LONDON

I miss London. That’s the simple truth. From the minute I caught sight of that big white horse carved into the hillside somewhere in south England thirty minutes before the plane landed at Gatwick I knew I had come home. Or at least to the land that resonates best with my writer’s soul. Customs was smooth. I was chauffeured to Chelsea Cloisters by my friend Nigel Lewis and bent his ear the entire way with an inexhaustible stream of chatter and then the owner of Chelsea Cloisters wanted my autograph and damn it I felt famous! Or at least very welcome indeed. Gordon Anderson and Jamie made the Cellar Door launch an evening to remember. My friends Jonathan Moore, Anthony Cable and Gerry Taylor-Wood read excerpts from my book and I made a rushed speech thanking everyone from God to the local baker. I recall the night now in a kind of pink shimmer. Met up with my friend Monika Lidke for lunch the next day in a little cafe opposite Drury Lane Theatre and as we were eating I compiled a fantasy wish-list in my mind…one day my musicals Alexander, Goddesses and The Last Tale will play Drury Lane. On Thursday night we had the second launch at Questors where I met the beautiful Amanda Redman and sipped chardonnay with her and Lucy Aly-Parker and my aunt Anne Meecham until midnight. Almost missed the last train back to Kensington. But who cares? I could have waltzed home. Friday night Jonathan Moore took me to Tate Modern and we had a glass of wine in view of Saint Paul’s Cathedral. Then on Saturday I went alone to Hyde Park and watched a bevy of cheeky squirrels who would only let me photograph them in exchange for nuts. Home again to Australia all too soon and the boring old grind of life in pastels shades. I am told Catch the Moon, Mary is selling well. Good. May it sell enough to pay my way back to London!