Feeling groovy

After a tough week, my perkiness levels were fully replenished last night with a spectacular meal at the impeccable L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon in Covent Garden, where I was lucky enough to be treated to the unforgettable tasting menu and accompanying wines by a young man. Now, obviously, I'm not particularly fussed whether he keeps in touch because I am extremely desirable and have many hundreds of eligible bachelors queuing to take me out for similar dining experiences. Plus I am perfectly happy on my own, yadda yadda. But completely off the record, I'd quite like to see him again. To redress the financial balance, I'd offered to buy us cocktails in the upstairs bar beforehand - I had one called a Peach Bison which I ordered partially because the name made me laugh, but apparently it's pronounced Bee-son, not Buy-son, which wasn't nearly so funny. Our drinks were served on black napkins and a red rose petal. Nice.

Today I woke up with a spring in my step and bounced off for a run down by the river where I managed to jog continuously for almost 45 minutes. This was momentous. Then I went into town and was worthy, and now I'm back home in bed feeling exhausted but extremely happy. Isn't it nice when you feel in need of a little pick-me-up and one comes along?

In a visual echo of this, I was on the bus earlier and spotted this jolly addition to a slightly dour message - somehow the young mother and elderly gent look slightly less disgruntled with huge smiles scratched onto their otherwise blank visages although their demonic eyes are a little threatening. I do love the ankle detail on the lady too - some sort of pixie boot perhaps? Or maybe an electronic tag from a recent stint in the clink. Shame that the toddler's smaller face was too tiny for detail - instead the child has been scarred/bisected for eternity, a helpless victim of modern graffiti. Having had two glasses of wine in the pub this evening, I was feeling a bit blurry and possibly weirded out the two other passengers by singing along to the Alto 2 part of Frank Martin's Mass a little louder than I should have done. Now I'm off to sleep - it may only be 10.40pm but I think I could sleep for several decades; there's lots to do tomorrow and a bumper episode of American Idol to watch so I need to be perfectly fresh for that. A bientot.