A glamorous author trip in London

Current work: tidying bearpit (which I did not do on Tuesday: I had a faffing around day) and thinking about new ideas/outlines
Listening to: probably Haydn cello concerti
Reading: Milly Johnson, A Summer Affair (my mate Milly’s new paperback – excellent read: great characterisation, love the dog, want to punch the heroine’s husband)

Fabulous day in London, though am shattered now as it was a really long day. The journey was fine and I spent the time plotting – guilty admission here that it was not the one I was supposed to be plotting, i.e. the Venice book, but a different Modern Heat. However, my agent likes the idea so I think I can get away with it. Traditional… but with a Kate Hardy twist. DH has agreed to a research trip, too – I texted him yesterday and he ignored it, but the second thing he said to me last night when I arrived was, ‘WHY do you want to go there?’

Stopped off for a wander around Notting Hill, which crystallised my thoughts. Found some fabulous architecture and the physical setting of the Venice book (half of which will be in London) and thoughts crystallised further. This is Portobello Road - the house is where George Orwell lived.

Then I made my way to Brompton Road, where again I went for a wander.

This house (to one side of Hermitage Cottages) intrigued me: why does it have royal arms on the wall? (Must investigate. Another lightbulb is flickering.) Then walked up to Earl's Court to meet my lovely agent, Dot Lumley.

Didn't go in to the book fair (not really the place for an author - better to meet your publisher or agent in a less frantic environment). Went to Langham's for lunch (we sat in the conservatory, which was lovely and light) - and yes, crème brulee was involved... Really good chat and I'm confident in what I'm doing for the next year. Talked over lots of ideas, and now have more confidence in one I wasn't sure of. (That’s the book after next. Kate Uber-planner Hardy prefers to work knowing what she’s doing)

Then I headed for the Royal College of Surgeons, to visit the Hunterian Museum.

Photographs were not permitted inside the museum, but the exhibits were fascinating. Lots of things in jars (the squeamish need to look away now), including an armadillo foetus. There were also skeletons, including one of Caroline (? can't remember surname) who died at the age of 3 (though at the time it was said she was 9) and was only 70% of the size of a 2-year-old. Her shoes and her thimble were part of the exhibition and they were like a doll's, they were that tiny. And the skeleton of a 4-month-old foetus, dating from the 1820s: with the shape of the head and eyes, it looked like an alien (the sort usually described as a grey or silver alien).

From there, I had a stroll round Covent Garden,

just soaking up the atmosphere, where I was entertained by a quintet playing Vivaldi

and a street entertainer with an escapology act.

And then back to Liverpool Street for a strawberry frappuccino and a plotting session while waiting for my train home. And, bliss, read all the way home. (Am a fast reader so the two-hour journey meant just over half Milly's new book. It's a goodie.)