Hey, I remember you!

"I remember you!" It was the nice lady from the post office as I handed her my 12 enveloppes. She smiled as she checked the mailing addresses.

"I'm afraid I'm not writing to Pierce Brosnan today!"

"I'm just checking to see if there's anyone I know. Anyone I know of..." She corrected herself.

Sadly there wasn't. I think it would have made her day.

wear them nano pants!

Nano pants. The latest Japanese invention. Apparently they work like very fine sand paper... but made out of nylon.

So we have nylon pants (that's underpants for you American English speakers) that... well, shave off inches.

The catch?

You have to wear them for 40 days in a row. The reviewer was assuming that you had to wear the same pair for 40 days which sounds rather smelly and disgusting and quite gross actually.

Yuck.

So I'm assuming you have to buy 40 pairs - which makes good business sense for the lovely people at Nano Pants Inc.

What exactly does it trim? Ehr.... like what area. Tummy? Good. Bottom? Right. Hips? Yippee! But what about the undercarriage? Have they thought that one through?

... Maybe they're crochless panties.

Now you're talking!

So if any of you ladies (I'm assuming ladies...) are brave enough to try them, please let me know how you get on...

I'm going to hold off for now. No nano pants for me today...

Eat my Chip!

"Oh, look! There's a cat. I love cats on camera. Let's get the cat in the frame!" exclaimed Dougal. And off he went to grab the cat.

It was about 10:30 at night, with a dozen of us standing around in a really sweet lady's kitchen. I was the only on eating. Chips. In my socks. We were shooting a commercial. Dougal was the director.

"I don't think the cat wants to." "Look! It's already wandered off." "I don't think it's a good idea." The rest of the crew desperately tried to derail Dougal's feline plot.

"It will look so good with the cat wondering through. I promise you! It'll be fantastic!" Dougal muffled voice reached us from the front garden.

Stony silence from the crew. Footsteps. "Oh fine! But it would have been great!" Dougal returned, slightly crestfallen, and stood next to the camera, starring into the monitor. Soon he was beaming again.

As I sat there, waiting for the last minute adjustments, I realised that I was in the presence of an extraordinary creative mind. This guy is going to be one of our great directors. He still has the enthusiastic optimism of child. His ideas are pure genius and fantasy. His name is Douglas Wilson.

"Quiet on set!" The first assistant bellowed. And we got back to the job at hand.

I got a letter from Charles Dance

There it was. In the mail box. Waiting for me in my SSAE.

Remember my big mail-out from a few weeks ago? One of the companies I wrote to belongs to Pierce Brosnan (to the delight of the post office lady), and another belongs to Charles Dance (she didn't get to see that one because I'd already bought the stamps).

And he wrote back!

A lovely note saying he'd passed on my details to the appropriate person and wishing me well: "keep at it and good luck - especially in these trying times." It was handwritten. Lovely handwriting. Fountain pain. Black ink.

A proper letter. Not a form letter.

Very old school and very charming. No wonder he had Sophia Miles on his arm!

Anyway. Off to yoga and pilates in preparation for my Heinz Tomato Sauce (Ketchup) shoot tomorrow. More on that next week!

I should be so lucky!

Last night I met up with some long lost friends.

Classmates from my years at the Lycee (that's High School or Secondary School to you non-Continentals). These people were my best friends - before we all spread our wings and disappeared around the world.

I'd lost touch with everybody. I'm good at that. I don't like looking back as a rule, I'd rather move forward. A bit like notebooks. I like a pristine new notebook. The promise the unsullied pages hold. Old photo albums make me cringe. I don't hoard stuff.

And then through Facebook (I know, I know) we slowly found each other again. And a bunch of us met up in London last night (having travelled from Autralia, Denmark, Holland, France, and Norway to be there - and a few of us from London). In a nice little unassuming Turkish restaurant behind Warren Street.

I didn't know what to expect. Mostly I worried that I wouldn't fit in. What would they think of me now? How would I deal with plates of Mezze? The element of surprise was removed thanks to profile pictures on Facebook. Strangely, very few of us looked any different. And it was like no time had gone by at all. We picked up where we'd left off really. And the food was fine - although I overdid it slightly (a lot) on the pitta bread front...

Which is a sign of true friendship. (Picking up where we left off... not stuffing my face with pitta bread.)

So how did it go? It was lovely! Catching-up is nice. It's safe too. Like watching action films on the telly. You can get involved with the story but you won't get hurt.

They are really the most wonderful group of people! I'd forgotten how warm and generous they all were, and how much they seem to care about me. I felt welcomed and loved. And more importantly liked. Because you can love people but not like them...

I discovered that most of them have children. Around the 6-7 year old mark. Like they suddenly decided to fall pregnant at the same time without realising it. Like long lost twins! Synchronised biological clocks. That made me feel a lot younger than the rest. As if being parents made them adults, whereas I was still - what? - an adolescent? Hardly! So what then? A child? Maybe... more like someone with her whole life ahead of her. Which is the definition of a child... but has nothing to do with age. It's about the opportunity. And freedom.

I felt like I had made the right life choices. That I was in a good place. AM in a good place. That I wouldn't change anything for the world. Because every step I have taken has led me to where I am today, this morning. And it is a good place. Sitting on the red sofa, looking out the large window, typing my blog, listening to the building work going on across the street, watching the morning mist burning up in the sunshine.

I am a lucky girl, born under a lucky star. My life is good. And I can step out into the sunshine, my head held up high, and a smile dancing on my lips. Today is a lucky day, as every day is, in my lucky life.

Now - off to my meeting before I break into a Kylie song and dance...