In a week where Naked Scrabble Buddy revelled in temperatures soaring over 30 degrees, my trip to Harrods’ Christmas shop exceeded all expectations!! You may possibly remember that I had a bit of a rant earlier in the year after spending two days dismantling a tinsel-clad house alone. The fairy lights are still in situ… that’s ok, makes partying easier. Anyway, a few large green carrier bags later Gill and I left with baubles and glitter, contrasting sharply with summer frocks and sandals. We love Harrods; the buffet was superb. 
Mr Al Fayed wasn’t dining with us this time, having sold up and moved on. So no one bought us cocktails with our lunch this time. Anyway, I won’t go into detail about that for fear of becoming recognised as a food blogger… I definitely wouldn’t want anyone thinking I like any cookery other than muffins – my domesticity gene went awol sometime after moving into Kingswood Road, never to return.
It’s for a similar reason that the window cleaner comes in to clean my mirrors. Nothing domestic, thank you! Today he caught me without make-up. It wasn’t mentioned and he managed to look reasonably shock-free. He politely chatted about his baby, before I told him about my social media work. So the conversation turned to his friend who has 34,000 Twitter followers. Intrigued, I immediately stopped tweeting for my own social media clients and searched for his friend – yes, 34,000 was correct, a decent number of followers by anyone’s standards, perhaps I should be following too… Well I’m not. I can’t even tell you his twitter handle, but I can say that my date with Ann Summers’ boss was very tame in comparison to what I saw there… the window cleaner had never seen it either and it made us both laugh. He has a new assistant. I wasn’t sorry to see the last lad go… he really should have learned to knock before climbing the ladder to slosh suds on the window of a shower room with someone in it… He really should have married me after that, but Steven wouldn’t have been very pleased.
One thing that will please him this week is a trip to an open air concert at Canary Wharf with a pretend Michael Jackson. I’m hoping that Deedub comes too – he’s a bit nifty with his footwork. A bunch of us went last year to see a Beatles tribute act and the atmosphere was electric, with dancing, singing and picnics with champagne. Loads of my friends are away this week, and missing the London fun, but for those of you who will be there, see you at 6, with Pimms, chicken salad and, maybe, a sparkly trilby.
And if you can’t join us, don’t blame it on the sunshine! Remember, spellbound rhythm gets me on my feet… If you’re moonwalking, I’m following… Or follow me: @WeekendWitch
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