I HAVE just arrived from a few days away having spent New Year with family and friends, and I must say, Luton Airport is not exactly welcoming.
It’s literally freezing, and the few people wandering around are looking very serious indeed. To top it all off (and I can’t really blame Luton for this…) it’s not even 4pm and it is beginning to get dark.
I pick up an Evening Standard and a cup of tea in an attempt to get back into the swing of things and sit in a bus that will take me to central London. As we drive past people’s homes, the Christmas trees are on the pavement waiting to be taken away by the rubbish collectors and there is not fairy light left in sight…
I flick through my Standard, and hey presto, life doesn’t seem half as dull any more as I see page after page filled with adverts for sales. How could have I forgotten that the January sales are starting this weekend?!
Back home, I catch up with some girlfriends, all of whom have decided that their New Year resolution is to get fit and join the gym. Mine is to read some classic textbooks I haven’t touched since I was at school.
But that can wait: Saturday morning and the sales begin. I get dressed for the weather – which involves so many layers, scarf and hat that I really could be mistaken for the Michelin Man – and set off towards the West End.
As I sit on the top deck of a double-decker bus, I glance down at the busy streets, which, as we turn into Marble Arch and onto Oxford Street have become a sea of people. I go into a few shops and browse, but nothing catches my eye. Then I spot some funky customised T-shirts in Miss Selfridge with punk motifs, which I buy for my cousin – she has just turned 16 and I know she’ll simply love them!
And then, just as I’m thinking of going home, I notice – amongst the mass of people – a white leather bag hiding behind a stack of red ones. I can’t believe my luck: it’s absolutely stunning… and reduced to half its original price. I grab hold of it and run to the till.
I’m so pleased with my find that I decide to call it a day – though not before treating myself to some groceries at the delicatessen counter in the Selfridges Food Hall. Their flavoured coffee is simply divine!
Back in Notting Hill, I unload all my purchases and decide to take a stroll up Portobello to try out my new trainers (thank you Father Christmas) and end up at my gym where I opt for a sauna and a steam to unwind and recharge for the week ahead and the return to work.
After a serious grooming session involving a hair mask, body scrub and facial, I’m glowing and ready to go back home… via the market.
I might start on my New Year resolution… but just as I am wondering which book should head my list, my phone bleeps and I read a text message from some friends wishing me a ‘Happy 2004’ and wondering if I’m back from my trip and want to pop round for a drink at the Prince Bonaparte.
They tell me they have the best table in the pub (the one by the fire), not that I need much persuading. How can I resist? Perhaps I’ll read some Shakespeare tomorrow…
