Funny Man goes the distance

All credit to him. Most men would go 'stand me up cos she can't shut the front door, seeing her again? Too blonde. No thanks' Not so the funny man. He calls last night, says 'you free?'. I'm not but break my own rules as it's special circumstances and swap an old friend's dinner date for a quick glass of vino instead.

Meet him at 7.15 for supposedly a quick drink. We end up getting chucked out the pub. he drives me home (safely as he doesn't drink), calls to make sure I got in OK. Chivalry indeed methinks. Bonus points.

He's amusing, very black and white, reminds me of my Dad, excellent company and talks so much he makes me look positively introvert.

He's darker than Green and Blacks 70% cocoa, despite the amusing veneer. I wonder what it's like inside his head and conclude being gentle with himself is probably not a strong point. I like him and would see him again if he asks, not be devastated if he doesn't. Can think of a lot worse positions to be in.

Go to see my mentors today to talk jobs. Both say they'll get on the case immediately. Again I give thanks for how lucky I am. fabulous friends who put me up whenever I need it, fabulous family who support me through whatever hits the fan, fabulous mentors who make time to see me in diaries more crammed than a battery farm.

Loving being back in London. The sun's out and the place glistens. The gypsy in me is sated, feet no longer itching, worn instead from so many miles. Now I just look round the Capital and ponder where I should set up my knicker drawer. I find myself strangely fantasising about growing Jasmine in a garden, picking fresh basil from plants in my kitchen and having enough space to set up a writing area and entertain my friends. It's a shock, very un - let me see the world, but something I am planning to go with for a bit.