One fine day........

On my way to the bus stop I passed a catering sack of long-grain, Chinese rice; ripped open, half empty, it stood about 2' high, leaning against a school fence. Why?

I took the bus to the train station and noticed the hazy dome of St.Paul's looming above a Victorian terrace, flanked by the cranes of much new building work in the city; the sun bouncing off the the gold, reflecting the past into the future.

I went to Hertford to film a hair salon and discovered, hidden down an alley, Manic Munchies: a red and white, spotted cafe full of delicious, homemade cake.

I had dinner with my dead friend's husband and kids, the eldest has learnt to cook and made a fabulous supper with these excellent oven-baked potatoes.......

....and cookies her Mum would have been proud of. It was an evening full of fun and food and wonder at how much can happen in a year.

I went home, too sad to sleep and watched Luck, recorded from Sky Atlantic. It is utterly amazing. It's about horse racing, I think. Actually, I have no idea what is going on at all and I have watched several episodes. It has Dustin Hoffman and Nick Nolte and Ian Hart and Michael Gambon and Joan Allen. In a telly show. But everything about it is brilliant, the acting, the music, the characters..... you don't need to know what's going on you just disappear from your own world and hang-out at a race track in the sun.......

To tip: Lucian Freud Portraits at the National Portrait Gallery, catch it while you can.

Let Me Eat Cake

With age comes wisdom and what I've learnt is.....don't fight it, bake it............it's the only way to get through the winter. I've had two massive attacks of cooking fever in the last two weeks, both of which were super successful: Nigel Slater's chocolate hazelnut cookies (dangerously addictive) and Lucas Hollweg's orange and almond cake, both sinfully easy to make too. But why have I taken up the wooden spoon? Because for me, it is the ideal way to calm down and carry on when it all gets a bit overwhelming. Plus, in the case of the orange and almond cake, it makes the kitchen warm and citrusy.........always good on a wet Wednesday afternoon in January.

So, armed with a stack of soft-baked, chocolate hazelnut cookies, I am able to return to the fracas masquerading as my life at the moment, and help my slightly over-excited friend plan her slim, elegant, fortysomething wedding (without turning into bridezilla), get my mother safely into India while keeping my son safely out of Helmand Province (which knocks undone homework into a cocked hat) and attend to the business of working, paying bills, going out, staying in and keeping warm.

The travel plans to the jewel in the crown are coming on a pace but I am not a travel agent for good reason...it's quite stressful. I am more used to travelling with an idea and a map than an itinerary and a timetable, but with a 72 year old in tow I felt that booking early to avoid disappointment was the order of the day. However, despite getting a supremely lucky break on very cheap BA flights, and almost unravelling the mysteries of India rail, the final leg of our journey from Hampi to Patnem has fallen foul of a slight technical hitch: I booked the sleeper train to get us there no problem, unfortunately the AC part of the the train to get us to Goa is full....forever it would seem. And although I would be happy to travel the eight hours with just the breeze in my hair, without AC, I have visions of it all going a bit Passage To India, my mother coming over all Mrs. Moore and no Dr. Aziz on call. Still, when plans don't fall into place, the adventures can begin and nowhere is the saying, 'it's the journey not the destination' more appropriate than in India.

Top tip: guarantee to be in the youthful minority, go to the matinee of anything at The National Theatre