So sorry about recommending The Most Beautiful Book in the World last week, which several of you have pointed out is not yet available in New Zealand.
I have chased it up and will let you know when it is in store.
I go a bit mad with excitement about books over here in the United Kingdom as there is such a huge selection and they are so much cheaper.
The British, quite rightly, refuse to put sales tax on books, saying they are essential items.
Life in Wimbledon is full of thrills. My darling has arrived and I caused a bit of chaos screeching at him to come upstairs and see the fox in the garden.
A very handsome chap with a huge fluffy tail was bouncing around outside.
We were delighted to see him, but it seems those animal-loving Brits don't stretch their love as far as foxes.
They see them as vermin and claim they tear open the rubbish bags (I've only seen pampered spaniels and Labradors doing that so far) and do smelly poos (definitely the spaniels and Labradors!) on the street.
My sister is nearly ready to take me out in public: she knows how tragic I am on the hair and fashion front, so has already taken me to a "celebrity hairstylist".
A celebrity hairstylist doesn't just do haircuts for celebrities; they are celebrities themselves.
So bizarre.
Anyway, along I trot to be touched up by a celeb.
The likes of Joanna Lumley and Naomi Campbell gazed down at me from their frames on the wall as the fingers that had worked their magic on them struggled to do the same for me.
But I must say he did a great job, though I was a bit hurt he didn't insist on a photo to hang in his gallery of beauties!Next on the to-do list was sending me along to Wayne, the wardrobe-wonder-working fairy in the "by appointment" personal style section at Harrods.
This is a serious treat.
It costs nothing if you have an iron will, but I don't.
Wayne and his assistant take you around Harrods helping you choose anything that takes your eye, and anything they think will suit you better (there's a big difference!).
It then magically appears at your own private changing room in your exact size.
Then in your luxurious little froofroo room, you start stripping and dressing, stripping and dressing as they rush off for new sizes and colours and styles or whatever.
It was a bit unnerving stripping down to my nana pants and bra with very glam Wayne and Yasmin looking on, but apparently lots of customers come along with no knickers or bras at all, which must be a little alarming as, they assured me, not all their customers have supermodel figures like mine.
Tomorrow we fly to Bilbao, as long as the volcanic ash doesn't decide to go there as well.
Apparently, Gordon Brown asked Iceland to send the billions of euros it owes in cash but there is no "c" in the Icelandic alphabet.
Poor Gordon: he has been vilified and torn to shreds in the papers for clinging to Downing St by his fingernails.
It's been enormously entertaining reading, though!
And on the subject of reading - I know this is available - you will love Colum McCann's Let the Great World Spin.
Basing it on Philippe Petit's famous 1974 tightrope walk between the World Trade Centre towers, McCann has created a story that links people whose lives were being changed while the walk happened.
It's a masterpiece: harsh and poetic in places, and funny and touching in others.
It's quite the best book I have read in ages.
Do keep letting me know what is going on in the Wakatipu and send me those book recommendations.
