Old pals in lairy Mayfair

Off to London today, after doing a few bits at home. Nostalgically mooched around some old haunts, and did a bit of shopping before meeting Matty boy and the folks from his agency in a pub called The Footman in Charles Street Mayfair. The man who manages it used to run The City Barge on Strand on the Green, which is where Matt knows him from. Half a dozen police cars outside it when I arrived, but it was nothing to do with the pub, which was full of lairy loadsamoney Tories. One of whom fresh from the party room we had been in was ironically wearing a Jeremey Corbyn teeshirt and Labour rosette, in crowing style. Hard to love, and Lucy fell into an animated conversation with him.

Lots of nice folks arrived for our party, which was up in a private room which we went to a bit later on. Nice to see old pals like Slug, Karam, Steve Buckley, Dave the art director, as well as newer chums Lucy Silver, who is also a talented young poet, and Helen who I worked with from time to time who had the year from hell with her partner becoming so ill for a while that she thought he was going to die, but is in recovery now. Fi who I like very much and is a writer and lives part of the time in a windmill in Portugal. Jo, one of Matt's colleagues who I have worked with lots ran an endless quiz during the evening, and increasingly drunk, asked questions, sang answers and generally was pretty good comedy value.

Home with comparative ease. This miraculous as there had been a major signal failure crippling travel since late afternoon. I managed to get home using just a tube and two trains. Arrived at midnight, rain hosing down as I walked back from Preston Park, and raining even harder during the night. Felt so lucky to be in my own bed, with Lorraine.