My house is never cleaner than when I am WFH. And as I have basically been doing that for the last six months, I am confident you could eat off almost any surface including that top shelf where I keep the bowls and vases that I never use. I suppose writing this blog is yet another diversion from getting down to the work that might actually keep me in mandolins and (futile) bikini waxes. I have recently set up my own company with the ambition of making TV shows. It’s what I’ve been doing for 20 years for other people, several of whom I’ve seen get monumentally rich from my efforts. So I figured why not give it a go and see what happens.

Now, things have recently started to crystalise. And I don’t mean like the honey that I found yesterday while I was cleaning the pantry cupboard. I mean that there is a broadcaster who is interested in one of my ideas. This of course has led to total and utter paralysis in creativity and a bout of such furious tidying that I am truly worried for my health. They have asked for a few adjustments to the proposal and some work on the casting of the project and I am seriously wondering if in cleaning out the pan drawer, I am on a mission to self-sabotage. Is there some kind of support group I could join? Does The Betty Ford Clinic have a program for such ridiculous behaviour?

None of this has been helped by the fact that my ‘office’ burnt down a couple of weeks ago. When I say, my ‘office’ I mean The Electric House, which is a members club round the corner from my flat in Notting Hill where I can sit myself on a sofa at 10am every morning, suck their electricity and be brought soya capps at my every whim. There was a fire in a ventilation duct apparently so I am now faced with wandering the stucco fronts of Westbourne Grove searching out a new home.

Today I decided on Books for Cooks. Normally far too many distractions in there but as I’m working on casting a TV show that has a passing reference to food, it seemed like a sensible place to settle myself. Eric, the owner wasn’t there, which was probably a good thing as we would have ended up gossiping and Clara the chef in residence knocked me up a lovely coffee. The morning passed too quickly and at midday sharp the hordes descended for wonderful lunch service. Such were the numbers that I shared my table with a regular who travels down from KensalRise once a week for a treat.Image

There’s a no choice menu for a bargain £9 I think. Today it was lentil and beetroot salad, asparagus and goat cheese tart and a choice of cake. I shared the chocolate sponge with my table-mate who was as obsessive about restaurants as me but confessed to a loathing of cooking. Loves eating. Hates cooking…and odd combo no?

Anyway, we had a great chat and swapped numbers so another score for eating out alone. Sounds like she’s got the perfect kitchen for filming in too which is always good to know. Ok, back to work…after I sort out that lingerie drawer.


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