|Hanke Gawron with dogs, without trumpet|
We will be there to support her and I'm sure she will be able to hear our screams loud and clear as she passes us on the Thames (that's if we managed to get anywhere near the Thames).
And . . . in spite of everything I said about the Hilton we are staying at the Hilton Met this weekend. God help them if it's not up to scratch. But the knock down price was irresistible, what could I do?
We've booked for Damien Hirst at the Tate Modern on Tues and may just have to do a bit of Pitt Cue as well as every one of the Japanese and Koreans on St Giles St. Overheard conversation from next table when we dined there last, "When we eat this in Japan, the fish is served live." Ooh, I say. A bit radical for my liking.
The train leaves from Manchester in an hour so I'm off. We have a bottle of Prosecco and Harry's Bar Bellini peach juice for the journey. Yipee!
Oh and lastly, just in case you were silly enough to miss the Smithfield edition of the London Markets series this week, here's the link. In this one a couple of the traders actually have a punch up over the price of mince and the only girl to ever have worked in the butchery department leaves after finally having had enough of her male colleagues' sexual innuendos.
See you Wednesday. Holidays are not for blogging.