Oh I am full of things to say! Thusly:

1. Jonathan Franzen came to London. Harper Collins published his new and hotly anticipated book. Whoopsadaisy, they published the wrong draft. The shame. Then, they had a party at the Serpentine Gallery. Someone came up to Franzen and nicked off with his glasses. There was a chase, and a helicopter, and a late night dip in the Serpentine. There was a’twittering about it.

TENUOUS CONNECTION ALERT:

Today, Sue, partner to the Secret Genius Project, tells me her husband came in very late last night. He was at the police station. Why, you ask? Because he had been chasing Jonathan Franzen’s glasses-thieves through Kensington Gardens. He was at the party, and he GAVE CHASE! Like a gentleman. Like a swiftly-footed glasses-saving CHAMPION of the near-sighted.  Thanks to him, we may still get another Franzen book. In about 10 years time. And Harper Collins, in a Guardian article on the very same subject, called him a hero. How excellent and slightly weird is that story?

2. I turned 33. I didn’t get a cake. It rained, I was cranky, I got a stomach bug on the birthday eve. There was a bit of vomiting. It was not in any way stylish, or enjoyable. I spent the day feeling a bit unloved, and ignored, and old, with a weak stomach and a pained expression.

Anyhoo, my lists of booty as follows:

*iPad (it is kind of mine, sort of.)

*Stella McCartney mental-person naked lace blouse. AS IF I WILL EVER WEAR IT. Cursed, wretched thing.

*Tom Ford lipstick in True Coral. That I bought for myself. The children wrapped it up, then cried when I wouldn’t let them play with it.

*Rose Prince’s Kitchenella, Justine Picardie’s Coco Chanel, Dietmar Blow’s Blow By Blow. It, er, pays to have friends at publishing houses.

*Artisan Du Chocolat pearly chocolate ball things. They lasted till the afternoon.

*A bracelet from BF Amber. Lovely. Endorsed by India Knight (She Whom I Have An Odd Crush On).

*A purple leather iPad case and a scarf to be worn in the manner of a nonchalant Parisian. I tried to do that today, but I just had a bit of neck-heat-rash. I think it may take some practicing.

*Dinner at Bar Boulud in Knightsbridge. I had a £20 burger stuffed with foie gras. Recession? Ha! Vulgar display of wanton spending? Yes! Yes! Yes! It was my birthday after all.

And that is it. A little slim, that list, if I do say so, but tasteful nonetheless.

3. I went to IKEA today. I drove, and I got a little bit lost. I was glad to return to the cosy environs of Bayswater. I avoided the meatballs, and the flat-pack ensembles. I spent £34. It was some kind of miracle. I have many, many IKEA Christmas cards that I am sure not to actually send out. But how marvellously prepared am I!

4. Both the children got into scrapes today. One got a bloodied lip, the other got punched in the eyeball. They are 5 and 4. I gave them a new pencil case in a sorry kind of clueless recompense. I probably should have given them timeout.

5. Timeout is meaningless in our house because the pesky kids have systematically broken all of the egg timers. So, timeout has become a kind of wafty, inconsistent threat which nobody can be terribly bothered to carry out. And the location changes. It can be the hallway toilet, or their bedroom, or a corner of the living room, or even on the couch. Often in front of the TV. Which means that timeout is just another word for TV time. Bloody hell, no wonder the kids sport confused looks on their faces.

6. I am horrified by what the X Factor stylists have done to the formerly normal hair of the finalists. That fellow Storm now has pink hair, and that good-looking young lad who nearly got through last year now has hair the same as Linda McCartney did when she was in Wings. It is just MEAN.

And that is all.