The NSPCC Literary Lunch was pretty much filled to
capacity. The attendees streamed in, one looking more glamorous than the next. (I
wouldn't be surprised if the paparazzi weren't hiding in the wings covertly
zooming in on the ladies.) I didn't know what attracted me more: the array of
silk dresses in flame red and daring chartreuse, or the wonderful, artful
pieces of jewellery they had chosen for such an auspicious occasion. Their
bonhomie lit up the venue like pretty Oscar nominees on the red carpet. I felt
honoured to talk about my book, Shebug
Dissecting the Gold Digger, now in print, in front of such an extraordinary
assembly.
As for the food at the Almeida Restaurant &
Bar? Let's just say I was not about to share my tasty lamb after I let the
Peruvian princess who insisted on ordering the vegetarian option try a
delicious morsel--I'm generous, but not that
generous. The pudding was purrfect: treacle tart, which I savoured shamelessly. Now
how did the chef know it’s one of my favourites? The mind does boggle...
Robert Crampton, star journalist from The Times
dished out the best morsels of celebrity gossip one wicked spoonful at a time.
His easy-going manner was contagious; his timing was masterful and his wit
razor-sharp. His weekly column,
Beta Male, makes me laugh every time. Guaranteed. Not an easy task.
Irene is a key player in organizing the NSPCC
Literary Lectures. Not only is she built like a gazelle, she somehow
multi-tasked without breaking a sweat. She glided about under pressure like a
swan, dressed in the inkiest of black.
This woman oozes chic and has killer
cheekbones. She also is a Cordon Blue chef.
Aren’t we grateful she’s not a Shebug?
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