Bleurrrrrrrghaghnmdomswuinaxjnsxsklarghhhhhhh.

That’s the only noise I’m capable of making right now since I’ve spent ALL WEEK going over and over and over and over (you get the point) my new book again before I send it to my editor on Monday. I have only eaten beige food. I have drunk roughly eleventy trillion cups of tea. I have put on a bra, what, once? Maybe twice? My flat looks like it could be entered for the next series of How Clean Is Your House? Although I let myself out for a wander along the towpath today and look how high the tide was. Right across the road. ‘Pfffft. Eeet’s not as bad as Venice,’ said an Italian lady next to me, as a father with a kid on the back of his bike started to cycle through it and then turned back, but not before he’d soaked his shoes in the process. It all happens in Chiswick.

Anyway, I’m going out for supper and a big glass of red wine in a tick which means I shall probably have to be brought home and put to bed shortly afterwards but HERE is my column from Monday’s Standard on a topic I am increasingly obsessed with.