If it's Tuesday, then I must be rambling...

Oof. I do not know whether I am coming or going. According to my Outlook calendar, I should be on plane somewhere over the Atlantic right now. Instead, I am sitting at the long pine table in my mother’s farmhouse kitchen, frantically stabbing at my laptop keyboard, muttering at myself.

I had this lovely calm plan for today, which involved waking early, clearing out a shed or two, packing up my mother’s eBay sales, a little light blogging, maybe some whippet prodding, some cupcake baking and a thousand words or so on my book.

Fat bloody chance. My getting up early plans were completely squashed by Virgin Atlantic. I tried all day yesterday to get through to their call centres to cancel my flight for today, eventually reasoning that as the lines were open 24hrs a day, I might as well wait until after midnight to call when the lines wld be clear.

Ha! Idiot. I spent over two hours caught in a circle of despair, as every ten minutes or so the Virgin Flying Club call centre hold music abruptly terminated & I was cut off. Oh and of course there was the mendacious employee in Reservations who promised to put me through to the right department – and then promptly put me into another holding queue.

It was about 4am by the time my ticket was re-booked for later this month.

So today has not been ideal. I overslept, and have been chasing my tail since. I’ve given a Greek magazine LLG’s thoughts on SS10 trends, talked to numerous beauty publicists, dealt with some agency requests and contemplated the prospect of covering London Fashion Week, which wasn’t on my to-do list, but may well happen.

Anyway, I’ve decided to drive to London right now for last minute Vietnamese supper in Islington with Miss P, and three days of back to back appointments.

Tomorrow morning is diamonds at Sotheby’s. There are worse ways to start the day.