Yesterday morning I was sat in the coffee bar at Selfridges stifling a tear because our much loved cat had gone missing and yet this morning, only 24 little hours later I was full of the joys of spring and shopping for England. Yes Jack is back, having spent 48 hours mistakenly locked up in a neighbours garage. He was no worse for his adventure but all of us looked like we'd been through the wringer . Funny how one small furry creature can have that effect on the heart.
So today was a very different kettle of fish. Having dropped youngest son off at the Wigmore Hall for the second day of his music improvisation workshop, I ran off down the street with a purse full of tenners and five hours to fill.
First stop was the flagship Paperchase store on Tottenham Court Road which was stuffed to the gunwales with paper loveliness. Yes I know there's one down the road from me but this is the biggest and bestest branch ever and never fails to disappoint. I managed to satisfy my stationery fetish with a basketful of jotters, notebooks and various bits of paper madness.
On to the British Museum - best enjoyed without kids in tow as, let's be honest, they're never going to enjoy Highlights from Sutton Hoo or the Zoroastrian Traditions in Persia and beyond as much as you might want them to.
On to bookshop heaven - The London Literary Review, purely co-incidental that they have a cake shop; Rose and Pistachio cake with Jasmine Pearls Tea - now that's what I call a fine combination. It was an added bonus that Blade Rubber ( sounds kinky but isn't ) was next-door and so it would have been rude not to have popped in and made a small purchase or two of lovely wood mounted stamps.
Then back to the Wigmore Hall in time for Max' concert. I was bowled over by the ensemble's performance with Max on the African Djembe drums. Way to go Max.
Oh , and talking of kettles of fish Jack cat has just run up the stairs and legged it into our bedroom with one of next-door's Koi Carps. It's good to have him back despite the wildlife menagerie that's going to turn up under our bed.