Swirling mists

It's been an epically long day. We did at least have a lie-in, which was a proper treat. We also had breakfast in bed whilst watching last night's Strictly Come Dancing on an iPad with a bowl of cornflakes on our laps.

From noon today, until midnight, we sat at the kitchen table working on the script for the secret project. It's been utterly gruelling and not at all how I'd like to have spent my Sunday, but needs must. I was desperate to go outside all day. A really magical light was pouring through the window. The sun was defiantly shining but at the same time the mist appeared to be really thick and shining like sheets of silver behind the trees. It was most unusual, like something from an episode of Robin of Sherwood. I swear I could hear Clannad music! I was hoping Herne the Hunter would rise out from behind next door's bicycle shed.

We went for a late night walk through Queen's Wood, the little piece of Highgate which looks like Narnia, with its Victorian lampposts and curiously gnarled trees. The mist was extraordinary and wrapped itself around us like a million tiny feathers. It smelt like chlorine and made everything sound muffled and muted. A little like the acoustics you get on a snowy day. I bloody love autumn!

We came home from our walk and watched the results show from Strictly, horrified once again to see Jamelia being saved in the dance off. My only consolation is that every time she ends up in the bottom two, she receives the message more loudly that no one out there likes her very much, and after a while that's got to start grinding you down. As she said today in her faltering little "pity me" voice; "I've come to the conclusion that the public don't like me..." That's 'cus you're an unrepentant homophobe.

Don't worry, love, when the judges finally see sense and vote your sorry little tush out of the competition, you can go back to your coven of witches on the Loose Women panel and blame the gays for your downfall.