My daughter had four friends for a Halloween sleepover last night. They’re nice kids, but this morning several of them decided to have showers and I was left with no hot water – and a pile of wet towels to wash.
I actually heard myself saying ‘It’s not a hotel, you know…’ which made me roar with laughter because I can remember my mum saying it.
The Crown, a pub one street away from my house, has been made over and is now fabulously groovy, with the most lovely bar staff. I love everything about it from the black walls to the selection of about six different gins, with Fever Tree tonic as default.
It has a wonderful atmosphere and attracts really cool people.
I went down tonight with my husband to meet two of our favourite pals for a drink. We hadn’t seen Nancy and Tobit for ages, because Nancy travels so much for her work at Purple PR, one of the biggest fashion PR companies in the business.
At the next table was our mutual friend Lionel, who Nancy has known since they worked together at Katharine Hamnett. The first proper fashion show I ever went to was Katharine Hamnett in 1985, so we have a lot in common.
The joyous thing was that Lionel and Tobit were wearing the same jacket – green khaki Swiss army surplus, £10. It looked great on both of them, but to make a difference Tobit turned his inside out and wore it like that, revealing the bow of tape from the inner drawstring.
We all agreed it looked totally Martin Margiela.