Back to reality

I am back in KL now and, in spite of the heat and the jetlag, find myself typing furiously to meet a tomorrow-deadline for an article. There's nothing quite like adrenaline and deadlines to keep the mind and heart alert. I shall rest when I'm dead, as Rinpoche often cites!

There is plenty to catch up on, including a fabulous launch and tremendously glamourous photographs of me looking like a strawberry meringue. I am ashamed that I turned Bill Keith's wondrous creation into looking nothing less of a pavlova. Those photos will be up shortly, once I finish this other article.

I miss London already. There's this funny thing where every time I have ever gone to London, it has been sunny. Even the photos of me as a baby in London were always sunny. I have this magical impression that London is always picnic-weather and people-in-the-park afternoons.

Over the last fortnight, I have imagined myself many times living in a house with big bay windows and Tricia Guild curtains and felt sad that I wouldn't be staying there for more than two weeks.

Isn't it odd how we allow ourselves to dream up grass-is-greener pictures in our heads. I had wash over my nice mental canvas with the reality of rain, damn weather and having to trek through public transport in the middle of dreariness. That made me feel much better.

I think it is also because London contains within it, all the beautiful people that I spent my most fun-filled days with. The gorgeous gay boys that I clubbed with until ridiculous hours of the morning, the silly frilly girls that I swapped boy stories with and everyone in between that I spent only happy moments with (most of it alcohol induced, but happy, nevertheless). When I think of London, I think of everything dizzy and entertaining - the kind of hedonistic, decadent lifestyle that would beckon any girl away from the Responsibilities Of Life and into the very throes of fun and fancy.

Back to reality, now. Snap.

I have to remind myself that no, you shan't find ever-lasting happiness in a vodka bottle. And you know what, all those university pals have also grown up and got a life now. They're not still living in some funny faraway past of student club nights and discount cards. London may have stayed still for you, my dear, but it has moved on for them: they have proper jobs now, and commitments and such.

I hate growing up. Really I do.

But we must trundle on, musn't we? And I still have this article to plough through.