Schoolgirl Error.

It's snowing again today. Pretty, sure, but bloomin' freezing. How is it that Parisiens look so damn chic in their hats while if I have my trilby at the jaunty, cool angle, I can't see out at all as it covers my eyes? And don't get me started on hat-hair syndrome.

My coffee habit is out of control so it's no wonder I struggle to sleep. That and an obsessive Mad Men addiction are leading to insomnia, if eventual sweet dreams about Dan Draper. The classic unreconstructed Alpha Male. You just can't help yourself, can you? Yummy. That gravel meets velvet voice...Ooooh.

Two of my fave UK country friends arrive this week then best London friend the next so it's time to turn on full-on entertaining switch. There goes yoga, here come bubbles. Champagne flowed delightfully at one of the chic-est (sic) restaurants in the city on Saturday for husband's birthday. We very nearly didn't get out at all as I only realised at 2005 that booking the sitter for Dimanche was a huge mistake. You see - language skills developing at snail's pace. That was a schoolgirl error, I know. Thought about blaming it on the sitter. But she's too damn nice.