Went to L'Etoile last night. It's one of those restaurants where you need to take out a bank loan to pay for food you need binoculars in order to find. £26 for meat they hadn't even cooked (yes, I know, the British always overcook meat, it's just that I'm a philistine and like to be absolutely sure by dinner isn't breathing before I eat it.) Pretty decent food, but not necessarily £50 a head worth of decent.

Took a little pilgrimage up to King's today to see a friend. He wasn't there, so I sat outside Somerset House and felt terribly cosmopolitan, eating my cous cous and watching people in suits buying expensive wine from the kiosk. As for my friend, he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. (I realise, of course, that I probably should have texted him before I trapised up to King's. However, this course of action requires I certain amount of common sense, something which I do not possess in abundance.)

My race went very well, by the way. I completed it in 31 minutes, and even beat Jo Brand, who had stopped off half way round for a cigarette.