Bloody trains! Normally I can’t stop gushing about how much easier my life has been since I decided to commute by train, but when things go wrong, they really go wrong. This morning I got stuck behind a broken train approximately 7 miles from home. And I sat there, unable to exit, for the better part of two-and-a-half hours. In the end, they turned us around and sent us back to Canterbury. By the time I got back, three hours after I had started, I figured it was too much trouble to try to struggle up to London only to arrive at noon.

I worked from home. Which is even better than commuting by train.

It was a beautiful Sunday. But you’ll have to take my word for it…

Apologies for this picture-free update. Chalk it up to old-age senility.

Sunday was predicted to be a beautiful morning, and it lived up to expectation. We woke up early to a crisp morning with clear, sunny skies – something you would expect in September, but an unexpected surprise in the middle of January. I hadn’t taken the Corvette out in a while, so we decided to drive it up to Whitstable, on the coast, for lunch.

I figured that a day out would be an ideal time to take some photos – of the car, of the beach, of the countryside. I charged the batteries, selected and packed the lenses, and packed my camera bag.

In a moment of laziness, we decided to jump into Aude’s car to drive up to the garage where I keep the Corvette. In the ensuing car-swap, I managed to leave the camera in Aude’s car – hence no photos for my blog entry today.

Never mind, my colourful descriptions will have to suffice! We took the car out for a lovely drive, then ended up having lunch at the Hotel Continental where I had a wonderful pot of moules frites worthy of France. They were absolutely delicious. The place was obviously popular, as every table was full when we turned up. I thought we might be turned away for not being properly attired – everyone else seemed to have little kids in tow!

After lunch we took a nice, long walk down the beach and enjoyed the sunshine. Quite a few people were out doing the same thing – when you don’t get good weather very often, you’ve got to enjoy it when you get it.

Definitely my most impressive celebrity spotting yet – on my train this morning I managed to sit opposite Ian Hislop, the editor of Private Eye magazine (and apparently the most sued man in English legal history), who also hosts Have I Got New For You. He definitely qualifies as one of those celebrities I would genuinely like the opportunity to have lunch with, as opposed to most Hollywood celebs who are really just caricatures that are fun to point at and laugh. How I longed for him to clash heads with Ms Squeaky, but sadly, that showdown will have to wait for another day. True to form, he was armed with copies of the FT, Daily Mail, and The Times.

I’m off to the gym today – I figure it’s about time to use get some use out of the membership that I’ve been paying for each month. So much for my grand plans of joining the gym beneath the office so that I’d use it regularly – between my schedule, catching a train at a reasonable time, and client commitments, I haven’t used the gym once since I started my new job. Guessing from the emptiness of the gym, I’m not the only one in that boat.

This evening I’ve got another dinner with the new graduate recruits – where we sell them the consulting lifestyle and answer their questions over dinner in one of our boardrooms overlooking the Thames. They’re actually a lot of fun, and the three consultants tonight are a good laugh, so we should have a good time and hopefully convince a few of the recruits that working for a big operational consultancy is actually a lot more rewarding that working for McKinsey.

It’s a wet and miserable Saturday here in Canterbury, so not many exciting photos to share today. We spent most of the morning in bed, trying to avoid the wet weather as long as we could, then went out for a bite of lunch at a new tapas restaurant in town started by one of Aude’s former colleagues who took voluntary redundancy a few months ago and ploughed all the money into her own business.

Since it was a day for indoor activities, I thought I’d try to figure out why my flash wasn’t giving me good pictures. As suspected, it was user error – I’ve figured out the correct settings now, thanks to Daisy being my very patient model all afternoon. She actually doesn’t look like she’s too interested.

Like most photographers, I’ve had it with size zero models. These days, I prefer to shoot women with a few curves on them — like Daisy!

Marjory is here for the weekend, so we’ve got an exciting evening planned at the new Cuban restaurant in town. Maybe a few mojitos will take my mind off the weather?

Big shout out to Dara on her birthday. Happy birthday, Dara!

We’re safely back from Belgium, where we celebrated a French-style new year with Marjory and her friends at their place outside Brussels. Aude had a great time, and I spent most of the trip telling everyone that “J’ai un rhume” and that I was avoiding “faire les bises” so as not to spread my germs. It was international diplomacy at its finest.

Marjory and her friends made a superb dinner that left us all stuffed afterwards. We started foie gras and champagne, then moved on to a starter of tabbouleh with fresh grapefruit and prawns, followed by a salade Perigourdine, then filet mignon in a Roquefort sauce, with cheese and dessert afterwards. It was dinner as only the French can do – plenty of good food to satisfy the senses, plenty of over-indulgence to make sure you don’t do it too often.

As midnight approached, we opened more champagne and the party really started. There was dancing… and music… and bed! At least, there was for me – I realise that the French like to party late into the night, but by about 1:30 my bed was calling me. Two cold tablets and I was out for the count!

The following morning we were treated to a guided tour of Brussels – and I use the word “guided” loosely. Marjory was nominally our guide, but we could have been visiting Moscow for all she knows about the city. My GPS let me down and we got an even more detailed tour of town on the way back to the Chunnel, but we made it in the end, despite technology’s best efforts to send me in the wrong direction.

Forget your store-bought foie gras. This came from Laure’s grandmother. Well, not actually from her grandmother — more like from her grandmother’s ducks.

The chefs, hard at work in the kitchen…

Cinderella is sent to do the tidying-up by her evil stepsisters….

…but she emerges minutes later, transformed into a princess.

The girls pose for a photo…

Another photo of the girls (this time Aude’s managed to jump into the frame as well)

These days, everyone wants to offer instant feedback on the photographer’s efforts!

Salade Perigourdine, made with Laure’s grandmother’s ducks…

The New Years Eve table, set for dinner

Champagne and a roaring fire — what else do you need for a good night in?

The whole gang poses for a photo…

Someone misses that they’ve moved at the last minute and not been included in the group photo. (Actually, he features prominently as the blur in the background!)

Marjory gets into the party spirit…

Laure can’t resist joining into the festitivies herself!

Next thing you know, everyone’s dancing…

Not everyone… Some of us know well enough that the safest place to be when dancing breaks out is a little way away, with a glass of champagne in our hands!

It’s midnight, and Marjory pops open the fizz…

Audrey strutts her stuff on the dancefloor!

Marjo pulls a move…

Aude joins in, thinking it’s Disco Fever…

Julie gives a pointer or two to the dancers…

Frank looks on in amazement

Once the beat has you, you just can’t stop…