It's all a swizz isn't it, environmentalism? We went to the London Wetlands Centre and four of us - eldest, youngest, grandma and me went tramping round acre after themed acre. Whole continents - Africa, South America, Asia, were thriving side by side with promises of every kind of wild fowl known to man. But all we saw were ducks. Hundreds of them. And not one that you wouldn't see in Regents Park. The trailer trash of all mallards were there, spawning children by the thousand across the entire Barnes globe. "At least it's a good walk" my mother said, and that was true. But she hadn't forked out the twenty quid for the family ticket. That said, she took us for a fab dimsum lunch in Queensway and then it was back for serious industry. The fox, by the way, was sleeping in my neighbour's yard, not in the wetlands:-o Tomorrow the girls go skiing with their father, so the utility room became Command HQ for ironing and packing. Calm has descended on the house and I miss them already:-( No time for sighing, however. Tomorrow I swap the beanie hat of motherhood for the cloche of professionalism and go into a 24 hour conflab with my mate H with whom I'm setting up a life-changing workshop idea. The first team we worked on has invited us to their banging out ceremony on Wednesday. It's at the Arsenal so I've got to go. It means putting off the 'date'. In honesty, it was the culinary equivalent of a sympathy fuck. He's recently taken on his children after their mother unexpectedly died and I've been doingonline counselling. In response, he's offered me a load of marketing contacts. I've been agony aunting. He, meanwhile, has an address book full of marketing contacts. And says I can have them. Bloody hell: perhaps I should suggest brunch instead;-)