Popped round to see HRH Missy Quin this afternoon. Took the bike. London was a bastard as usual. That's the trouble with having this preposterous blonde mop. It gives the motorists something to aim for.
HRH was verr pleasant, and offered to show me the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and finally the door.
That Greek hubby of hers was less than pleasant, and kept flicking small fragment of bourbon at me. Verr queer.
I said I would call again next week, but HRH said they were going away ....... forever.