Bruised feet, bridal magazines and a girl crush

Today was the first day of full-time employment and it went quickly and, you know what, actually rather pleasantly. Last week was my final nannying hurrah with three small but charming Aussie kids - same nationality, same school, different family - and lovely though they are I will not miss ham sandwiches, swimming lessons, tennis lessons or spelling tests. I suspect I will miss starting work at 3pm but you can't have it all.

The view from Barnes Bridge

No doubt this week will be quite the litmus test in terms of exhaustion levels but now that daylight savings has started getting home at 7.45pm doesn't feel that hideous, mostly because it's light enough to see the blossoms and magnolias and general floral good sorts that are trumpeting the arrival of Spring, my favourite time of year here in London. I've proselytised elsewhere on why this is the case but the optimism and physical urge to skip that comes with bursts of pink is undeniable.....

On Friday I had a fortuitous meeting with the Australian gallerist Rebecca Hossack that only encouraged my urge to skip. I met with her in Fitzrovia ostensibly for an interview for Artlink magazine but when we weren't talking art and magazines we talked the expat in London experience, weddings, art, art world bitches and the brilliance of fairy lights in gardens. It was such a pleasure to talk with such a warm, successful, generous, honest and enthusiastic professional woman who I took to the minute she walked into the room and exclaimed, "Jo Jo!" We're talking total professional girl crush. Seriously. I am so looking forward to writing the article about her and to keeping in touch. And I would love for her to mentor me in some way. Either way, an art world kindred spirit is not to be sniffed at.

Not such a sunny day but look - blossoms!

After that, the weekend could only be a goodun, despite getting off to a bruised start thanks to a pile of cookbooks finding favour with my foot...  On Friday night I met with LB in Battersea to check out the BBC Photography Club's annual exhibition and sneak some cheeky free vino. And then there was Saturday - momentous not for the 157th Oxford-Cambridge boat race that went past our door but for the purchasing of my very first bridal magazine. A rite of passage if ever there was one.

Now I'm pretty sure I'm not doing things in the right order, having already booked the celebrant, organised a caterer, sorted the music and bought The Dress. The magazines mostly, I think, are designed in this instance to offer a certain level of reassurance. Flicking through 200 odd pages of bridey, frou frou satin hell and ads promoting cartoon illustrated invitations I'm more than anything reassured of my own taste and the absolute crassness of monogrammed tablecloths and personalised M&Ms....

But back to the boat race. I seem to have missed this annual paean to muscles and lycra last year but its popularity is undoubtedly helped by the carnival atmosphere that threads through the pubs along the river all the way from Putney to Chiswick.

Accompanied by a flotilla of motorised boats, it was initially quite difficult to discern the crews until they were literally in front of you but the exhilaration was palpable - or the ego - I can't tell, but it was surprisingly exciting.

And even more so when we returned home to watch the end of the race on tv.... A much better view you'd agree.

I'm quite looking forward to this week. I have meetings at Whitechapel and the Hayward and dinner with my lovely friend Tori on Wednesday. A proper grown up week. It's been a while since I've had one of those....