For the first time in a long time, I am not in a hurry. I no longer sweat when I arrive on the Tube platform, having power walked from my flat. I no longer set my watch seven minutes ahead so that I am never late, and I no longer demolish people with my eyes as I walk down the street, daring them to get in my way.
Maybe I’ve just had bad luck with them, but it seems that Christmas parties are like first-time sex with someone new. High on expectation and hype, and low on actual sizzle factor.
The man who is tired of London is tired of life. In this light, I consider leaving London for a few years merely as a nap.
It is 1967, and the world of physics professor Larry Gopnik, a simple Jewish man, is falling apart. His crazy brother with a bad neck infection is homeless and sleeping on his couch, and his wife has announced that she is in love with someone else.
Things can get a little confusing in our global world. So what do you say when someone wishes you a Happy Thanksgiving...and you're French?
It's the Donmar's specialty - transforming a difficult, old play (this one written by Calderon in 1635) into a story that leaves us pondering the plot, caring about the principles, and wanting to know more.
At a meeting with the ex-KPMG alumni this week, one of my ex-colleagues said, "It must be good for you, as Risk Management is making a comeback and that's your area of expertise."
Of course I can appreciate natural beauty, and yes, I applaud immaculate personal grooming, but I always wondered why some women were referred to as 'trophy wives'. But now it’s oh so clear, because they do actually deserve a medal.
As the holiday party season is (perhaps too quickly) approaching, "To glitter or not to glitter?" should be the question.
If it was the Pussycat Dolls' buttons, it would be ok. Unfortunately, it's my BlackBerry's buttons.