At the risk of being pompous, please note the originality of the title. Sadly, the Chief Kent Correspond... *pause while check Ollie's post to see whether I should continue with an "a" or an "e"... ent was not in the Garden of England when the tremor occurred. I think, technically, I was in Middlesex. It has always amused me how London separates into counties, even though they really have very little purpose at all; I simply live in a London Borough.

So, yesterday I had a blissful day with a friend. We went to Bicester, then camped for 3 or so glorious hours in the lake by Blenheim Palace enjoying the sunshine and our Tesco picnic. I got asked for ID in Sainsbury. Highly entertaining since my friend was also with me and is twenty-six. If they are still asking me when I am thirty or so, I'll be a happy woman. I then went to meet Mr Williams for dinner. We had one abortive attempt at finding a pub - it's closed for refurbishment. At least this means we have a venue for next time... we discussed all manner of things, including Ollie's cruelty to horses. He's yet to apologise for photographing a horse and cutting its ears off. Anyway, so then I ended up in Kent since I had to talk through something with my parentals. I had planned to do this on the phone, decided it was better done face to face, had pretty much decided to visit them for a couple of hours (I'd arrive shortly after 9pm) when at the split of the M25 where I would have to decide, there was a sign saying the Blackwall Tunnell was shut. Decision made. So, to Kent it was. Then back to London this morning and I have trawled Spitalfields and Brick Lane market in search of fancy dress. It's for a 1950s event. I've decided I shall look like a 1950s E-number. A pinky knee-length Grease skirt, a green polka-dot tie top, a neck tie and pink ballet pumps. Oh dear. And I'm a lawyer, right?

Nothing else to report. I've recently read the latest Ian McEwan, On Chesil Beach. There's a Guardian review, here. I didn't particularly enjoy the subject matter. In fact, when I was reading it on the DLR in the morning I should have been more comfortable reading a raunchy scene from a Jillly Cooper. Perhaps this is because McEwan is so delicate, so open, so poignant? I found it uncomfortable. Reading it in public, wasn't for me. Consequently I'm highly amused that in the photo taken of Cameron on the bus this week (in most newspapers this weekend), he is reading said book. Nudge, nudge, best get Cameron reading a best seller. You know, popular fiction. Something that will make him look intellectual, but reading something modern. Oh yes, great idea. How Edward wishes to pop Florrie's cherry. Perhaps I missed something, I wasn't convinced.