I seem to have a billion things to write at the moment. In addition to keeping this updated, I'm writing stuff for Cliterati, and Boredandhorny. I'm also writing the Sex and Loving newsletters, my novel(s) and 50 pieces of erotica per month (OK, some of that's editing rather than writing, but still...) for a new commission I've landed.

On the one hand, it's great to be writing so much. I've wanted to be a writer since I was a kid, and now I'm spending over 8 hours per day writing, I figure I can officially call myself a writer.

On the other, it's weird having the constant pressure to come up with ideas. Whereas I used to treat ideas as fun things that I could keep on the back burner for a later date, now, I have to write them all down and do stuff with them.

Hell, why am I moaning. I love it.

Am very tired but happy. The Cliterati party rocked! Our T-shirts arrived on time and look fab. Kingfisher Leisure are ace. They usually take 14 days to deliver but sorted out our T-shirts in two days. Very impressed.

Everyone wanted one. I'm glad I only took ten of the 50 shirts to the party cos otherwise I'd have given them all away and I'm still skint enough to need to sell some to make my money back. As it is, a couple have gone to Mikabomb, one's gone to Cosmoplitan, the Cliterati team have obviously got some, as have Cake and Lovehoney. They'll be on sale on Lovehoney soon.

Th sex toy stand went down a treat. Seeing some of the more corporate types chatting about the toys was entertaining. One suited bloke even shoved a toy down his trousers. Needless to say, we let him keep it. People really got into the spirit of things - although it was very disturbing to find half the toys had been lubed up. At least, I hope it was lube...

By the end of the night, all the sex toys had been nabbed. Probably a good thing. Didn't fancy the idea of carrying home a bin bag full of slimy sex toys.

Think everyone had a good time, if the number of thankyou emails I got this morning is anything to go by. The lack of sleep was worth it. But I'm glad I only do a couple of parties a year.

The other day, I was bored and horny. Given that I'm online for about 18 hours a day (excluding those times when I'm in meetings/down the pub) I typed boredandhorny.com into a browser. It didn't return anything. I checked further. No-one had registered boredandhorny.com. I figured, hell, I'm having a party on Thursday with loads of media people in attendance. May as well create a new site to tell them about.

Of course, the DNS took a few days to propogate so that leaves me with one day to build it. Luckily, there's a great thing called Geeklog - a content management system that does most of the work. And a lovely person called Matt Jones created some skins for geeklog at Geeksta.com so that sorted out most of the design. Throw in a couple of cartoons - one for bored
and one for horny - designed by my mate Phil and that's the look sorted. Here they are:

She's horny. And she's bored.

Now there's just the content to worry about. Luckily, the people at TheFridayThing said they were up for helping and donated some articles. A few emails later and I had another contributor. And then there are those articles about sex that I've had knocking around for a while and not got round to pitching anyone with. It's a start.

So, I'm now in the process of setting up a site in 24 hours. Hell, got to be worth a try.

If you've got any cool links, sexy stories or general things that would be of interest to people who are bored and horny add them to the site. Please!

This morning I decided to give my new boots a test drive. For the first time, my boot-cut jeans actually had a chance to live up to their name.

I headed off to Kensington feeling happy. The boots have got a hefty heel taking me from an average 5' 6" to a far more impressive 5'10". I felt tall. I felt elegant. My posture improved. I was a woman wearing 100 per cent leather Italian boots and I was proud.

Fast forward two hours. I was in agony. I was limping. I was a woman struggling not to twist her ankle thanks to uneven paving slabs and stupid sodding four inch heels. I had no circulation below the ankle. And of course, Kensington bus stops all seemed to be out of action so I ended up walking to Notting Hill. It's a short trip. When you don't feel like you're walking on drawing pins with every step while elephants stamp on your feet.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Off to find the Peppermint Foot Lotion and help my poor feet recover. Last time I buy shoes 'cos they look nice. From now on, I'm sticking to my Docs.

Ended up blathering to a mate on IM until 6am yesterday (today). He's working on a really exciting new media project and was asking if I fancied getting involved. The more we talked, the more exciting it sounded. Am hooking up with him to talk about the possibilities.

It's nice to have a marketing commission to go with my writing commissions. I was beginning to miss it. I've always liked juggling writing and marketing cos they're such different things; writing is solitary, marketing is sociable, writing is best done without a team (having had lawyers re-write radio scripts I'd written in the past and turn them into turgid dross, I know this to be true) and marketing is so much better with brainstorming. Although I can't stand that 'If this brand was a car, what would it be?' style of brainstorming. If you're marketing a bar of chocolate, you aren't going to be running ads showing it elegantly cruising down a mountain road. Therefore, knowing it would be a Kharmen Ghia if it was a car is irrelevant.

I always thought that getting hash dealers to sample chocolate bars would be a great way of launching a new range; associating your bar of chocolate as the munchie of choice would surely result in massive sales. If anyone could remember which chocolate bar it was they'd tried.

Have been having a great time reading about Charlie Skelton and Vicky Coren's attempts to make an ethical porn movie. I read an extract from their book Once More with Feeling and have got to buy it.

I'll steal Charlie's words to explain the book (hoping he won't mind if I repeat the urging to buy the book.)

When my friend Vicky and I set out to make our own porn film, we wanted to see if we could make 'ethical pornography' - to see if we could make an erotic film in which no one was unhappy, or getting shafted in any other than the best sense of the word. We think we succeeded. Our porn film may not be terribly erotic, but the atmosphere on set was ...fun and friendly. Our film would perhaps have been a bit more erotic if those damned Belgians had turned up for the orgy, but that's another story.

Have finally got round to signing up for The Friday Thing - an extremely funny and informative newsletter and can highly recommend it. With all this stuff to read, not sure how I'll fit any time in for work.

Have just been reading through 'Escape' - The Guardian's holiday supplement. Realised it's the closest thing to a holiday I've had in over a year. Last year, I spent 5 days house-sitting for my boss in Brighton but I had to come back for meetings and take his cat to the vets so only had 3 days of holiday. The year before that, I had a long weekend in Dublin and totally fell in love with the place. Utterly relaxing, cheap drink and loads of friendly eye-candy.

The year before that, I spent a week in Belgium and wished it had only been four days. Expensive food and boring sights; the very small and subtley titled 'Pissing Boy' and a 200 foot tall model of an atom. You can imagine the council meeting. 'OK, we haven't got much of a tourist trade and we need to do something to sort it. What's that? Pissing is funny. Oh, great idea. We'll have a cherub wetting itself, that'll bring them flocking. Ooh - and atoms, right. They're supposed to be really really small. So if we make one that's really really big, it's ironic, yeah, and everyone will see how interesting we can be.'

Am definitely overdue for a holiday. On the plus side, at least I haven't had to deal with sunburn. I've got the classic white to lobster-red to white skin. Not flattering and very painful. So I stick to the factor 75 and stay white, while all around me long-legged tanned babes abound, looking horribly healthy in that 'should be in a tampon ad rollerskating with a pair of dalmations on leads' kind of way.

I'm still adjusting to the freelance life. Whereas, in my wage-slave days, I looked forward to Bank Holidays, planning where I'd go to and what I'd do, now it's just like any other day. I've gone through a business proposal for Cliterati, written a press release about our first birthday, followed up a couple of sponsorship opportunities, subbed a newsletter and written an article about technology.

It somehow doesn't feel as much like work though. I'm choosing to work today but it means that tomorrow I can take a couple of hours off to get my hair cut and generally get pampered without feeling guilty. I love freelance life.

I keep meaning to take a 'weekend' mid week just cos I can. Although, given that I've already confused my body clock by working 11am-4am, maybe I shouldn't lose track of what day it is too.

Had a really nice surprise. I referred a friend of mine to a client a while back. They emailed me yesterday to say that they wanted to give me a commission for the introduction. Works out well for both of us. I'd have carried on referring them anyway, cos they're ace at what they do. Now, I'll be actively looking for people to refer them to.

Referrals are the best kind of work. Introduce people to each other. Get cash. Nice effort vs reward ratio.

Usually, shopping bores me. I can't see the point of trudging round trying on endless outfits, none of which will fit properly,when I could be doing far more useful things like sitting in a pub. But yesterday, I ended up in Richmond with a mate doing the shopping thing, and loved it.

I found a gorgeous pair of boots; Italian, leather, calf length, lace-up, black and reduced from £106 to £40. Obviously, I had to have them.

It's rare that I fall in love with a pair of shoes. While my mates lust after Manolo Blahnik's, I stick with my Doc Martens. They're comfy. They keep my feet dry. Thus, they fulfil both criteria required by a shoe. But these boots were so gorgeous, I couldn't resist.

Got them home and tried them on with my 'slut dress' (full length, slashed to the thigh, black, slinky, laces up the front) Friend said I'd terrify people if I went out wearing it. Guess it does look a bit sub-dom.

Maybe I'll stick to wearing a Cliterati T-shirt and jeans to the party on Thursday. (assuming the T-shirts turn up on time.) But I want to wear my foxy new boots.

Someone pointed out earlier that the calendar on my site shows I never post on Thursdays. They asked why. I have no idea at all.

I've long believed the Thursdays are the new Friday. So maybe I'm far too busy being out having fun on a Thursday to bother writing anything. But I can't see how my lifestyle differs on Thursdays compared to most other days of the week, and I manage to post here the rest of the time.

Anyway, that aside, I was on London Live this morning. At the frankly illegal hour of 7am. On a weekend. And a Bank Holiday weekend at that.

It was for a thing called the '60 second plug'. I was talking about the Cliterati first birthday party and had 60 seconds to plug it. To be on the safe side ('cos you don't want to be talking porn unscripted at breakfast time on the BBC) I scripted it (will get round to posting the script when I can be arsed to type it up.). I timed it repeatedly last night. It was exactly 60 seconds.

So obviously, this morning, I did it too quickly and had 2 seconds of dead air. Couldn't even give away the sex toys that had been donated by Lovehoney because, apparently, someone had said 'motherfucker' earlier in the show that day and they didn't want to court any more controversy.

They then went on to discuss Irving Walsh's new novel, Porno. Such is life.

Been subbing a book for a guy who's on Ryze. It's about dating and depression and is a really good read.

He's from the US and the women over there sound so different from most of my mates. Apparently, the man has to make the first move and the women are rubbish at flirting, thinking a glance will suffice.

Sounds far too time-consuming to me. Having heard women utter such subtle delights as 'So, can I crash at yours tonight?', 'Can I buy you a drink?' and even 'Fancy a blow job?' and blokes still not realise she was interested, I'm always amused by the whole dating thing. I've counselled many male friends through the realisation that the woman they'd been lusting after for months actually was coming on to them and the fact that she said 'I'd love to have sex with you sometime' may have been a small indication she was interested.

Maybe we should all have red, amber and green lights on our foreheads. If we fancy a person, the green light comes on. If we don't, the red light comes on. If we might, then it opts for amber. Would make things far easier. But a lot less fun.

So, on Monday I was out with a mate. He'd had some news which I can't go into but it was really cool. End result was beer. And tequila. And arm wrestling.

The last time I arm wrestled, I was 11. I use to be great at it. Despite being puny, I could beat all the boys at school. Who said girl-power didn't exist until the Spice Girls? (Well, actually Shampoo had a single called Girlpower way before the Spice Girls ever existed but that's the kind of fact that I really shouldn't know.)

So when someone suggested arm wrestling on Monday, after the beer and the tequila had taken effect, I said yes.

My opponent was female. She went to the gym. She had well defined biceps. I, on the other hand, haven't done much more strenuous than lifting a pint to exercise my biceps over the last 10 years.

So I was pleased when I managed to keep my arm upright for a good few minutes before getting royally thrashed.

This morning, I'm less pleased at my show of bravado. My arm hurts. A lot.

Yet more proof that I'm a big girlie wuss.

Saw an advert for a new show on E4 Your Face or Mine. Couples and mates have to vote on who's better looking - their friend/partner or a member of the audience/celeb- to win cash.

Can see a lot of rows breaking out. It's also a bit sad to see more proof that society is image obsessed. Can remember reading something that said attractive people are less likely to be convicted and more likely to be promoted than unattractive people. A TV programme that reinforces looks being important is just another symptom.

But I know I'll be glued to the first episode.

Just got a great viral email. Now, normally, I'm not a huge fan of marketing emails but this one showed that someone at Immac has got a sense of humour. Apparently, it's National Bush Shaving Week - clearly not something created by Immac's PR department but a long and established tradition going back to the Dark Ages. They've got a 'Personality Profiler' to show you which shape reflects your personality best. The site even includes templates so you can make sure you get the shape right.

Stupid.

But funny.

Today's been productive. 2,800 words of novel written. I'm nearly at the 10,000 words required for the initial pitch. Of course, I need to go through it to make sure they're the best possible words they could be. Luckily, I've got a mate who used to be an editor of erotic novels and he's agreed to go through it with me before I submit it.

There's something a bit weird about showing a mate erotic stuff I've written. It's one thing telling mates I run a sex site for women and quite another showing them my own explicit stories. Showing people your writing is hard enough. When it's sexual in content, it's so much more personal. Guess that's why people use pen names.

Sure that coming up with a pen name is going to be the hardest part of things, if the discussions I've heard mates have over 'What are we going to call our band' are anything to go by.

On the plus side, at least I don't have to come up with a name that five other people also agree with, so at least that makes it simpler.

Ended up writing 2,500 words of the porn novel yesterday, which wasn't bad for a Saturday. Once I started writing, it was relatively easy. It was just getting around to starting that was hard.

Chose the porn book cos it's the shortest one; only needs to be 80,000 words. 6,500 down, 73,500 to go. So, if I write at the same rate as yesterday every day, it'll be finished in 29 days. Somehow seems more manageable that way. And at least I've got the synopsis out of the way so I know what's happening in it.

Determined to finish writing at least one of my novels. Fed up of being one of those writers who's got the first three chapters and a synopsis for numerous books but nothing complete. Problem is, I start writing them but because I don't write every day, it takes ages and I lose interest. So, must write some novel every day.

Off to write some more while I've got the motivation.

It's Saturday afternoon. I have the flat to myself for the first time in ages. I've done loads of work this week so don't have to play catch-up on anything. It's the ideal situation to write some of my novel. So can I?

Can I hell.

Have subbed some stuff on cliterati. Have replied to some emails. Can't get the motivation to write any novel.

I've got three on the go. One is an erotic novel. Can't write more porn this week. Another is based around the music industry. Haven't worked in the music industry for over two years. Don't want to plunge back into that world, even in my imagination, at this precise moment. The last one is about quantum physics. Requires research. It's Saturday afternoon. It's hot. My mates are in the pub. Can't face researching quantum physics even though I find it really interesting.

Temptation to join mates in pub almost overwhelming. But I went freelance so I could be a novelist.

Someone should make WD40 to loosen up writer's block.

Just went to check on dinner - roast chicken. Think I may have invented a new recipe. Alcoholic chicken. Tastes gorgeous - the alcohol all boils off leaving a really good gravy:

Ingredients

Peel carrots and chop finely. Do the same with onions and celery. Stuff the chicken with half the veg and scatter the rest in the roasting pan for it to sit on. Peel back the skin on the breast (carefully - you want it to stay in one piece) and stuff with the herbs. Put some deep cuts into the bird in the breast and legs and shove in slivers of garlic. Pour the glass of wine into the bird, pour the spirits over it then finish with some olive oil on top. Shove some salt and pepper on the breast. Put in the oven for as long as it takes to cook

If there's any gravy left, chuck it in when you make the stock out of the bones cos it makes an amazing risotto.

Had the meeting about condoms. New firm setting up - got the kitemarks and all the rest of it. Look good. Worked out a potentially killer promotion that taps into the whole 'size does matter' debate which could be fun. Was given some samples to test. Yet another hellish part of my job...

The same company's also doing 'kissing sprays' that change the taste of your breath; eg, you spray cherry flavour in your mouth, your partner sprays coke flavour in their mouth, you snog and both taste cherry coke. Interesting...

Party still going well. Got confirmation from the (very foxy) team at Firebox which is cool cos they're always good people to party with. Great site too - they do ace boy-toys (gadgets, shot glass chess sets, Twister games etc).

Fairly laid-back weekend planned. Meeting the 'sex book' woman on Sunday for lunch to talk more filth but other than that, planning to sleep lots and maybe write some more of my novel.

Yeah, right.

Even more cool people coming to the party. Found out about a new sex TV channel launching - Pout. Aimed at women and couples apparently. They mailed me to see if they could come to the party. Obviously, said yes.

About to go off to meet a guy about a condom company. Lovely bloke with some interesting ideas on what he's going to do. I like having conversations with intelligent people.

Have been scouring Cosmopolitan. Apparently I'm quoted in this month's issue but I'm buggered if I can find where.

Saw Diners again last night. It seems to be on all the time at the moment. Getting more nervous by the day - seriously considering not doing it cos I realised they have captions appearing over people all the way through. Dreading seeing stuff like 'Dodgy old slapper obsessed by sex' superimposed over me.

Particularly cos it would be kinda accurate...

Came home and caught the end of Diners featuring Roland Rivron, some drag queens and an actor. They do an Animal House style caption thing at the end - 'So and so is now filming their fourth series of Holiday' etc. Am bricking it even more now, wondering what my caption will be. Everyone on it appeared to be hammered. I know what my self control is like. I know there will be free alcohol. I'm dreading what I'll say.

At the moment, the shortlist of my dinner guests is the woman who's bringing Cake lapdancing clubs for women over to the UK and one of the Cliterati sub-editors. Clearly, the conversation topic will be sex.

Must not drink alcohol.

But I will.

On a different note, Magnolia paint debate referred to in last post led to conversation as to what colour Magnolia is after 5 years of cigarette smoke have tainted it.

Fagnolia was the obvious answer.

Another cool but busy day. More TV people want to come to the party and word of mouth seems to be spreading. I love word of mouth - so much easier than posters and flyers.

Spent last night being regaled with horror stories about dates by recently single male friend. Luckily, he was very happy with the woman I set him up with and will probably be seeing her again. Result!

Extract from very amusing email on one such nightmare date:

Right, so my new flat, having it repainted by a decorator and she said, "What colour?" I replied "Well, being a guy these things don't bother me. It's only a rental property so I just thought to myself I'd have it painted a neutral tone that no-one could object to. I told the decorator to paint it beige. I said I don't mind what it's called (Sunset Sahara, Barley White, Magnolia, Sugar Cane White or whatever) just paint it that colour." The decorator said to me, "So, Magnolia, then?" and I said "Yeah sure."

Bugger, I thought. Being a guy I've screwed up - I thought beige was beige and all this rubbish about the names was just a way to con people out of paying lots more money for the same colour. So, I text messaged the decorator with new instructions. Yesterday, I was in B&Q. The only difference between Porcelain White and Magnolia is the price. They are to within such mind bogglingly small levels the same colour that I doubt anyone walking into my rental property would go, "Magnolia?! On these walls?! Are you some kind of anarchist?

Made me smile.

Seem to have got into situation where I'm setting up half the people I know with each other. I know so many recently single people. Maybe Summer makes everyone think of holiday romances and decide they don't want to be tied down to a partner. Only problem with this setting up dates thing is keeping track of who I've set up with whom. Beginning to think I should set up dubberleydating.com!

Only problem is that it can be too accurate. I stopped setting people up about 5 years ago when all the people I set up ended up getting engaged. When the first pair ended up having a baby, I couldn't cope with it. Way too much responsibility!

Still, they seem happy enough.

...quite how ballistic things go when I do a Cliterati party. It's ace. Have had hundreds of journos contacting me all day. Of course, now would be the time that stuff starts getting hectic on the consultancy side too. Still, having people from all the glossies and a fair few TV types wanting to come to the party is cool. Will just have to work till even later at night to get everything done.

Am being filmed on Thursday for BBC Choice show 'Diners'. First time I've ever done TV and am a tad nervous. OK, I'm bricking it. Must remember to stick to mineral water and not say anything embarrassing.

Like that's going to happen.

Dead chuffed. Sent out the invitations to the cliterati party via email yesteday and have already had 10 replies back, which is cool, given it's the weekend and I sent most invitations to people's office addresses.

Went to a friends for dinner yesterday and had the barbecue from heaven; tuna, pork, steak, halloumi and veggie kebabs with gorgeous salad. Can't believe how much I managed to eat. Very tasty. Talked until about 4am, mostly about trashy novels and shagging.

Got a piece on Cliterati recommended by Backwash which is cool. It's a really good site. Found loads of links to good, non-sleazy sex sites and general fun stuff.

Have resigned myself to fact that I am getting old. Friend had Radio Four on this morning. I found myself listening to 'Just a Minute' and loving it. That, added to the amount of dinner parties I seem to be having/going to shows the decline is already happening.

Must continue to moisturise daily so that no-one realises my secret.

Just read NTK - a weekly irreverent tech newsletter. Many good jokes but this one seemed particularly relevant to cliterati and the general smut-fest I seem to be living in at the moment. [Brief explanation: Google 'Sets' generate lists of similar things.] See what you think of this set.

Planning the Cliterati First Birthday party. Venue sorted, first sponsor secured - just need to get the invitations out now. Refuse point blank to do canapes. Did last year - 300 of the bastards. Couldn't face making crostini for months afterwards.

However, there will be cocktails so I can live out my Sex and the City daydreams, for one night at least. Found a quiz to see which character you're most like. Usually hate that kind of thing but hell, I'm hungover, so tried it for a giggle. Was most chuffed to find I come out as Carrie.

Feel pathetic for even caring.

Woke up this morning slightly hungover, after spending the night drinking with Cliterati's foxy lawyer. He's attached but is more than happy to be described as foxy. Can't think why.

Turned on TV. Was watching BBC News 24. First story. 'Wheelbarrow racing is the hot new trend'. Second story. '2 minute silence to protest hedge laws'. Thought I'd woken up in a parallel universe. To make things worse, wheelbarrow piece obviously a PR plant - they even showed an advert which was apparently 'inspired' by this 'hot new trend'. Clearly, the silly season is upon us.

Have been mailing all my male mates cos New Woman are looking for Britain's top 100 sexy bachelors. A couple of attached mates have mentioned that they'd consider turning single just so they could say they were one of the 100 sexiest bachelors in the UK. Know someone who'd be good? Mail kate.turner@emap.com with your email address/contact details, his profession and preferably his picture.

So, the bi-curious gathering happened and was a top giggle. Unfortunately, the rain meant that half the people didn't show - not cos they're scared of rain but because London Underground are incapable of running a decent tube service when the weather is less than perfect. It started to tip it down. Within an hour, at least four stations were flooded and huge chunks of the lines were closed down.

Arrived at gathering early because the meeting I had beforehand finished earlier than expected. Rather than wait in the pub (given that I was trying to be good and avoid smoking) I decided to wander around the shops. Checked out Claire's Accessories for the first time. Made me pine to be a kid again. Everthing that didn't glitter was either made of fake fur or covered in maribou. And then there were the sachets of stuff; pheremone wipes, natural collagen for lip-plumping, face masks. Wish I still got pocket money and could justify spending it on 100 per cent silver coloured jewellery. Then again...

So, after getting all nostalgic for the days of blue eyeliner and orange concealer, I went to the pub for the bi-curious gathering. Everyone sat round, got drunk and got indiscrete (myself included).

Managed to hold out on smoking until my very first drink.

Must try harder.

I'm quite impressed. After sleeping for most of the day and necking another handful of the same vitamin pills as yesterday, I'm feeling a lot better. It rocks. Even managed to write those reviews of The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Girl Sex and Lust Under Leo, along with a report for one of my marketing clients (always good doing the reports cos they're attached to invoices) and a sex feature for another client - this one about how to have sexual self confidence.

As I've managed to go for two days without smoking because of this lurgy, have decided to make yet another attempt to give up smoking. However, given that it's the bi-curious gathering for the documentary tomorrow and there will no doubt be a fair bit of free booze, I'm not rating my chances that highly. Wish you could buy will-power in the shops.

Sent The Stripper Diaries off to some people today - a literary agent and a couple of publications. Reckon she's an ace writer with a unique voice and all that bollocks and it would be ace if I could help her out.

Guess I should meet her at some stage.

Woke up this morning with a throat so swollen that it hurts to swallow at all. Not happy. Have been necking vitamin C, zinc, garlic pills, gelsemium, aconite and lucozade in attempt to get rid of it. Can't afford to be ill. However, did make me feel good about being freelance cos I can still check my emails and write articles from home instead of having to take a day off sick.

Got an ace new contributor for cliterati. She's writing the Stripper Diaries - I added her first, second and third pieces today. Really think she deserves a wider audience. It's compelling stuff.

Have got two books to review - Lust Under Leo (which, interestingly, is currently more expensive if you get a used copy...) and The Good Girl's Guide to Bad Girl Sex. Finished reading them yesterday and both are good (although the latter is a self-help book - a genre I normally abhor) Guess I'd better get on with them.

After I've crashed out for a bit.

Went to Stringfellows yesterday to introduce the dancer I know there to my mate from Cake. It was smaller than I expected. My dancer friend met us at the door and took us downstairs, which is apparently better than upstairs.

Was most narked that we couldn't sit at a table unless we bought a bottle of champagne for £50. Found a bar stool and stuck to the wine instead (figured out, after two bottles of lager cost £9, that it was cheaper to stick to wine at £15 a bottle) Can see how they've made their money.

However, there were a lot of very foxy male and female dancers, so it was a good enough experience. Turned out that the Cake girl knew one of the other dancers there so we got a load of inside info. Saw a couple of C list celebs who seemed to be splashing the cash around, which fulfilled a few cliches for us.

Other than the dancers we knew, the women were mostly clones - gave me the impression they've got a genetic engineering lab at the back of the venue producing blonde haired, blue eyed, large chested ladies on a production line. Was surprised at how many of the girls were wearing nasty white outfits. Then again, if I had a figure as good as they had, I probably wouldn't care what I wore. Had great fun discussing which girls had got implants, then checking with our mates who work there to see if we were right.

On a less fun note, one of the friends we met had her drink spiked at a bar in Knightsbridge on Friday night. Luckily, she was with her bloke who managed to get her home safely, but when he tried to put her into a cold shower to bring her round, she got really aggressive. She doesn't remember a thing about it. Scary. Was holding my drink all night after she told us that.

After it happened, she read up on it and apparently the usual trick is for the guys to spike your drink, wait till you go to the loo and pass out then tell the bouncer that you're their girlfriend. Half the time, the bouncers help the sick bastard carry you out of the club. Alternatively, they wait for you to come out of the loos feeling disoriented, say they'll help see you home and then, once they've got you in a cab passed out, take advantage. Sick.

Can't understand how anyone could sink that low.

I could get used to days like yesterday. Signed a big deal which has taken me the best part of a year to sort out so sat round drinking champagne with the client to celebrate.

After that, it was off the the Oxo Tower for another meeting. It was my first ever visit and god, I can see why people rave about it now. Had Steak Tartare with Quails Eggs and Parmesan, Scallops with Roast Butternut and a Chocolate platter with hot chocolate tart, white chocolate mousse and milk chocolate praline mousse. Possibly the best food I've ever eaten, if a tad out of my usual price range. Luckily, my client was paying. Am still salivating and lost in daydreams about the food. Currently considering which vital organ to sell so I can afford to go back there.

Ended the day in rather less salubrious surroundings. Went to meet some mates at the Walkabout, drank beer and danced to cheese music. Actually, didn't dance but instead did that thing that tries to be conversation but because of the volume of the music, it's like playing Chinese Whispers all night.

Got a sweet email today from the MD of Ocado after I was quoted in yesterday's
Guardian saying how ace they are. I was really touched - not the kind of thing I'd usually expect.

Champagne, posh dinner and emails from MDs. I could get used to this kind of life.