Bonne Fête Nationale!

In honour of Bastille Day we are flying the drapeau tricolore on the mast outside the house which should froth up the neighbors nicely.

Although, given that we are tortured daily by the repetitive electronic tones of the ice cream truck, I think we should have retaliated by blasting the Marseillaise out the windows on an hourly basis.

I’m still waiting for the fireman action in the garden. The contractors have been here since 7am scooping green goo and turtles out of the swimming pool just beneath my bedroom window which has been mildly exciting, but I’m putting my money on the fire truck providing more interest.

After I’ve calmed down, I’m off to Manhattan for a couple of days. It would seem that I am unable to cope for more than a week without a blast of exhaust fumes and ready access to cupcakes. It’s only an hour on the train from here so I could just go in for meetings but where’s the fun in that?

Mainly I plan to write on the the roofdeck at Soho House in between meetings. This evening S wants me to spend an hour or so in Central Park listening to The NY Philharmonic before I hop off to an industry party at The Box to celebrate Bastille Day with lots of free Champagne.

Then for some reason closely allied to incipient insanity I agreed to take an 8am breakfast tomorrow. I figure I can just do grunting whilst they do presenting at me. Then lunch with JK in Soho, more meetings and supper with L for a dose of sorely needed English loveliness.

Two days is enough. For all my whinging I'll be glad to get back to the country.