OK, is it, or is it not, OK for English people to meet with people. I've said it twice this week, and both my cousin and my friend gave me a hard time. Now I've heard three people say it today. So, what's the verdict?

I'm in the Ready-to-Surf on New Oxford Street, but they've disabled multiple IE pages, even though I'm paying through the nose for access. Arrrgh. So no links.

Just went to M's book launch at the NYU London campus - felt rather like everyone I've ever met in my whole life was in the one room: old work colleagues (one who reminded me I'd "set her up" with someone ten years ago who's still her best male friend), college friends, friends of friends. M had a rave-intro from his editor, and two other people there told me they've completed books. I must .... complete mine. L tells me I have "issues with completion" but then I may have been an estate agent in a previous life.

Going to see Victor Vargas (no, not someone I know, just no links), and maybe even get some mediterranean food. But then I had a little too much to eat at the weekend, so maybe not.

50 Women to watch from this morning's Guardian. They seem to have missed me out.

Did you just hear someone on the Today programme say "De-loot Toiche" - when he presumably wanted to say Deloitte Touche? Happens to us all...

So I'm still in Cheadle, hogging my sister's broadband, and doing a piece of virtual-work (vork?): researching a UK company that a US company has been asked to joint venture on. It's brilliant: my client is asleep in Boston, and I could be anywhere in the world. Well, anywhere with internet access and a phone line. I've got a meeting at 5, and then I'm leaving on a jet plane for Heathrow.

Great weekend: catching up with loads of current- and former-Cheadlites in Synagogue; hearing the views on the New Rabbi; hanging out with my nephews and niece (S - four - is convinced that I'm the only person in the world who knows how to play Bob the Builder on the computer); eating a lot of honey cake; Spanish coffee and a gossip with E in Didsbury; power-walk with my Dad to see D in hospital (17 minutes to the Alex); the dolling out of much sartorial advice; seeing lots of family.

The place you grew up in never leaves you, but I know I don't live here any more. It feels like home, sure, in that I know how it works, and who everyone is, but the truth is I've lived in London as an adult longer than I ever lived in Cheadle, and that feels like home, now.

Over the last few months I've been going through a belongings-dumping process, a kind of late-onset minimalism, and I feel like I've streamlined my life, a little, and after two days in Synagogue I feel thoughtful and spiritually uplifted, and like I've had time to think about my plans, and what I want for me and my family, and I feel: happy.

Born Squishy is back! And she has news....

 
From the French artist Elido - who I happen to be related to - a new work, which is pretty seasonal, as it's Jewish New Year tonight, and the custom is to eat apple and honey (for a sweet new year), and make a blessing over a fruit of the new season.

I've been lax, I've been busy. Some great stuff I've done recently:

Churchill's bunker at Dollis Hill, for London Open House weekend

Vox politix debate at the US Embassy

Been going to the physio a lot for my ankle. It's a little better, thanks

Ditched - I mean "completed project for" - a client who was more than difficult to work for

Made a few versions of veggie chilli

musing on Sting's skrousers (see, you've heard of a skort - somewhere on the skirt shorts continuum, and this is the skirt-trouser thang)

quite a lot of work

Drink in the pub last Sunday night: an ex-friend turned up, someone I've not seen for a year or so, as I ditched him because he got really annoying. When I saw him on Sunday, I just thought he was strange. For your edification, I may dig out our email correspondence, to demonstrate his strange-ity.

It's yom tov, tonight, and I'm flying up to Manchester - ridiculously, cheaper than the train - at 11am, so doing some packing

Wish I could get my camera to work: red sky in the morning (shepherd's warning) is Rothko-esque today, although probably not Rothkoid. Should I take a raincoat to Manchester, then?

Went out for dinner with an old, old friend last night, and she told me that her three year old daughter says to her most days: "Mummy, are we customers or passengers today?"

I'm sure that's something we'd all like to know.

For two days on the run, someone on the Today programme has said pacific rather than specific. I've been briefly incensed (and can spell it now) by their bad grammar. Now - sadly - there's an earthquake in Japan, and they've genuinely said Pacific as in ocean.

The nice bloke in the newsagent at Kilburn station, who's been been starting my day with a smile for... longer than I care to remember, told me yesterday he's leaving. He's been there ten years, he said, and he's been fun and friendly all that time. And always knows what I want to buy: but then I buy the Guardian every day, and the Economist, Ham and High and JC on a friday, so it's not that hard. I don't suppose there's huge career progression working in a shop - he's off to train as a driving instructor, fancies being self-employed.

After the week I've had (and it's only Wednesday, I know), I wouldn't recommend it: clients changing their mind, going back on what we agreed, suppliers late on deliveries (as we speak, I have a hundred thousand brochures somewhere in the UK, that are supposed to be in Colchester this morning).

Some people say weblogs are full of dull crap, but I think it's the little human details that count.

Does anyone know a good place I can get short run digital printing done? And can you get short run "raise" printing? Just asking.

Phones4U - that leader in genuine technology innovation - bans email.

Of course, Scott McNealy got there first.

From our correspondent: I was musing a while ago about my childhood crush on Simon Gipps Kent.

Chris emailed me to say:

"Interested to read your comments about Simon Gipps-Kent.

I was looking him up on the net, having seen him in a Dr Who story, sorry to say that I found out that he died in 1988, apparently in a car crash. He was only 30, very sad. He seemed to go into theatre more in the early 80's which is why he doesn't appear to have done much on TV.

Thought you'd like to know."

Social Roundup 2: Calendar Girls
It's OK, but a bunch of continuity problems, and just overhyped. Sometimes, the myth just doesn't live up to the reality. A cute little script, though. I came away humming Jerusalem (which was my school hymn, actually), which I'd been part-humming since S&J's wedding last weekend, as they walked up the ailse to it.

What you should see - if you're into film anglo - is my friend Jonny's film, Wondrous Oblivion. Preview at the Tricycle this Sunday afternoon, and on general release anytime soon.

Social Roundup 1: Friday Night with Jonathan Ross
Last night, recording at White City. Tonight you can see Sting doing yoga and (probably edited out) being asked if he is so bendy he can give himself a blowjob, Lee Evans being quite a lot funnier than I ever imagined, although he should definitely keep taking the drugs, and Kate Beckinsdale being beautiful and not much else. Sting is obsessed with money.

My ideal man is 80% Paul Merton, 15% Jonathan Ross and 5% [censored]. Jonathan was dead funny, wittier in adlib than he is on the autocue (amazing to see suhc a sharp mind in action), and has lost a lot of weight since I last saw him. Atkins, anyone?

Torah from Dixie - I think these guys are in Atlanta.

So I didn't get an iPod yet - maybe I'll get an Oypod.

Jewschool - keeping it mamash.

Only in America, as they say.

My cousin told me about Jewsweek - it's everything I've ever wanted in a website.

Check this:
Chabad's celebrity soiree: What do Martin Sheen, Regis Philbin, Serena Williams, Magic Johnson, Howie Mandel, Spy Kids' Darryl Sabara, and the cast of Friends all have in common? They will all be making appearances on the 23rd annual Chabad telethon this Sunday. The telethon, broadcast from Los Angeles and watched by a reported 20 million people, usually brings in about $5 million a year in donations and is considered to be Chabad's biggest fundraiser. For an organization that is raising so much money, you think they could spend five bucks and update their news section so it's not touting who will be hosting and appearing at last year's telethon. Hey, Chabad, give us a call. We'll see what we can work out for you.

This could be me - I'm metrodox. Though slightly easy on the "dox". That's not eggs over easy, you understand, because of my specialist eating plan.

There's an overwhelming smell of incense at Picadilly Circus tube.

I saw a mouse! Where? There on the...
...stair. Whoops, I mean tube station. Yesterday morning, 8am, Kilburn tube, small mouse scurrying about its business, lots of women going "EEK!" and then carryingon theirs. I suspect it was a field mouse lost on an urban mission, rather than some rodent-like creature intent on taking over.

[Can no longer find it, but read a super-scary piece in the last few weeks about how the rat population is increasing expontentially and the lunatics are taking over the asylum. Sadly, because I have information overload, I can't say where I read it. Anyone?]

Back in tha smoke.

Did I mention that I have a great new flatmate who is a way better cook than me, and in the last week has made me fig, pear and ginger juice, kiwi fruit and basil juice, and veggie wonton soup?

I reciprocated with the mexican chilli. It's a new experience, living with someone who's a better cook than me, but one I could get used to.

Today, up at the crack of dawn to get the 8.30am Heathrow flight to Manchester, for a family affair. Stonesetting for my aunt: although it was inevitably a sad day, remembering that she's gone, there's something very enjoyable about all my family being together - London, Paris (not exactly Munich or New York, and no-one was talking about pop music), Israel, and all corners of Manchester.

OK, got to talk to my family. Later.

Two things about my clothes - as ever.

A hung around at the church gates to watch the bride arrive, and he told me afterwards there were three Barnes-ladies-who-lunch watching and remarking (or, as we say in the Old Country, making ashen blottie); "she shouldn't be wearing that dress", "those shoes don't go with the outfit" - that kind of thing.

Well, after they'd watched S arrive, they turned to A and said "we want you to know that your friend (me) was the most stylishly dressed of all the guests. And we loved her hat."

And at the wedding, I ran into two old friends of S, who I'd met about two years ago, and I was just saying to S that I didn't think they would remember me, and they came up and said I was unforgettable. Which I apparently am. They too loved my hat.

Hat data: a Sandra Phillipps twenties-esque clothe in cream straw with a large cream bow.

So here I am in my spiritual homeland - Cheadle - tapping away while my sister's on the phone and my nineteen month-old niece is wandering around demanding more Incredible Hulk yoghurt.

What a weekend: a holiday-ette in SW15: A made me fabulous Putney roasted vegetables and pan-fried tuna on Friday night, and then I had my first earlyish night for ages. Saturday, we slobbed around - some - and then walked along the river to Barnes, I slipped into something more comfortable - my party outfit - and went to J and S's wedding.

They both come from outrageously musical families, so there was much musical accompaniement to a very spiritaully uplifting service. Something I'd not seen before: after they each said "I do", the Mininster asked the congregation of familiy and friends to support them in their marriage, and we answered a rousing "we will".

Afterwards, in the Wetlands Centre, a reception followed by a perfectly cooked and served meal; a great table of interesting, American-style people, and one of the best sets of wedding speeches I've ever heard. Oh, and two potential work leads, can you believe.

I got back home on a real high: sharing friends' life-changing, special days is incredibly exciting, and I felt like I was part of a very unique community of witnesses.

Oh, I'm just getting so sentimental in my old age.

And Spirited Away made it to the Today programme, too. What is the world coming to?

I'm sorry, I know I've been neglecting you. I'm busy with lots of client work - not that I'm complaining - and Limmud stuff, and S's wedding this weekend (London), and a stonesetting (Manchester) - talk about being in two places at once.

But check this: amazing piece this morning on the Today Programme - Tony Benn, set to rap (he was at HMV Oxford Street at 1pm today "check out the groove, politics is sexy").

There's nothing quite like hearing a rapper say "this programme (Today) rocks the nation". And nothing quite like Today presenters presuming that rap is exclusively associated with Brixton.

History of the Soviet Union - fabulous archive.

Am I like a public information service? Just got email from a long-lost former girlfriend of the father of a celebrity I wrote about (Aaron Barschak, if you must know), wanting to know if I could put her in touch with him. What's the deal?

The Commission for Patient Public Invovlement in Health is launching Patient and Public Involvement Forums, through the (bizarrely-consumerly named) MakeTimeForHealth website. Given my failed world domination of the bus-stop sector, maybe it's time I moved onto local health provision.

Courtesy of Z - it's Escher in Lego. I have metamorphosis round my hall, but I didn't like take two weeks off work for it. There are some people out there who really ought to get out more, but who am I to complain? It leaves more room for the rest of us in bars/restaurants/cinemas.

Thank the L-rd (a thousand times) - YACCS is back. Mike already said it, but it's pretty strange blogging without the iterative element. I like comments. I missed them. Frankly, it was almost hardly worth posting (and I am still doing three projects, and managing to squeeze in about twelve working hours a day).

Cory Doctorow's new short-story collection is out. T came over with the first draft of his 120,000 word novel for me to read. There's a lot of talented people out there.

There's a queue about 500 people long outside the Virgin Megastore on Haymarket. Him are doing a signing at 6pm. If you're fourteen and wear a lot of black, you should get down there.

A friend just described his favourite tipple as "one of those drinkeable wife-beater beers". Mmmm.

Purely because a time will come when I can't remember what the nice underwear I bought from M&S is: "side seamfree, packet of 5 high legs" (filed under premium underwear, dontchaknow). I used to buy really nice underwear called The Knicker, which they stopped making even though it was really popular - ain't that always the way - and this is the nearest replacement I can find.

Watch me take google by storm.

Blogger is buggered - ate a fabulous post yesterday about my bank, and now is doing all sorts of weirded out stuff.

London terror attack this weekend: don't panic, it's just a test. To see how the emergency service is handling it.

So I got up at the crack of dawn AGAIN (yesterday was 6am, but I had a late night Limmuding), for a conference call I'd booked with a mid-range EU Commission Dignitary for 7.30am. And he's not there: no mailbox, answerphone, secretary. Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh.

Sorry about the lack of comments - I know it's less interactive - they'll be back up on September 8th.

That man is a wordsmith and a half: "... the autumnal pleasure of surfing the internet with my stockinged feet jammed against a hot radiator".

Mad props to Mark who's been nicer than nice about me today. Thank you. Always touched...

Someone has just said to me, and not ironically, "Sarah is the person you need to be talking to – thei e-strategy is part of her workpack, and she’s tasked with taking that forward".

What is the world coming to?

In the ongoing absence of comments, Z has mailed me to point out that I can't spell discrete. Hands up.

Camden does PC recycling.

Great happenings at the London Review Bookshop.

When I buy things off a wedding list, I invariably end up buying two forks, three spoons, and five sideplates, because by the time I get round to calling the list all the "discreet interesting objects" (like salad bowls, ferchrissakes) have gone.

Sometimes, I confuse the word amateur with auteur. To hilarious effect.