So how's life? I am completely devoid of one at the minute. Let's take my yesterday as the perfect example.

Get up, crawl out of bed hungover from publishing dinner with this really amazing American author, throw on whatever is sitting on my chair. (Let it be noted here, it may be wining, dining and general glitz, but it is also hard fucking work chatting and niceness and cajoling the right people and not letting the conversation die. Socialite behaviour is a cultivated skill of gross professionalism.)

Go to morning meeting tiptoeing around an arts partnership that while incredibly promising for the profile has no discernable pricetag attached and I can't get Judy Blume to come for free.

Spend the rest of the day color coding my London visit. The city map behind my desk is covered with post it arrows like a battle plan. The spreadsheet of meetings is color coded by availability and area. Spend a large chunk of time researching appropriately trendy and relaxed cafes in which to set up meetings where they won't mind me sitting with endless cups of tea as a revolving door of publicists joins me for up to 5 hours at a stretch.

Leave work late, do the grocery shopping.

Schlep home and begin unpacking the boxroom, hanging pictures, folding laundry until I realise it's 7:15 and I haven't started the risotto.

Mushroom and wine risotto is fucking excellent (espcially with ceasar salad and crusty bread), but it takes almost an hour and a half to get the rice sufficiently creamy. My self-inflicted domesticity is becoming draining.

Spend an hour standing at the stove, book in one hand, ladle in the other.

Liam comes home, we have dinner, it's 9:30 somehow.

He runs me a lavender bath, then goes to do the dishes while I relax in the steamy foam.

And then i am so tuckered out from the warm fuzzy goodness in my muscles, we get only halfway through the 'what are we doing for christmas' coversation before I conk out.


Okay, maybe I exaggerate. Proper night out, productive day planning first class business trip, culinary delights and a cuddly bath and bedtime.

Life could be much worse, but it could do with a little more excitment at the minute. I want a carpe diem of running through leaves and new riding boots and a train journey to the shore. Not another trip to fucking IKEA and anything remotely resembling microsoft excel.

I cannot wait until thanksgiving. I so need to get a car while I'm in america and escape for awhile.