In no particular order...

I still love London. Perhaps I'll always be a southerner at heart. After all, I remain part of that elite group who knows about the invisible "r" in words such as "bath" and "glass".

My business partner is ace!  And I'm not just saying that because she now knows I have a blog... ;)

The view of Canary Wharf from across the Thames remains one of my favourite ever cityscapes, deserving of lingering, misty-eyed contemplation. Ideally followed by a pint of Guinness in the Gypsy Moth.

Mrs F and Shipscook are fantastic hosts, who truly know how to spoil a girl rotten. But you should never go to stay with them wearing jeans that are already a little on the tight side, as you may never be able to peel yourself out of them again.

The concept of reliability is fleeing ever further in seeming desperation from the reality of the Tube system.

He may, and does, cross the line on many occasions ;) - but that OldNick can be a right gentleman.

I have never had, nor do I ever expect to develop, terrorist tendencies - but I do believe that the Unsightly Carbuncle Dome deserves to be bombed.

If you ever spy an orange in the vicinity of Nick's outer belly, run like the *ahem* wind.

Beware of affectionates pussies in the morning - they're probably only after your meat. Ahem.

Although world domination is best planned over a few bottles of Cobra, it may make it a little trickier finding your friend afterwards.

If you lived in Ancient Egypt, the only way to get out of building the Egyptian Pyramids was to become a mumifier of cats.

Nick wants me. But only to pull his finger.

I want the recipe for Mrs F's dahl soup.

Thank you, mine hosts :)

xxx