I went to Blackpool – fantastic to meet readers and writers there. I did one reading with Jane Costello then read her very funny The Nearly-Weds on the train home. I highly recommend.


Tragically, I don’t have any photos of the brilliant Girls Nights In at Portlethen or Fort William (if anyone wants to send me one, please do!)

Portlethen was a family event as I took my daughter and my Dad. Dad was giving me a lift and I’d forgotten all about his punctuality issues and the fact that the Land Rover can only go at a certain speed, so we arrived just 15 minutes before kick-off, but everyone was incredibly calm! Claudie was all dressed up and looking lovely as she worked her way steadily through the many snacks provided. Can I just say how incredibly glamorous everyone looked: sparkly pink shoes, pink tops and jazzy scarves, it was very fashion-forward. We talked lots about writing. I think they are a very keenly creative lot up there. Thank you for inviting me along!

Fort William… is a long way away! I took the train from Glasgow and it took almost four hours. However the weather was beautiful and the scenery was picture postcard Scotland. Seriously, there were stags leaping from the tracks, then posing in front of blue lochs, velvety brown mountains and Rowan trees full of berries. I was trying to work on the train, but the views were so amazing I kept getting totally distracted.

I got an unforgettably warm Highland welcome from the library and so many people came along! No wonder, there was a chocolate fountain (!) food, drinkies, two makeover ladies. We all had an absolute hoot. I have been told to spread the word, if any writer is even thinking about making the trek to FW, it is totally worth it, I promise.

The freezing, freezing weather continues. I can’t take it any more. I am a summer person, or more like an all-year-round tropical person, trapped in the fifth month of a never ending Scottish winter.

Every day I bundle myself up into thermal long johns, jeans, sheepskin boots, thermal top, woollen jumper, fleece hoodie (oh the glamour… you can see why I write about department stores and fashion, can’t you?) I practically sit on top of the heater at my computer and mainline tea, but I’m still cold, deeply, bone-chillingly cold, most of the time. I may even get those fingerless mitts to use at the keyboard… actually no, that would be sad.

Apparently, according to my exercise-ist husband, this is because I need to get fitter and get the blood circulating round my chilly, long limbs. I say: ‘yes I will go to the gym, I will go out for a run, just as soon as it’s bit warmer out there!’ Until then, I am sitting on top of my radiator with a cup of tea and not moving.

My dog, Jimmy, feels the same. He is so cold some days that he wraps himself up in his fleece blankies and will only come out for food.

He’s right, February should be declared National Duvet Month and we should all just be allowed to stay at home and do a Jimmy until it is over.

This week I have not just one, but two new books out. For a start, this has meant answering the door to the florist burdened with an enormous bunch of flowers from my publishers, not just once, daaaahlings, but twice!

Two bouquets on different days! How diva-ish is that?! I feel as if I should be reclining in a pink ball gown eating chocolates to do my flowers full justice.

But as always, real life gets in the way and I actually spent one publication morning rushing to the doctor’s with Sam because he’s had a strangely sore tummy for several days. Although the word appendicitis was flashing in my mind, our very nice GP assured us that it almost certainly wasn’t and now in my handbag I have a plastic sample bottle with a little plastic spoon attached to the lid. I think all the Mummies reading this know what that’s going to involve. Oh joy.

No, in fact there was some lounging on a velvet sofa in a pink dress for a photo shoot with The Sunday Times Scotland. We did the pictures in this highly glamorous boutique called Cruise and it just seemed rude not to try their beautiful clothes on.

So before you could say Prada, I was on the couch in a clingy Vivienne Westwood frock and fantasy shoes: the only pair that could be found in my size were Dior, gold, six inch, python, peep toes. Fortunately the photo doesn’t show the hideously un-pedicured state of my feet nor the rhino hide I seem to have developed on my knees. Phew!

Anyway, it is very exciting to see piles of Late Night Shopping in so many places… Woolworths, Waterstones, Borders. I just hope YOU, my lovely, lovely readers, like it. A lot of people grew very fond of Annie as they read The Personal Shopper and I really hope you’re going to enjoy her second book of adventures just as much.

Now get out there and buy a copy or two… or three!

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch! Let me explain: we finally super-sized the car. I’ve been driving weeny hatchback runarounds ever since I could drive: Fiestas, Golfs, Peugeot 205s. But it’s no use, I have two children, a dog, everybody’s luggage… so we’ve finally had to sell the baby Merc and buy a secondhand estate. An estate!!! Oh my Lord, I am now one of those Mummies with 15 feet of car trailing behind me. It feels so grown up driving this machine about town.

‘Well, if it has to be an estate, can it at least be a shiny, glamorously red estate?’ I’d asked. (Obviously with the lowest possible MPG, because I am not turning into a gaz guzzler at this late stage. Not now that petrol costs £10 a litre or something.)

Many searches of autotrader.co.uk later and my husband came up with the goods, not just shiny red but with cream leather seats. Now I was convinced. Cream leather seats! I’d drive a lorry around town for cream leather seats. No more wiping puke off cheap grey velour for me!

Well, how long had we had the shiny red, cream leather seated machine before I took a corner hatchback-stylee and gouged a great long scratch and dent right down the side? Eeek… three whole days. My first ever crash type incident in 18 years. Owwwwwww.

I’d just like you to know that I left a note on the window of the other car because it’s not just good manners, it’s good karma. What goes around comes around. The lady phoned up, was totally charming and said not to worry, her car was fine! Fortunately my Dad knows a man who will be repairing the gash in the side of the Mummy machine ASAP.