Blast

I had bad news on Friday, which is probably why I went to so many parties. Option two of the life changing news finally came back today with a negative. I'm mildly despondent to say the least. Blast, blast and thrice blast.

The view from the people was they liked me but my idea was a bit to strange for them, or at least too strange for them to be able to sell it to other people in the company. Publishing is a funny ol' game. Even if you do have a bit of a following (a faintly ridiculous amount of people read this blog now), a reasonable profile in the papers and fairly comprehensive battle plan of how you would promote a book it just doesn't seem to be enough.

Never mind, I shall allow myself an hour of feeling a little bit glum, while drinking a brandy and then I shall redouble my efforts.

I've to got a restaurant to review tonight, and tomorrow I've got a couple more and then for reasons I don't really understand I'm going to the Danish Embassy. That's bound to cause an adventure.

No beard, no news

My week of relaxing in Devon is drawing to an end, and I still have no news. Argh etc. At least I'll be distracted for the next few days. I'm going to an all-girl surfing school in Cornwall to learn how to surf.

I didn't realise it was an all-girls school when I arranged it but they are allowing me to go anyway. I'll be staying in a hotel with 15 other girls, well women really. It's a school for grown-ups. 15 lovely women from London who are getting away for a weekend, and me. Ding to the dong.

Right, I have to shave off my beard, find a good bottle of brandy to take with me (for night caps of course) and select my cravats for the trip.

Important lessions about hot tubs

My previous encounters with hot tubs have been rather rushed affairs. You will be at some bash and suddenly someone mentions there is a hot tub and before you know it you are flailing away in bubbly water with strangers. Hurrah!

Maybe it was the element of pre-planning that threw me, or perhaps it was just the rather chilly spring evening but I think the main reason that I didn't go onto the tub last night is it was packed with boys.

Chaps were absolutely stuffed in thing like a hairy game of fleshy Tetris. There were four boys in the tub for every girl, and it was a fairly small tub. While the odds may be rather good fun for the girls it would have involved a bit too much manly thigh pressing for my tastes.

One of the girls really did enjoy it, she was some sort of 'glamma model' or at least that is what she insisted on informing us of every five minutes and when the tub contained just her and two other chaps they engaged in some erm, well. I went upstairs for a cocktail with a lovely Iranian girl at that point.

We shared a few more drinks, talked about extreme sports, doing dangerous things and how we met the hostess of the party. At about 3am my new chum scampered off, but before she left she said I should have her phone number and the gave it to me. Which I found rather charming. No mixed signals there.

Downstairs the antics in the hot tub had continued but they still weren't very tempting so I had a brandy for the road and then ambled off home. Home at way past the curfew so I'm probably going to get quite a telling off when I next bump into the flatmate.