I am optimistically hoping that Scarborough will be likewise blessed as far as weather goes, although since I am unlikely to see it much before 8.30pm, the state of play is really not important unless it could conceivably play a part in obstructing delivery of the monstrous Indian takeaway I plan to order within five minutes of getting through the door and which will undoubtedly be in the enjoyable planning stages for most of the journey. Needless to say, tomorrow will certainly be me-time…

I have had possibly the most fun, if tiring, of all my recent trips and have been thoroughly wined, dined, entertained (thanks to a fabulous night out in the West End) and showered with gifts, among them my favourite Green and Black’s chocolate (in particularly appealing miniature bar form and encompassing every flavour available) and a DVD of new music to be getting on with, especially welcome since my current ipod playlists are looking somewhat tired. The latter part of yesterday was spent enjoyably pottering around Piccadilly and Soho to round off my visit, although my loathing of crowds predictably threw a spanner in the works as far as my usual trip to the pictures was concerned, and an earlier-than planned return to the plush tranquillity of the apartment was necessary after a fabulously good Italian ice-cream cone which revived the senses in more ways than one, the £4.20 price tag having much the same effect as a crash cart.

I have also been fortunate to see almost all of my much adored regular London visitors as well as a healthy scattering of keen-as-mustard newbies, all of whom I would welcome back in a flash. Definitely a hit, and I am very much looking forward to next time! My next London dates will provisionally be the second week of June; the vigilant will have spotted my flying visit at the end of this month but the little time I have to spare is almost entirely spoken for already, and realistically, anything that causes me to sleep through the Night of the Senses ball and the accompanying reason for my presence – the Erotic Awards – is most likely ill-advised.

Variety being the spice of life and so forth, I am busying myself with more travel plans and am hoping to make my way up to Aberdeen next month – the Granite City has been featuring on my ‘to do’ list for a while, and since I can stop off in Edinburgh (one of my other favourite cities) on the return leg, it seems churlish indeed to avoid the place. With the help of a charming gentleman correspondent, I have carefully scouted accommodation and transport including flights, although a seven hour train journey pales into insignificance next to the prospect of entrusting my schedule to Flybe (colloquially known as Maybe) ever again and anyway, the stunning views will make up for the backache. I should be confirming the details later this week – and needless to say a stopover will be made in Edinburgh on the way back so nobody need feel left out.

For now though, domestic bliss and a shortly-to-be full refrigerator beckons; availability this week will be limited whilst the batteries recharge and same day callers are guaranteed to be disappointed (in case you were wondering, writing this doesn’t ever stop them trying, but it does give me one more online resource to point them to whilst sighing theatrically and putting another slice of pilchards-in-tomato-sauce-toast under the grill). Tomorrow, Wednesday and Sunday are already spoken for…

Still nothing from the Scottish Justice Committee, since they have been on Easter holidays. Keep everything crossed. And to anyone concerned about the implications of the recent new legislation in England and Wales, watch this space, I’m working on an explanation and will post soon-as.

Very exciting news on the property front; having become increasing despondant at the ridiculous goalpost-moving and jumping-through-of-hoops apparently required by the mortgage company, I last night decided finally that the time had come for action and after five minutes or so and about a dozen mouse-clicks had the required funds speeding their way to my bank account. I awoke this morning happy to find myself in a position to buy my lovely new flat outright, although even this will be denied me as my solicitor has now announced that he is on holiday next week, a luxury that I (single, self-employed, (working) girl about town) will be unlikely to afford myself for a while yet!

All in all though, not long to wait and I have been busying myself investigating extending the central heating system, fixing up the odd patches of damp and naturally the matter of preparing my current abode for the marketplace – I have even hired a skip (to be delivered tomorrow morning) and am ridiculously excited about this, although probably not as excited as my neighbours will be when upon its arrival, given that there is no longer a free council disposal service for any items which will not fit in a wheelie bin. This evening has been spent industriously taking on all manner of practical tasks, including tearing up carpet, moving furniture and installing a new toilet seat – as some of you have seen, I am very enthusiastic about DIY, although I am always happy to let my guests lend a hand if requested (and equally happy to reciprocate and even clean up afterwards). Unfortunately the current state of play is that my living room, whilst never what one would call gracious, now resembles a particularly bleak set from the sort of earnest kitchen sink drama popular during the Thatcher years (which coincidentally is very much as our house looked during the same miserable period).

By next time I am hoping to have a definite date for you (or at least an idea!), although like us all, the poor neglected place does need a bit of attention first. In the spirit of this, anyone who is feeling in a similar state should get in touch as soon as possible – my July is shaping up to be busy once agan and I will be taking the necessary time off to move (although my visiting service will still be available as and when possible). Hopefully I will soon be entertaining some of you in rather more splendid and salubrious surroundings than at present; and to those who frankly don’t care one way or the other, you almost certainly haven’t been here yet; if so I salute you! And just to be on the safe side, don’t take your shoes off downstairs.

I took the opportunity to visit the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition and was especially looking forward to seeing Jeff Koons’ Cracked Egg (Blue), a beguiling object so beautiful that it defies description altogether; think giant shiny blue empty boiled egg with lid and you will be either on the right track or completely missing the point (probably both). Apparently it took eight months relentless polishing of the high chromium-stainless steel to produce the most reflective surface imaginable (or at least since my Mum last got down to some proper spring cleaning) and the result is truly fabulous; fortunately for me it was not for sale and I left having instead chosen a very nice (and far more appropriate) piece by Sue Whale called ‘The Entomology of Love’ whose fun and fragility will benefit far more from being seen than described by a philistine like me – hopefully it will soon be gracing my new place! (yep, still no moving date).

I also took advantage of my day out to visit (as I always endeavour to but usually with limited success) the Natural History Museum, which turned out - unbeknownst to me, to be only five minutes walk from my lovely hotel on Cromwell Road. The current temporary exhibition comprises a tropical butterfly house set up in the grounds; unfortunately the interior, by virtue of necessity, is far more hot and sticky than anywhere I would choose to spend a sunny day, and whilst I am not normally averse to such conditions, it helps if (as is more usual) I am rather less formally attired, or indeed, not at all. Anyway, the dinosaurs are my perennial favourite, although a wrong turn on the way to Marine Invertebrates took me to the Human Biology section, which held my interest for long enough to fill the gap until hometime (I’m sure my new-found knowledge of hormone distribution will come in handy, although I think I can probably keep my burgeoning interest in mitochondria safely to myself).

This week – Dublin! I am looking forward very much to my first visit and will tell you all about it; I am meeting my companion at Gatwick on Wednesday and will be away until Saturday evening, meaning that the next couple of days are shaping up to be hectic at the very least! Unfortunately it is impossible to please all of the people all of the time (plus I really don’t have the space) so have regrettably been turning down some potentially delightful offers – to those of you among these callers; please do keep trying! Also, to those of you who see fit to telephone me at 4 and 5am, ring asking if I can ‘pop over’ to Sheffield/Doncaster/Surrey ‘tonight’, send illiterate, anonymous and unseemly text messages and whose general lazy, ill-informed and ill-mannered ‘enquiries’ are wasting ever more of my valuable time, please STOP trying – I have blacklisted more numbers this week than any other to date! Being courteous and well-mannered costs nothing whereas any of the above only results in 1: a cast-iron guarantee that we will never meet and 2: that for the first time ever you will have letters after your name – in my contact list!