me about ‘ White Coat Syndrome’ the fear of doctors which makes your blood pressure go up, your confidence go down and your pharmacist very happy.
Jim then drove off to work and I took the Northern line to Leicester Square where I had agreed to meet Bee for a quick one.
I got so engrossed in THE LONDON PAPER that I read my way through Kennington. Aghast I jump-ed off at the Elephant and Castle, crossed to the Bakerloo line – which was all but dead – so I left the underground and walked – smartish -down to Waterloo where I grabbed a taxi.
By the time I had reached Neils Yard it was too late to meet Bee and too early to have my astrological sitting from a geezer I knew 24 years ago. He was one of my birthday presents. Very good but all a bit over my head just like the sun in Aries…
Walked to the bus stop no Number 19, so I jumped on a 22 and got off at Beaufort Street. Walked pretty smartish to the flat, took the lamb out of the freezer, made a salad whilst the lamb danced round and round on the de-frost setting in the microwave. When the actor arrived home it was perfectly cooked.
I ate my salad in front of Newsnight; arn’t politicans the most untrustworthy bunch of pratts?
It’s now 00.06 and I need to put my yoga’d temple to bed and start on one of those books.
Picault? Haran? Keyes?
It’s irrelevent which I choose as I’ll be asleep by the time I reach chap….. zzzzzzzzzzzzzz