Savoy dreams

And just like that he was turned from hairy beast into smart dog.

The littlest boy has memorised the passage in Plumdog where Plum goes to the hairdressers. She says, I felt like a filmstar. Bert does too.

Do you need a reminder of the Before look?

Oh he was wild and woolly. Now he is like a whole dog made of velvet. And he can see out!

We can't stop looking at him. And he is faster too. No longer at the park does he canter a feeble six feet after a ball before giving up and letting the big dogs get it. He's in the game, sprinting after it like Usain Bolt.

I made omelette Arnold Bennett for tea for the non-vegetarians (ie. all of the people except me). Well, not quite, it was actually an ordinary omelette with smoked haddock in it. The real thing is a bit fancier with all sorts of fluffy sauce and grated Gruyere, but being short on time etc. etc.

I looked up the recipe first and discovered that it was created for AB while he was living at the Savoy. Can you imagine it? Honestly, there would be absolutely nothing to do ever in the way of chores. Not a single dish to be washed or a shelf to be dusted or carpet to be vacuumed. Imagine all the time! I too could write a novel in such circumstances, I am certain of it. Especially if I was being fed dishes especially created for me by top chefs. Nut Roast Above The River perhaps, or Noodles CJ. I am very fond of noodles.

Oh, but they would never manage without me. Who would get cross about the mud and operate the washing machine and the vacuum? No-one else knows how to do it. No, I fear I am utterly indispensable. The Savoy will have to wait. I will make do with a cheese omelette made by myself and the odd half hour of writing time at the dining table. I hear that the Savoy omelette-fuelled novel wasn't his best work any way. A little suffering is a good thing no?