Lady of the night

Tonight, I am working by candlelight and the last few battery reserves of my laptop before I'm thrust into darkness—a true lady of the night in every sense. My whole apartment building has had a power cut, and by the looks of things, most of my road is out, too. 

I was lying in the bath, surrounded by jasmine-scented candles and listening to a little Sinatra through my wall speakers, when suddenly the music stopped. Thinking my phone had run out of battery, I stayed silent for a while (the light wasn't on in the bathroom anyway, so I hadn't twigged at this point). Splashing my feet about in the bubbles, I suddenly thought that the view out my bathroom window looked a little darker than usual. Then it occurred to me that there weren't any street lights. 

Well, padding through a dark flat is very eerie when you're not doing it out of choice. You're kind of at a loss when you realise not only do none of your lights work, but also there's no TV, no music and HORROR, no hair dryer. Thankfully, I didn't have a date this evening, or I would have had to put my brunette tresses into some crazy up-do. In addition, I hope that doing my make-up by the light of my phone will suffice! As I had to do neither, I slipped into my satin pyjamas and thought I would hop onto the laptop to see who was online to chat with. I could have phoned my brother in St John’s Wood or one of my sisters elsewhere in London, but I figured that if my phone went dead, I wouldn't have been able to plug it in to charge it.

So here I am, a true lady of the night, tip-tapping away in the darkness and simultaneously surfing the web at my favourite stores and having an MSN chat with one of my French clients. We discussed his booking his favourite London lady of the night to join him in Cannes later this year for a little end-of-season soiree. Happy days!