BREAKFAST AT...

If Claridge's is my Tiffany's then it makes sense that breakfast at Claridge's is something I'd like to become a weekly ritual. Both bars closed and quiet - very unnerving - roaring fires in the lobby and dining room giving everything a glow; a huge insulated coffee pot placed on our table, grapefruit ricotta pancakes ordered and then a lot of gossip and guffawing, plus unashamed constant Instagramming of the table by both parties. And I don't think they minded a bit.

BOW AMNESTY...

I've been undertaking a major upgrade of my lingerie wardrobe and in doing so, have discovered exactly what I like and dislike. (More on that another time. Boythongs: why do these exist?)

While I like delicate lace and silk, the one thing I CANNOT stand is the little fake bows that are plonked on most underwear, even really expensive brands. They're not even real bows - just bits of ribbon trim folded into a bow shape and tacked to the middle of a bra or knickers, which does nothing except make a small lump in the line of your clothes. Sometimes there's more than a bow - there might be a pearl, or in the most hilarious case on one of my recent online purchases, a fake enamel locket with the Eiffel Tower on it. I like Paris A LOT but I don't need that dangling from the middle of my bra. There was no mention of it in the description and you couldn't see it in the photo - in fact I don't think it was IN the photo, which makes me think there is some kind of automated process that just churns these things out randomly and attaches them at the end of production, like a games arcade grabber arm that just pulls them out of a barrel and sticks them on.

One thing I do like however, is cutting those stupid things off. The satisfaction derived is, I imagine, on a par with how Lola feels when she methodically pulls the legs off a spider one by one. There, much better. Here are some I removed earlier:

SAD...

This post, featuring photos from Januaries past, is here to state the obvious: January is dark and cold and I don't like it very much. It was pretty stupid making the first month of the year be January wasn't it. Why not May for example? It's not easy staying chipper under these conditions. One of the ways to bear a month you don't like is to make excellent plans for the coming (also not a fave) month, which I've done. But I realised there are a lot of January things I normally do, that I've neglected this year - and that might be why it's just ever so slightly getting me down. Like:

1: Buying beautiful spring-like flowers and having them around the house at all times.
2: Eating cake, doughnuts - whatever helps. Seriously, how is trying to detox helping things?
3: In the same vein, am I really inspired to go running in sleet? Not really.
4: Ticking off the days in your new (green for 2013) moleskine diary and ticking off things you've accomplished, even if it's just collecting your dry cleaning.
5: Not leaving your tax return (due in the UK on 31 January) until the last minute. This is like giving yourself extra intense maths homework when you should be cheering yourself up.
6: Going to a really good exhibition/film/event - not just any old one to pass the time. Something that gets you fired up and inspired.
7: If all else fails, drinking a martini somewhere extremely fabulous with good friends. I'm going to take my own advice.

FIRST WEEK...

(More instazzes - I've got two broken cameras being held hostage by an alleged repair place.) Now the party's over... yes indeed. Cosy cafe meet ups with friends help a lot; I really, really like those stairs; cosy epiphany dinner and galette des rois; marmite toast and tea; getting all those January cleaning/sorting/prepping things done. Like my tax return. Ugh. Not quite as glamourous as December.

THE NIGHT...

Instazzes from New Year's Eve. Starting off right with a drink and a snack at Claridges, where various dapper types were arriving for a Venetian masked ball. Love that powder room, make excuses to go there, want to live there. I wore my new prettypretty Mayle dress and C is holding G's swoony new Lanvin bag. Hi! Billybob instead of Ruin at Coya to ring in the new year. The large table of around thirteen year old Arab princes next to us not pictured, who didn't seem to know what to do except play with their phones. Especially when the Brazilian dancing girls turned up. Dancing to the Cuban band with a small princess (I don't know if she was an actual princess, but she should have been) who was having The. Most. Fun. Ever.