I write this surrounded by suitcases, a veritable fort of books, and an array of clothing (mainly skirts and blouses, but a French Maid’s outfit is peeking out cheekily from under one of the suitcase lids, and a stack of lacy bras has taken up residence in a corner). Moving was rather funny — a couple of friends who don’t know what I do for a living were helping, so I had to pre-emptively pack up anything incriminating into boxes and cellotape the boxes closed (I’m imagining the conversation “Oh-er, sorry, I’ll just pick that up. I’ve dropped your box of … um, sex toys and hundreds of condoms in different sizes and flavours?”
I’m very happy with the new flat. It’s beautifully put together. Unfortunately it’s a bit high-tech (I thought I was good with technology … I was wrong!) and I spent the first night fiddling with what I assumed was the thermostat in the bathroom, only to jump out of my skin when the bathroom floor began heating up under my feet (‘What is this witchcraft?!’).
Luckily my maximum security boxes didn’t attract too much curiosity and have made it safely across London. From next week (once I’ve got the boudoir — I love calling it that — sorted and set up) I will be taking an incall or two during the day (10am – 6pm) in my Clapham Junction pad.
Ciao for now, Bambinos.