Fireworks! I have lived in London now for 6 months officially, so pardon the lapse in the blogging in favor of fashionable living in glorious tree-lined SW, my dream postcode.

I’ve been drunk in the places where Oscar Wilde was arrested, danced in the hallowed halls of history’s nobles and casually left the Philharmonic to take in the distinctive sights of double deckers cruising over bridges crossing the Thames. All of these moments of red phone-boxes and topped-up oystercards have blended together to create a whirlwind of constant frothing excitement – diluting my usual ability to blog stream-of-consciousness style, and for that, we are (all of us) very sorry.

Moments of silence aside, it is rather shameful that I have neglected my readers while waiting out the sands in the hourglass that indicated the final negotiable moments of my contracts (bench warrants more like), working secretly solo et cetera to rebuild my empire in a shinier plastic that tastes more like E-numbers and crushed aspirin than ever before!

Luckily, so it seems, I have managed to move into a part of London that houses many of the secret musical elite, and through a number of awkward handshakes, low-lidded glances and clandestine encounters, I can report a chink in the armor of the industry over here is quite ripe for the picking, and I look forward to pleasuring your ear-holes momentarily. Get your kissing lips ready, the red carpet’s about to roll out in a way that makes SPICE WORLD look like WHAT NOT TO WEAR. Don’t get it? Don’t worry.

Returning from an icy vacation in charming Inverness, and prepped to hit the city of Toronto for a few weeks, my time in London these two weeks will be filled to the brim with as much merrymaking as my liver can handle and the Lemsip can diffuse… see you on the runway, darlings!

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