23 April - Hugh Grant

I never go to Chelsea. But in meeting Fulham g/friend G. I wait for her at bar in Sloane Sq where I run into Serge the russian with his brazilian friends. How odd. Then she arrives with old paramour who's a bit sozzled (she isn't as she's going to have IVF soon) from a meeting to discuss world cup comedy anthem, look up chenille steele. And then when we're hungry she suggests going to Brinkleys. Last time I was around there we had to duck Prince Harry. This time as we approach Hugh Grant comes out. Doesn't look so hot.

Thai curry is nice, place is heaving with people whose world is sort of not mine. Funny how it's only a few miles down the road from me, but we never cross. G wants a drink by now as she's feeling rebellious and frankly a bit resentful that the alcohol ban only applies to her and not to hubby who is training hard for triathlon and then going on the piss after sessions. She's sports widow! Barred from horseriding too which she enjoys a lot. The poor mite.