Venetia Thompson

Diary – 7 June 2008

Venetia Thompson contends with a broken Blackberry, teeth-whitening kits and cyclists

Venetia Thompson contends with a broken Blackberry, teeth-whitening kits and cyclists

Last weekend I discovered what it is like to be a small furry animal in its burrow, when in an effort to catch up on some sleep and do some work, I had refused to go out and instead sat steadfast in my living-room. I was subsequently hissed at through the window and then smoked out when a tramp decided to set fire to himself and my rubbish under the building late one night while banging maniacally on my bedroom window. Whether it was that same mischievous Romanian tramp Sarah Standing was troubled by last week I do not know, but I wouldn’t be surprised as Ebury Street is well within staggering distance. Thankfully the Met Police’s response time was superman fast. When I questioned their speediness I was told that they were never far away and to call anytime. How reassuring.

I have been a bit of a closet fan of the Met ever since a few years ago, unable to find a black cab, I hailed a police van in a gin-soaked hysterical rage, following a lovers’ tiff on Regent Street at 4 a.m. I bundled myself into the back of the van to find six of London’s finest grinning at me. They kindly delivered me home, even checking that there was someone else in the flat in case I did anything silly. Surely if they can placate hysterical angry blondes, they can handle anything.

The following evening, my flatmate and I threw a dinner party for a few close friends. With only ten minutes before our guests were due to arrive, I was still fighting with two rotisserie chickens, hair soaking wet and wearing nothing but a towel.

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