It's that dreaded season again -- holiday party time. I think I pickled my liver last week what with all of the clients parties, drinks with friends and our agency party (debauched, even if it was at the very chic Kingly Club. I woke up on Friday sitting in a chair, completely dressed, with a feather boa and a plate of food I hadn't touched. Classy.
Had drinks with Tim last night. We love Tim. He'd spent the day in cabs delivering old master paintings to clients. l He becomes so animated talking about dance that his legs swing and kick and move about with excitement. We drank wine in the Rockwell bar in Trafalgar Square then set off into the bitterly cold night air. It was meant to get down to -6 celsius last night. Time for gloves and scarves and heavy coats -- but I do love this time of year in London.
Off Sunday to San Francisco to horrify my friends with how fat and old I've become -- it's a danger of being away for a year.
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