Now that the guilt of leaving my public post-less for a whole week has overtaken me (and I've had one mildly threatening reminder), it's time to catch up on the news from the last seven days.

After a six month hiatus (and nostalgia prompted by a phone call from JP), I went to a Ceroc class last week and was somewhat relieved to find that I was not as rusty as I expected. The intermediate routine was pleasantly familiar with a syncopated first move, some walkabouts and a double dip.( And no, I don't know the English translation for any of those. Suffice it to say they are quite cool looking.) The instructor wasn't as good as I was hoping for and the geriatric in a cardigan that smelled like old man did put a damper on some of my enthusiasm but not enough to make me want to stop going. Class again tonight, will see how it goes.

A mild bit of standing up by Will Rankin (ex-journalist buddy from the brave old Dubai days who I randomly ran into in Carnaby Street over the Christmas break) on Friday started off the weekend and a gossipy girlie night out with KY and Catherine filled in the gap. A nice bit of doing nothing rounded out Sunday in preparation for what appears to be the coldest week I've experienced in the UK so far.

Speaking of the weather, it's been estimated that it'll snow 10 inches (or some such apparently sensational amount) tonight and people are airily talking about posssibly not being able to come into work tomorrow. In theory, I'm tossing my hat in the air at the prospect of having a shortened week, but then I catch sight of my lengthening to-do list and realise that I am actually already snowed under. (Bad pun fully intended)

This week has been characterised by some of the random meetings I have had scheduled into the social calendar. The Peters, in her infinite wisdom, has hooked me up with a friend of hers who I have unfortunately had to reschedule to next week. I say unfortunately because he appears to be good value and I am loath to have to put off meeting up with him until next week. Still, such is the sadness of life and all that.

In even stranger fashion, last night I had a brief catch-up with a guy who got into conversation with my brother in a bar in Dubai last week and ended up hanging out with him all evening, frequenting such charming and stylish establishments as Scarletts and Cyclone. How I came to be meeting up with him in Covent Garden is a long and only slightly interesting story, so I'll skip it for now.

Jamila, Marc and Austin all visiting from Cardiff this weekend so the homestead promises to be cosy if nothing else. Avenue Q tickets sorted for Saturday night - hurrah for a bit of culture, even if it is the foul-mouthed furry puppet type.