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Today I decided I IZ NOT SIK and went out to my cats in Warwick Avenue, who were particularly needy. Each one of them got twenty minutes of determined cuddling, after which I sat down with my computer and tried to write my autobiography, since the cats had settled down happily and where grooming themselves contentedly.

All, that is, apart from F, who came to sit beside me and, noticing how my attention wasn't on him 100%, put a white-socked paw on my chest and told me, "Meow." I tried scritching him, but even petting him with one hand while looking at the screen wasn't enough for him, eliciting more polite paws and determined "Meows."

He's so lovely. If I hadn't had to meet Alex, I would have stayed far more than my contractual hour.

Anyway, then I met Alex at Notting Hill, we had a good lunch at Pain Quotidien, walked through Portobello where I took a lot of lousy photos with the wrong setting, then caught a bus home.

I am still suffering with a damn cold and my throat still hurts, but a lot less than it used to. Last night I managed to sleep fairly well by falling asleep in front of the Tv on the sofa, let's see how it goes tonight.