Thanks to my very tenacious secretary, I managed to get a ticket out of Singapore last weekend. Nothing available in business class, so I had to slum it with the jetset in first class. Which, in light of how good the new British Airways business class is, has got to represent some of the most poorly-spent money in the world. Never mind, I was able to get home for the weekend, which is what was really important.

Had I not been home for the weekend, for example, I wouldn’t have been able to watch England trounce France in the rugby. (Yes, I know what happened to the English last night at the hands of South Africa, but the less said about the better). And I wouldn’t have been able to see Alessandro’s rather spectacular do-it-yourself plastic surgery…

Sandro swears blind that this was self-inflicted, but we secretly all suspect it involved Virginie and a frying pan…

After a few days back in the UK, it was straight back to Singapore. The hotel are treating me like a long-lost friend – I was greeted this time with a lovely pot of tea waiting for me in my room, and they’ve been leaving me little treats all week.

Tea waiting for me…

Gina’s gone this week. Though she devoured most of the Cantonese food in Singapore, she’s left a little bit for the rest of us. So I’ve spent the past few days eating everything that isn’t Cantonese – Korean, Japanese, Lebanese, even a room service hamburger.