Things here in Historic Bath have been a little on the stressful and grumpy side this weekend, mainly due to the boy having a massive work project on and me still grappling with a confusing timetable and some tediously complex admin. We spent the weekend alternately working and feeling guilty for not working, with the boy in the office all day Saturday and, he predicts, until midnight tonight. It was a timely reminder of why we left London; because every weekend was like this but worse and with added sirens.

In happier news, lots of the designers I interviewed for the Holland Herald over the summer have been in contact to say that they've heard raves about their pieces and requesting issues of the magazine. This is, of course, wonderful to hear, but it's getting increasingly embarrassing having to explain that I am not, in fact, a go-getting, Lois Lane-style media type, but rather a pyjama-wearing, Ikea-kitchen-table-sitting layabout with no access to the actual magazine whatsoever. The peeps at Hetty Rose have put a scan of their snippet up here, which I mention merely to highlight that I love Hetty Rose shoes and fully expect the first one of you to earn a million to buy me a pair of silky, fancy loveliness without delay.

That's it. Apologies for the poorly structured rambling but ... I don't even have an excuse. Bye, loveoo!