Is it possible to get homesick for London after spending all day on white sand beaches with my sister and her friends, tanned to within an inch of my life and sitting now, dripping with aloe vera, my tummy full of pan fried capsicum and melted cheese on toast?
Well, yes it is - I meant that to be a rhetorical question, but yes - and before you start penning me angry emails from “the northern and currently less Summery” hemisphere let me explain why.
I am invited to Belle’s book launch. I received an email from her publisher type people a few weeks ago and it has been burning a hole in my inbox. Not only is there no-one here to really appreciate the news (I’ve tried explaining the Belle phenomenon but it only results in polite questions, ending in a silence, before one of them mutters ‘Geek’ under their breath) but fans are going to be disappointed that not only is Belle unable to make her own launch, but Drew can’t be there either.
Or maybe I am Belle
... and I quote:
Stanley Pain: Where do you plan to retire to?
Belle: Somewhere with fewer newspapers, at least until summer.
Somewhere that rhymes with Blue Zealand
? Think about it. It could be me. It could. Don’t go. Please! OK, it’s not me. I was just kidding. You’re right, that shtick has been milked to death. Dead horses whipped. Won’t mention it again. Well, it looks like my secret identity will survive another day. Sorry! Come back!
In other news a guy at the pool said I was a beautiful swimmer, commenting on my butterfly. I don’t even think he was fruity. Maybe that Metrosexual bug everyone was talking about in ‘99 has finally made it’s way down here.