After four days of moving & packing insanity, we managed to get to Heathrow with a hour to spare. That will have been because my mother was cracking the whip, and whisked me out the house. Otherwise I’d probably still be re-packing my cases on the driveway and weeping as the dogs tried to climb in my bags.
Oh how the neighbours must love us.
I’m hitting the ground running today with a five hour session at Big Ad company for some group brand brainstorming, and then I’m off to have tea with the divine Lulu Guinness at The Carlyle, pick out a swimsuit at Eres, and check out Zimmerman’s pop up store in SoHo. Oh and swing by Soho House to pick up my mail.
I also need to fit in a mani/pedi as I fly to Puntacana in the Domincan Republic at idiot o’clock tomorrow morning, and my feet resemble hooves. Instead of seeing friends, tonight I will be rootling around in my storage container to find clothes suitable for cocktails with Oscar de la Renta on Thursday night, and three days of smart resort life, parties and other jolifications. Otherwise I am going to look mighty strange in tailored wool shorts, Wolfords & pearls on the beach.