So I think I may be hungover again. There's something about book club that makes me suck up wine like a knackered camel at an oasis. I don't think I actually drank that much last night but certainly my contributions to our long-awaited conversation about Alistair Campbell's gripping Blair diaries were less meaningful and succinct than I had anticipated. Shame.
I was also distracted by Charlotte's blissful 15 month old daughter, Emily, who had a cold which was brilliant as it meant she couldn't sleep and was allowed to come back downstairs after dinner to entertain us all (and distract us from Alistair). She sat on Charlotte's lap, facing out and staring at us with mesmerising eyes the size of tennis balls, and we played her new favourite game, Hey Pesto, which involved putting her toy rabbit in an empty cardboard brownie box, methodically shutting the lid, then opening the lid and taking out the rabbit. We did this perhaps thirty five times and then we played pass the spoon. Don't ask.
I am panicking because I think the Republicans are going to win the election in the States, thanks to Sarah 'Vlad the Im' Palin. Obama's not helping by calling her a pig though.
And now it's Thursday. This week has flown by in a flurry of social engagements and vanity. After a tricky day yesterday, I tried to alter my hair this morning by blow drying it while hanging my head upside down - I thought this might add some kookiness and 'lift' but instead it looks like I've rubbed it all over with gorse. I may have to start wearing more hats until it grows. Or perhaps I should settle this once and for all and go for a skinhead. Thoughts welcome...
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