W/c January 12th 2009 includes the following: Monday - yoga, Tuesday - pub quiz, Wednesday - Seven Pounds Premiere, Thursday - Vicky Christina Barcelona screening, Friday - Mark’s birthday dinner and Marika’s birthday party in town, Saturday - Powerplate, Bodycon class, Sas & Dan to dinner.
The following week sees me popping out to Joaquin Cortes at the Roundhouse, a friend’s show at the The Gate in Notting Hill, Ballet C de la B at Sadler’s Wells, lunch at Isabel’s, Roots Manuva at Koko, Valkyrie premiere & Tom Cruise interview and Eric’s birthday in East London.
In the ‘Notes’ section I have told myself I need to do the following: book a day at Champneys, organise press tickets, file taxes, check my travel insurance and get my guitar re-strung.
Fast forward a year and my January is empty. The pages are a wasteland of days and dates and woefully empty pages. My poor, poor moleskin must have been sobbing into its perfectly intact spine at such a pitiful sight. In January 2010 I am lucky if I’m able to get dressed before midday, and out of the house before 2pm. I eat microwave meals (Innocent Veg Pots in fairness – still desperately trying to get my 5-a-day) and drinking Becks Blue is a real treat. Putting on make up is a seriously big deal, and washing my hair is a rare occurrence. I congratulate myself on getting to Starbucks, abandon shopping baskets in Tescos to flee home as quickly as possible, and am desperate for sleep.
But when I look into the bright blue eyes of little Lady Norks-a-Lot, and she gives me a great big gummybear smile, I could cry with happiness. OK, so the tears might be fuelled by a bit of hormonal bamboozlement and a whole heap of sleep deprivation, but the point is, I’m probably the happiest I have ever been in my whole life, and the most content.