171. Part 1

It's been a hard days night and I've been working like a...well you know?

I'd just returned from a rather jolly night out in Soho, which included a gallery opening and book signing by the artist Sir Peter Blake, creator of The Beatles iconic Sergeant Pepper album cover (I resisted the temptation to mention The Fab Four.

Pulling back the bed covers and in mid-crawl betwixt the sheets, the phone rang; N (see Blog 142) was back in town from Oz, he's in the entertainment business and was taking care of things over here for a few days.

'I'd love to come over' I said, but I can't drive, I've had a glass too many,' 'Aw don't you worry little Missy, I'll send my driver over to pick you up, and I'll have him take you back.'

Into the shower I did a go-go, slipped on some fresh lingerie, stockings and a change of frock; the car turned up some forty minutes later and whisked me off through a dark, chill and sleepy London town and onto Blakes Hotel (Molton Brown toiletries).

N was waiting outside, getting some air, he'd been flying for nearly twenty-four hours and then it was meetings all evening when he arrived; it was now 2am. The room was sumptuously hung with heavy velvets, giving it a royal, decadent feel, I passed on the champagne, I'd had my fill already that evening

We never have sexual intercourse, we do everything else but. People have their own particular codes of conduct and for N, it's play as much you want but never fuck, that's where he draws his line in the sand, he's a married man and feels this is his way of staying faithful; I'm more than happy not to moralise.

It was 8am before I left and 9am by time I got to bed, I was up again at noon for a dental check-up and then flat-out busy for the rest of the day, taking care of all those little things that make my life look seamless. A 8pm I was meeting The Colonel for dinner. After dropping him off at Tower Hill station, it was back to the Office for another change of outfit and a midnight rendezvous with N back at his hotel.

What I'm reading in bed...

Mussolini, His Part in My Downfall: Spike Milligan