It was an exceedingly breezy day in London town but I did clock one pair of flip flops and a strappy top. Granted, I was in the Underground at the time where the air is a tad more balmy but even so… I fought the urge to push flip flop man under the Circle Line but couldn’t resist a wince and shiver as I sidled past spaghetti strap lady on the platform. Having said that, I myself had spent the previous night stripped to the waist, fanning my torso with a copy of Horse and Hound in a friend’s Indian four poster in deepest Chiswick. It didn’t help that the bed was made for tiny Indians which meant I had to sleep diagonally, plus, I was joined in the wee small hours by the family pets – a small, but very hairy and exceedingly windy dog and a bored cat that kept trying to crawl inside my duvet. The next day, I went to the Affordable Art show in Battersea which was all men in suits with swishy hair and girls with bright red lips and swishy dresses. We saw a cow’s head that had been blown up so it looked like a Space hopper and a photo of lots of ladies who’d remembered their crop tops and high heels but forgotten their knickers. None of it was affordable, not even the collection of miniature goblets made out of Quality Street wrappers. On the way home on the train, Caroline Lucas shared our table. I held back for two seconds but then, unable to hold it in for any longer, effused,  ‘I did vote for you, you know’. She was very gracious, not like Jon Hegley, who ran away when I told him I loved him in a pub once.